Love is an incredibly curious thing indeed. (Sherlock one on one) (Closed!)

"What am I thinking then?" Sherlock asked sarcastically.

“You’re thinking that I was deeply affected by your death and only took this room because it made me feel like I was closer to you.” He said. “This, however, is wrong because I only moved because it gets cold up there in the winter.”

"Nope. That's not what I was thinking at all." Sherlock lied, convincingly.

John withheld a pout as he went into the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”

"No, but I'll sit and be with you while you eat."

Failing to hide his blush this time, he turned his head and opened the refrigerator to empty white walls. There was no use in using it before because even when he did eat he would eat out. He returned to the kitchen table with two tea cups and a tea pot. “Tea?”

"I'll take two sugars and an eyeball." Sherlock said. Tea would be nice.

John stared at him incredulously, chuckling after a minute. “I’ve missed you.” He nodded while pouring Sherlock and himself a cup of tea, plopping two cubes of sugar in Sherlock’s cup and leaving his plain.

"So how has your little blog been?" Sherlock asked, sipping his tea.

“Ancient.” He replied, staring down at the reflection in his tea cup.

"Mmm. Well, I just updated my Twitter so you might want to continue it soon."

“You changed your status from dead to alive.” He stared up at Sherlock with a hint of laughter. “I will continue it.” He breathed in deep, a small smile grazing his features.

Sherlock stared at John. He didn't blink, and kept staring for a few minutes.

John’s eyebrows drew together. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

Sherlock didn't say anything, he just continued to stare.

John waited with curious look on his face before awkwardly glancing to his tea and taking a drawn out sip. Still feeling Sherlock’s gaze, he returned his eyes back his.

"Bored." Sherlock finally said.

“You need a case already?” He feigned shock. “Come on. I’ll write on the blog just please do not start shooting at the wall.”

"What if the wall deserves it?" Sherlock asked.

“I assure you it does not.” He sighed. “There. Look. We’re already receiving cases.” He turned his computer towards Sherlock so he could read the messages.

"Boring. Those I could solve in under a minute. I'm going to call Lestrade."

“Oh, come on. Not even the disappearing lamp shade draws some attention?” He laughed.

"That? Hardly. Idiotic." he muttered.

“Alright, well, tell me if he has a case. If you don’t mind, I’m going to rest my eyes a bit.” He said while walking over to the bed and laying down.

Sherlock dialed the number. No answer. He texted. No answer. Then, his phone rang. After a few minutes of angry shouting from Lestrade, there was still no case and a discouraged Sherlock. He grabbed a handgun and shot the wall multiple times, but even this bored him.

John bolted out of the bed at the sound first gun shot. “The bloody- I take it back, you know. I have not missed you.”

"Don't be daft, you idiot." Sherlock said, but it was an affectionate "idiot" that Sherlock only gave to John. "You missed me."

“I did. And I bloody hate it.” He blustered, putting his arms behind his head as he laid back down.

"What? I'm bored?" Sherlock said, flopping violently into the couch and shooting the wall again.

“Could you stop that?” He cried. “Would you like to go out and eat so you can observe people?”