John pulled the curtain back, peering out. He was blushing deeply. Sherlock had been sitting on the floor, staring at the curtain, for ten minutes already.
“Sherlock, you know I'm not going to get out until you leave, right…?” John asked.
Sherlock didn't respond. He was staring into space. John dropped the curtain.
So here he was, naked in a bathtub, and Sherlock-fucking-Holmes was sitting on the bathroom floor, waiting for him to get out. John sighed.
“Can you at least give me the towel?” He poked his head out again.
Oh, and, where was the towel? On Sherlock's lap, of course!
“I told you before, John, you have to get it yourself.” Sherlock said.
“Okay, well, this is sexual harassment. And I'm cold.” John crossed his arms.
“It isn't sexual harassment if both people want it, John.”
“I never said I wanted to be naked in front of you, Sherlock. I never said that.” John sighed, annoyed.
He heard Sherlock stand up.
“Are you going to let me leave? Or will I have to tear down the curtain and wrap it around me?” John asked sarcastically.
Sherlock didn't say anything, but a few seconds later, he pulled the curtain back and stepped inside, naked too.
John's cheeks went red, and he immediately covered himself.
“Sherlock Holmes!” John squeaked.
“John Hamish Watson!” Sherlock said, with enthusiasm lining his voice.
“Sexual harassment--!”
“John, stop, you know you like this.” Sherlock crossed his arms. “I heard you talking with Mrs Hudson. About your feelings. For me.”
John blushed harder, forcing his eyes away from Sherlock's body, which was a lot more attractive than he expected.
“Sherlock, please get out…”
Sherlock moved closer. “You can look at me, John. I don't care.”
John didn't want to look at Sherlock, but couldn't help glancing down and then looking back to the wall. Sherlock laughed.
He moved closer, pinning John against the wall. “You know, this is the most I've done with anyone ever, John,” Sherlock whispered.
“Well, I'd like to be warm and cozy and dry in my freaking bed if you decided all of a sudden that you wanted me.”
Sherlock rolled his eyes. “What's the fun of that? I wanted to come on strong, and I had no other idea than this.”
“Can I please get warmed up? I'm cold.”
“How about I warm you u--”
“It's a lot more romantic on a bed, Sherlock. Not in a shower.” John said, sighing.
Sherlock rolled his eyes and stepped out. He threw the towel at John. “Then I'll be waiting in your room.” He put his clothes back on and walked out.
John sighed and dried his hair, then put on his bathrobe and followed.