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“Mycroft was right.”
“Are you feeling all right, Sherlock?”
“I knew you would kill for me—”
“He was a very bad man.” John shifted, uncomfortably. “Look, if you have your answer—”
“I do. “
“Then I’ll tidy up.” John reached for the flannel.
“Don’t put that away.”
“I was going to bin it.”
“What?”
“We can’t eat it now.”
“Not the jelly, your penis.”
John sighed heavily. “Can you try that again for those of us who only speak English.”
“I speak seven languages and—“
“Sherlock!”
“Try to keep up, John. Mycroft said you’d do anything for me.”
“…So to test that hypothesis you asked me to stick my cock in lime jelly for a case.”
“Yes.”
“…To see if I’d do it.”
“Yes.”
“I need a drink.” John started to tuck himself away.
Sherlock put his hand on John’s arm to stop him. “I said not to do that.”
“What’s next, then? Trifle? Salad Cream? I draw the line at curry sauce.”
“Me.” Sherlock kissed him.
“You? You mean...?”
“Precisely. “ Sherlock took John’s hand and led him towards the bedrooms.
“Remind me to thank Mycroft.”
“No need, we’ll send him a case of Hartley’s and Lestrade’s home address.”
.