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The first time it happened, John hadn't noticed until Sherlock was wearing the jacket. He had just gotten back from visitng Harry after his sister had an especially bad relapse.
"Is that mine?" he asked, wondering why Sherlock would wear *his* jacket when he had a perfectly good one that fit him better.
"Yes. Mine was too heavy. Hope you don't mind."
John didn't say anything in response, because he knew that even if he said he did mind, Sherlock still wouldn't give it back. That was why the second and third time it happened, he said nothing.
Until the fourth time. John had returned from his parent's and had just gotten up the stairs when he saw that Sherlock had taken one of his precious jumpers. It was one that John's mother had bought him for his birthday, so not only did it have sentimental value, but Sherlock was stretching it to fit his long torso.
"Hey! Give that back, my mother gave it to me!" he was a little embarrassed by how childish he sounded, but Sherlock's response was just as, if not more, childlike.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I said so."
John groaned. "At least stop stretching it."
Sherlock didn't.
The fifth time it happened, John finally crossed his arms and put his foot down. Quite literally, because Sherlock was wearing one of his robes, and the end of it dragged on the floor (John sometimes preferred a very long robe). Sherlock was pulled back a bit. He stumbled, before turning with a petulant pout,
"Get off my robe!"
"It's not *your* robe, Sherlock! It's mine! Give it back!" honestly, he had just come home from visiting an old friend from the army! Couldn't he have a break?
"No!"
That was how Sherlock and John ended up wrestling the consulting detective out of the robe, and were pulling on it like a tug of war match.
"Sherlock, stop being such a child!"
"No!"
"I'm serious!"
"NO!"
The robe was ripped, and John was furious. He didn't talk to Sherlock for a little while, and as further punishment, blatantly ignored him. And if that was a childish response, well, he was dealing with a child anyway.
The sixth time it happened was not known to John. The item that was missing was a replacable shirt, of which John had at least two more identical ones. And Sherlock gave it back once the night was through.
Silence continued to reign in 221b. It was maddening to Sherlock, of course. John's readers were a bit peeved at not getting any updates, but Sherlock wouldn't take a case, so there was nothing to report.
After a whole week of not talking, it happened a seventh time. Sherlock was wearing John's favorite grey jumper as he shuffled aimlessly around the flat. John glared at him.
"Sherlock, take that off."
The consulting detective paused and turned. His momentary hopeful and happy expression faded quickly into a triumphant smirk. "He speaks."
"Yeah, so you will put that jumper back where it belongs."
Sherlock didn't. Of course he didn't. Not even when John tried to force him. Mrs. Hudson finally had to intervene and be the peacemaker. She called them children, and told Sherlock sternly to put the jumper back, and John to stop being so possessive of his clothing.
Sherlock pouted, putting the jumper back and sitting on the couch in annoyed silence.
All those times had been months ago. John finally remembered them now when Sherlock came out wearing another one of John's jumpers, sitting down on the couch next to him. It was nearing Christmas, and even with the heat turned up, the flat was still a bit cold.
Instead of glaring, John just smiled. "Why are you so enarmored with my clothes?"
Sherlock looked up from the paper he was reading. "...no reason."
"Oh come on. You have your own closet full of things you could wear that *fit* you for one." John bumped shoulders with him. "There must be something else."
Sherlock swallowed, looking back down at his paper. He mumbled something unintelligable.
"What?"
"You were away and they smelled like you." the words came out in a rush, Sherlock obviously slightly annoyed at his sentimentality as well as embarrassed.
John rolled his eyes and gave him a brief kiss. "You could have just phoned me."
"I prefer to text. And calling is not the same."
"...you are so lucky I love you, Sherlock Holmes."
"Mmnh."