Teatime

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock but if I did...

Also I Don't have anything against Jehovah's Witnesses or any other religion for that matter, this fic is based on something I read and thought of this.

/sharing-wits-with-the-witnesses/19740

"No Sherlock sit back down" Hisses John, shifting slightly on the couch where he lay in old jeans and comfy jumper, so he can glare at Sherlock.

"But I..."

"I said no!" Says John tapping quietly on his laptop.

"But I'm bored!" Whines Sherlock fidgeting with the leather chair he is currently perched on, rumpling his dark black suit as he does so.

"They're Jehovah's Witnesses, not your play things Sherlock!" Retorts John along with a quick rub about making him some tea.

"Oh your no fun!" Huffs Sherlock curling up on himself further.

The words "That's not what you said last night" are boring and predictable but nonetheless slip from John's mouth along with a small smirk of a smile. Sherlock throws a well aimed cushion at him in retaliation, before leaping to the door and pulling it open in one flowing movement.

"Gentlemen" calls Sherlock to the figures retreating down the stairs, leaflets tucked under their arms.

"Do you like tea?" He asks with a creepy Cheshire cat like grin. A small nod in reply secures them and invite into the flat. Sherlock barely glances at John before ushering Brad and Charles towards the kitchen, "where the tea is kept" Sherlock says helpfully as he carefully drapes a cloth over one of his more exotic experiments.

As the kettle boils Sherlock manages to keep up his pretence of a smile as he listens to the two men talk about rubbish, nodding his head accordingly. His eyes watch as they take mugs out of the the cupboard, two for them and two for him and John. He waits till the taller of the two has removed the teabags, used the last of the good milk and is adding the sugar. His hand automatically goes to cover John's mug the one that reads Doctor.

"John doesn't take sugar" Explains Sherlock almost apologetically reaching down to grab the mug of the counter along with his own tea and takes them into the living room. Brad or is it Charles lets out a nod of understanding.

"Oh the room-mate." He says looking over at the couch where John is resting. Sherlock hands the mug to John, the gleam of gold on their hands catching as he does so. Turning back to his visitors with a serious face he replies

"No the husband".

The atmosphere goes suddenly cold as the men exchange worried glances before suddenly remembering a pressing engagement. Sherlock watches them go with a calculating grin. He takes a sip of tea from his mug, the one that reads Genius and flops down in the gap beside John looking extremely pleased with himself.

"Made you tea" He say childishly, slinging an arm around his John.