A/N - I realise that I haven't updated in over two months; my apologies. Things have been real hectic (where have I heard that one before, you're all thinking) and as much as I would love it, fanfiction is not my priority. Thank you to everybody who reviewed in the meantime and PLEASE FAVOURITE AND REVIEW IF YOU LIKED!
"Narwhals, narwhals, swimming in the ocean
Causing a commotion
'Cause they are so awesome!
Narwhals-"
"Make me tea." An annoyed voice coming from the direction of the living room interrupted my happy singing.
"No." I said childishly. "Because you drink tea with milk. The very idea of that repels me. Narwhals, they are narwhals! Narwhals-"
"But I want tea!"
"But you ain't getting any! Do you know who drinks tea with milk?"
"Aren't. You aren't getting any."
"Breast feeding women. Are you a breast-feeding woman?" Sherlock kept on reading casually.
"Not as far as I'm concerned."
"Exactly. So you either drink the tea I make you or you don't get tea." Sherlock made a face.
"You drink tea with lemon."
"Yes, a slice of lemon in tea is not just refreshing but also healthy."
"Lemon is too sour."
"Milk is too white. Gee, Sherlock. No means no. I'm not Molly or any other fall-at-your-glorious-feet female." I crossed my arms defiantly, my eyes glaring a hole in the wall.
"Look at me." His voice was surprisingly close, and I went from determined to mushy in a matter of freaking nanoseconds.
"No." Fuck the tremor in my fucking voice.
"Why?"
"Because I know that if I do I'll crumble, melt, my resolve will waver and I'll make you the bloody tea." He was right behind me; I could feel the heat radiating from his body. I screwed my eyes shut, tight, then reopened them upon realising that doing so only heightened my other senses.
"Please." His breath fluttered over my right cheekbone.
"Why go to all this trouble?" My words, much to my utter dismay, sounded rather choked. And god dammit I could feel that damn smirk on his lips.
"We are officially married. As a wife, you should make me tea."
"Screw you and your tea." I managed to snap despite my precarious situation.
"Only the former." He remarked, voice calm and unwavering. "Anything else would be rather disturbing."
"Says the man who keeps thumbs in the fruit tray of the fridge."
"Says the woman who dissects bodies in bathtubs."
"You convinced me to help you."
"And I am convincing you again."
"What, to dissect bodies?"
"To make me tea." A long, very long eleven seconds passed, during which Sherlock hovered behind me, his long fingers skimming my waist. I gritted my teeth.
"Fine."
Fuck life. I was exactly like Molly Hooper.
A/N - I might not update again in a while, but PLEASE (yes I am begging) FAVOURITE OR REVIEW TO LET ME KNOW YOU LIKED :) And feel free to PM me ideas for my next drabbles. They don't come out of thin air, guys!
Love and hugs (because I'm feeling high today) x