John's POV
It was a normal Friday evening. Sherlock, being his tedious self, was complaining that he was bored.
"John! John, I'm bored! John!" Sherlock called from the couch, to me in the kitchen.
"What do you want me to do, huh?" I asked him, walking back into the living room. He looked back at me with a smirk spread across his lips. He stood up and walked over to me.
"I have an idea," He leaned a little closer.
"Sherlock.. What are you doing?"
"You know exactly what I'm doing." Sherlock stated matter-of-factly, leaned down more. I could feel his breathe on my face. We were mere centimeters away. He smirked down at me, and stood up straight.
"Maybe you don't," And he walked back into his room leaving me dumbfounded in the middle of the living room.
