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Mint.

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John was having a wonderful time. It was late at night and he had spent the last half hour making passionate love to Sherlock. He had whispered in his ear, he had sucked, rubbed and generally made much of all his erogenous zones and at last he had Sherlock just where he wanted him, breathless and gasping and on his hands and knees.

John was just paying attention to Sherlock's most fantastic rear when he heard a loud crunching sound. He sat up on his heels. "Are you eating something?" he asked, trying not to sound seriously irritated and failing utterly.

Sherlock, who was never guilty about anything when not in bed, looked back over his shoulder and muttered "it's a Mint Imperial."

"I'm making love to you and you're eating a Mint Imperial!" shouted John "where did you get it from?"

Sherlock looked very guilty. "I just found it" he said "it was by my pillow."

"By your pillow!" John groaned "so I'm wasting all this effort then, you'd rather just eat mints."

"Er, what you were doing was nice" said Sherlock, and then crunched his mint again.

"NICE!" shouted John.

"Very nice" Sherlock corrected, and crunched a third time "they're not usually this crunchy" he added "it must have been in my bed some time."

John sighed and got off the bed.

Sherlock rolled over onto his back. "Where are you going?" he asked, looking surprised "you said you were going to make me scream."

John looked pained. "I think I'd rather have a mint" he said.

THE END.