Experiment : Human - Johnlock Smut

Experiment : Human

"Okay, that's it!" John's impatience blared out with his words.

"I have dealt with a lot of your ' experiments' Sherlock, but having an actual breathing human bein-"

" Shh! " The dark haired male cuts in, not sparing a glance at his roommate in the doorway.

"By god, he has gone mad," John whispers hysterically. Questions and assumptions flood his mind but he forces himself to ignore them. He wanted to fully enter his home before falling ill. He knew, with Sherlock, he would never get a straight answer. So he'll save his energy for dealing with his odd friend, alone.

      God, it was just the most peculiar thing. Sherlock's eyes rake along the moving hands in front of him. "Move them a bit like this," and "Does it hurt when I hold it like this?" were whispered as Sherlock grips the other man's hand, touching it and intertwining it with his own. Nothing could explain why this random man agreed to partake in...whatever Sherlock was doing. What is the story behind him getting in this situation? A wild one, John wagers.

      After heating up a cup of tea he was relaxed enough to endure Sherlock's vague explanations. Explanations that lead to outbursts that contain a fraction of what he needs to know. Despite this infuriating fact, he has some time today for leisure and he will not let a stranger get in the way of that. Sherlock tenderly grips the man's hands, turning them palm up. Something must be bugging him terribly. Why else would he be so precise? He abruptly squeezes the other's wrists. The bloke was still confused but his chest rose sharply, eyes staring the detective down. The poor lad was just as baffled by the other as John was.

"Sherlock if you don't explain, I will actually conk you over the head with my mug." With an aggravated sigh the detective releases the man's wrists and sits up straight, turning to his flat mate.

"Thank you but you may leave now." Sherlock speaks at the stranger, without bothering to turn away from the doctor.

"...Alright." The stranger mumbles as he gets up, looking back at the two strange men before closing the door.

"So, have you got a thing for hands now?" John jokes, bringing the mug to his lips.

"Well, I would have asked you to help me with my experiment," Sherlock's voice was sharp, trying to cut at John.

"Then why didn't you?"

"One, you ask mindless questions, which infuriates me. And 2, it's simply because I did not wish to bother you." Sherlock's posture was always proper but right now he seems far stiffer than normal.

"And it seems you have been quite busy lately." John doesn't comment, instead asking a question of his own.

"Who was that man?" He didn't mean for this to turn into a row. Either way, the end results are always bittersweet.

"Some Joe Bloggs that I snagged from outside." Sherlock says, making his way to his chair.

"Poor bloke. Couldn't imagine what he might be thinking." The doctor chuckles out into his mug before taking another mouthful.

"And what are you thinking?" This was odd. John was never asked about what he thought unless it was prompted by Sherlock's leading questions.

"Honestly, I have been quite miffed lately and just wanted to come home and relax, you know? This is my home too." John rakes a hand through his hair, nerves igniting at finally speaking his truth.

"That's all then, right?" That's Sherlock for you.

It feels as though nothing you say is ever enough. John lives with a man who can twist and turn the mind of a lag for fun. Getting them to spill every detail to him without even realizing they're doing it. It's beyond exhausting.