Sherlock was bored. He hasn't solved anything for days and he could practically feel his brain rotting. Nothing good was on TV and John wasn't interested in keeping him entertained. As he thought he stared at the blogger sitting across from him. He sighed audibly for a moment before grabbing his pistol from the side table and firing two shots in the wall, hitting both of the eyes of the yellow spray painted smiley face without looking. He twirled the gun in his hand and smirked slightly as John covered his ears.
"What the hell, Sherlock?" He made a annoyed face.
"Bored." Sherlock said nonchalantly.
"I'm sorry, what?" Sherlock jumped up and placed his elbows on the back of his chair.
"Bored, John!" He sighed dramatically and walked over to the couch, falling back on it as he placed the back of his hand on forehead. John looked back over at his laptop.
"Well I'm sorry that no one has spontaneously died yet." Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"They're never spontaneous, John." He stood up, walking across the flat, and reached into the fire place. He felt around for his cigarette pack that he thought he knew John put there. John didn't take his eyes off the screen as he typed.
"They're not in there." John said slyly. Sherlock huffed and brushed himself off, he walked over to the doctor and placed his face right above the screen.
"I need something to do." John looked up from the screen and licked his lips, blushing slightly due to their close proximity. The sociopath took note of this and put it into his mind palace for later. Suddenly an idea struck the detective.
"You can be so, bland." Sherlock said this, knowing it would get a rise out of him. If John was upset then at least they could argue to keep him entertained.
"Excuse me?" Sherlock held back his smirk.
"You're just normal all the time. What's that like?" John rolled his eyes.
"I'm not bland." John went back to typing.
"Yes you are, look at you. An average male with an average hair cut and an average life."
"I do not have an average life. I solve crimes, I was in the army."
"Yes, an army doctor. You only solve crimes because of me." Sherlock turned away from him and looked out the window, smirking to himself slightly.
"Ok Sherlock." John muttered as he continued to write about their most recent case, not wanting to encourage his behavior. Sherlock frowned slightly.
He needed something. Anything. He pondered for a moment. What is something to keep him occupied. Something in his flat. Oh. John. More specifically, Johns blush. That's interesting isn't it? It isn't new though, he had taken notice to his companions reactions ever since they first met. John always tensed around him. He always blushed lightly. He always started to sweat in small amounts. Nervous. John was nervous around him wasn't he? How fun. He decided to test his theory. He turned and walked back up to the man sitting and stood behind him, watching him type.
"What." John asked flatly. "Did I write something wrong again?" He started to reread what he was writing. Sherlock didn't say a word as he studied his posture. He watched as Johns shoulders rose slightly and how his leg started to tap as he grew closer. Very interesting.
"John.." Sherlock said lowly. If his hunch was right, how would their relationship continue?
"What?" He turned his head slightly to face him. Sherlock reached out carefully and cupped his cheek. Did the blogger have feelings for the detective? "Sherlock?" Only one way to test it.
