John let himself relax under the hot water beating down his back. It had been a long day, and he was more than ready to unwind; a nice, steaming shower was exactly what he needed. He leaned his head back, wetting his hair thoroughly. He was just reaching for the shampoo bottle when he heard the bathroom door open and then shut. He paused.
"Sherlock? Is that you?"
"Well of course it's me. Who else would be coming into your bathroom?"
He sighed. "Sherlock, I'm taking a shower."
"Yes." Sherlock pulled the shower curtain open and John's mouth gaped open as he realized that his flat-mate was completely naked. Sherlock stepped into the shower, pushing past John so that he was standing under the stream of water.
"Sherlock."
"Hm?"
"What are you doing?"
The detective glanced at him briefly. "Taking a shower. Obviously."
"You're in my shower. While I'm in it!"
"I can't use my shower. There's still acid in there from the experiment I conducted yesterday. If I stood in there I might cause myself serious burns."
John just stared at him. "You couldn't have waited until I was done?"
"I could have."
John waited for an elaboration, but none came. "Then why didn't you?" He was growing exasperated with the man.
"I wanted a shower now."
"Right." John turned his back and reached again for the shampoo. He lathered it into his hair, making sure to cover each of the strands thoroughly. Then he turned back to his friend. "Move, Sherlock. I need to rinse."
Sherlock complied, shifting so that John was under the water and Sherlock was against the wall. John ignored him and leaned his head back under the water, running his fingers through his hair to get all the shampoo out. He looked back up to see Sherlock staring at him.
"What?" Sherlock said nothing, but he continued to stare at John with his piercing gaze. "What is it?" After a moment, understanding dawned on John as he identified the look in Sherlock's eyes. "Oh. Oh." John knew that look. It was lust.
Without breaking eye contact, Sherlock reached down and grabbed the shampoo bottle that John had used only moments earlier. He deposited some of the liquid into his black curls, rubbing it in slowly, sensually. When he spoke, his voice was deeper than it had been earlier. "I need to rinse."
"Yeah." John moved out of the way and let his flat mate back under the spray of the water.
John stood mutely watching the detective rinse the shampoo out of his hair. Sherlock's fingers worked through his curls and John found himself wishing, not for the first time, that those could be his fingers instead. He let his gaze drop slightly to Sherlock's chest. Water ran down his skin in thick rivulets, tracing a path to the one place that John wouldn't allow himself to look just yet. Without a conscious decision he stepped forward and reached out toward his flatmate. His hand hovered in the air for only a moment before settling gently on the man's shoulder. His skin was soft, begging to be touched and John ran his fingers down Sherlock's shoulder and across his muscled chest reverently, focusing carefully on the way his skin seemed to heat up under the other man's touch.
John didn't allow himself to stop and think. Heat was coursing through his body and he knew it was only partially caused by the temperature of the water. He took another step forward until he was nearly flush with the other man. He leaned forward slightly and pressed his lips against Sherlock's throat directly under his jaw. Sherlock shuddered, but didn't make any move to stop him. John took this as approval and continued his ministrations. Without breaking contact, he licked a slow trail down the side of Sherlock's neck, savoring the taste that he had so often fantasized about. He move on downward to circle a pert nipple with his tongue before flicking the muscle quickly over it, drawing a stifled gasp from Sherlock. Their arousals brushed together with the most delicious friction.
