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"John, this movie is unbearably dull."
"Shh!"
It was Friday night. There was no case on; nowhere to go. John had rented a new American movie, Interstellar, and wanted to watch it. After battling with Sherlock for several minutes about the violin, Sherlock had resigned and sat down next to him.
"But John--"
"Shh!" John pressed a finger to Sherlock's lips. "You may be a genius, but I need quiet to understand the physics behind this." He removed the finger.
"It's really quite simple."
"For you, maybe."
Sherlock sighed and slid over to lean against John. His head rested on his shoulder as he stared, unfocused, at the screen. The acting was mediocre and the plot had several holes, to say the least. But above all, the moral of the movie seemed to circulate around love, of all things. So instead of focusing on the horrifically dull plot, he focused on far more interesting things. Like, for instance, how John's chest rose and fell as he breathed. Or the movement of John's muscles as he reached to get his drink from the table without disturbing Sherlock.
"Sentiment is a useless emotion," Sherlock mumbled into John's shoulder.
"Oh, I don't think so," John replied. He reached a hand up to stroke through Sherlock's curls.
"I know what you think," Sherlock grumbled. Even still, he tilted his head just so to give John better access. Those steady doctor's fingers twirled through his hair again. Sherlock leaned closer to his doctor.
Maybe, if John would keep doing this, the movie wouldn't be so boring.