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Summary
John ate two slices of pizza and Sherlock a half while they lay next to each other on the mattress. After they were finished John tried to initiate a little kissing, reasoning they had nothing better to do anyway as it was hardly likely anyone would arrive or leave during the sacred hour of lunch. Besides, Sherlock looked inordinately appealing in the soft, filtered light of the tent, his lips shiny from the olive oil. Sherlock didn’t seem adverse at first, even opening his mouth to grant John access, but all of a sudden he started fidgeting and squirming, complaining John’s sighs and moans were giving their game away. John’s hand was already reaching for the knob on the transistor to deal with that little problem when Sherlock froze.