"I said could you pass me a pen?" 

John just arrived at their flat and was surprised to immediately hear Sherlock's voice upon entering the  sitting room. The doctor looked behind him, puzzled as to whom Sherlock was talking to, but then he realized that he was the only person there. So, obviously, the detective was talking to him. 

Why was John even surprised? He was aware that Sherlock carries on talking even when he's on the other side of London. 

"What? When?" John asked, looking around for the pen.

"About an hour ago." 

"Didn't notice I'd gone out then?" The doctor tossed the pen and Sherlock caught it without even looking at him. 

"I went to see about a job at that surgery." John went to check himself out in the mirror and decided to talk about that interview he had. 

"How was it?" Sherlock asked. 

"Great. She's great." John sputtered while looking at himself in the mirror. He didn't really mean anything by that.

"Who?" 

"The job." He was telling the truth, the job was great. He really meant that the job was great. Not Sarah. Although she was also great. She was kind and very welcoming. 

"She?" 

Oh, God. Sounds like Sherlock is starting to misunderstand things. 

"It." John turned around to look at Sherlock, his I-am-an-honest-person look didn't seem to help.

“It, huh?”

Sherlock stood up with gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. He quickly grabbed his coat, threw the pen on the floor with so much force that it broke and immediately headed out the door.

John stood there. Shocked, surprised and puzzled. (Well, for a moment...)

Then, the doctor ran down and tried to follow the detective but the latter was already nowhere to be found. He smiled to himself, slowly ascended the stairs and fished out his phone from his pocket.

You were jealous, weren't you?

He was inside their flat when his phone buzzed in his hands.

You wish! SH

John giggled like a high school girl who's texting her crush. He immediately replied to Sherlock.

I don't have to, because you were really jealous.

A minute passed and his phone buzzed.

Fuck you. SH

Did you do that on purpose? SH

I did not. You misunderstood things. 

Fuck you. SH

John felt warm inside. Aww, Sherlock never fails to make his heart flutter even though his text was a bit... err... not romantic. 

You're mad?

What do you think?! SH

I'm sorry. Come home. I'll make it up to you.

How? SH

Oh, you know how.

No, I don't know. SH

That's a bit surprising. You know everything.

Are you mocking me!? SH

John was grinning like a lovesick school girl now.

I'm not mocking you, honey... 

Don't 'honey' me! SH

Come home, Sherlock.

Minutes passed (the detective seemed to be really furious). Then a text message arrived.

Pick me up. I'm at Bart's. SH

Okay, I will. I'm sorry.

Don't you ever do that again. SH

I will never do that again.

Promise? SH

I promise.

Good. SH

Thank you. 

You're a bloody idiot. SH

Yes, yes. I love you, too.

Shut up. Pick me up! Now! I'm waiting. SH

John smiled at his phone, like a crazy person, yes. Seconds later a text message came, but it wasn't from Sherlock. It was from Molly.

John, I really hope you could pick Sherlock up now. He's been torturing the corpse since he got here and he's doing it with his riding crop and I can't do anything. He said he'll stop when you arrive, so please. This is Molly by the way.

John chuckled and replied: I'll be there.