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John squeezed harder, his hand shaking up and down vigorously in a desperate attempt at releasing some more of the pearlescent substance into his other hand. With a groan, he watched a final pitiful amount escape before he gave up and chucked the shampoo bottle to the shower floor.
Sighing he raised what little he had to his wet hair and carefully worked up a lather outside of the spray. He had bought that bottle only a fortnight ago... His shower routine had not changed in frequency since then; in fact, he had spent the last three days away at a medical conference in Manchester! So there was no reason for the bottle to be empty now that he was back, unless... Sherlock!
John ducked his head under the water and quickly washed out the shampoo thoroughly. Turning the water off he stepped out and towel dried his hair and body before wrapping the white towel around his waist.
If his boyfriend had decided to use his shampoo for an experiment while he was away, he had some explaining to do, and John would demand he replace the bottle immediately.
He didn't have to look far to find him. Sherlock was sitting in the kitchen, looking into his microscope fervently. John's grip on his towel tightened.
"Sherlock."
"John."
"What happened to my shampoo?"
The detective peeled his gaze from the apparatus to give John a 'are you really asking me that?' look, before returning his attention to the microscope.
"What. Did. You. Do?" John asked tersely.
"I used it."
"For..."
"Washing my hair."
That caused John to blink.
"What?"
"I used your shampoo to wash my hair. Problem?"
"Yes! It is my shampoo Sherlock. You've your own ridiculously expensive brand you can use! Why are you using mine‽"
The detective muttered something. John took a step closer.
"Didn't catch that."
Sherlock took a deep breath before turning around on the seat to face John. There was a faint blush across his cheekbones.
"I said, I used it because the scent reminded me of you." John gaped as Sherlock babbled on, "you were gone... and... I missed you." John shook his damp hair, smiling affectionately at this.
"Next time, just Skype me."
Sherlock turned his head away with a pout as John stepped closer, leaning over and inhaling. Yes, the expensive sandalwood scent had been replaced with John's bargain brand. He moved his mouth to nibble at Sherlock's ear.
"I'm home now."
Sherlock bit his lip to contain whatever noise would've slipped out. John delighted in this. Coaxing Sherlock to meet his gaze again, he closed the distance, only briefly.
"Come on. Bedroom."