"Joooohn!" 

The army doctor almost jumped out of his skin and spilled his tea when he heard Sherlock shout his name like he'd threw all his experiments in the bin. 

John sighed and relaxed himself before standing up and walking to the sitting room to check on his friend. 

"Yes, Sherlock?" John stood before Sherlock who was sprawled on the couch. 

The detective merely glanced at him and groaned. He really looked like someone had sucked the life out of him. 

The doctor sighed. "You called me. I'm assuming it's important." 

Sherlock looked at him, lazily turning his head. "I'm dying, John." 

Confusion was written all over the doctor's face until he realized what his flatmate meant. John shook his head and suppressed a smile, "No. You're just bored, Sherlock." 

Sherlock suddenly stood up, scratching his head violently. "That's exactly my point, John!"

John winced at the action. He kind of pictured Sherlock ripping his hair off and exposing his brains because of the way he did the scratching. 

"I need something to keep me from being bored, John. I'm dying!" 

"As I said, you're just bored." John said, licking his lips and biting his lower lip to keep himself from smiling. 

"What's so funny, Doctor?!" Sherlock said seriously.

"I'm not laughing." John was a bad liar. 

Sherlock ignored John's lie and grabbed the latter's shoulders like it was the end of the world, "I suggest you do something before I go crazy, John!"

"What? Me?"

"Obviously." 

"I can't." John shrugged. Sherlock glared at him so he just tried to come up with a suggestion, "How about we watch something then?" 

"Telly?!" Sherlock laughed sarcastically. "Telly is crap, John. You know I hate telly. I don't understand why you -" 

John covered his flatmate's mouth with his hand and tried to think of something. "Shopping? How 'bout shopping then?" 

Sherlock groaned and John knew the answer. 

"Hm... dishes? We can do the dishes together." 

Groan.

"Let's ask Mrs. Hudson to teach how to bake something then?" 

Growl.

"Uh... Hm... Cluedo?" 

Sherlock bit John's hand. 

"Ouch! You!" 

The doctor held his hand and gave Sherlock the deadliest glare anyone could ever see. 

"Okay, yes!" John snapped. "You hate all my suggestions then!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes at John, "No, I don't hate them. I just don't think they'd entertain me. And next time, don't cut me off by putting your hand over my mouth. God knows what you've held and touched with those hands." 

John let out a huge sigh and massaged the bridge of his nose. "Okay. Cool. Shut up. Now, just... just relax. I've got something else on my mind. I think this would help with the boredom and frustration... and the anger and everything. It won't entertain you and I don't even know if it's a good idea but as I said, I think it would help. So stay there, don't move and wait for me." 

The doctor gently took his flatmate's hand off his shoulders and walked to the kitchen. When he came back, he already had a box of chocolates in his hands. He waved them to Sherlock and a smile spread across his face.

"What's that?" Sherlock asked, skeptical.

John walked quickly back to Sherlock and shoved the box on the detective's chest, "Sometimes sweets make it better."

Sherlock took the box, his hand brushing against John. He was totally confused and was still trying to figure out what good it would do him to eat the chocolates. And when the hell did John buy that box of... what? 

"John -"

"Sherlock, trust me on this. Sweets do wonders to your mood." John smiled and walked to the couch. 

"Proof?"

"Just. Eat." John sat on the couch and watched as his flatmate followed him. The detective opened the box and wrinkled his nose. 

"Cavities." Sherlock said, totally convinced that if he'd taste even a little of those chocolates, his teeth would rot immediately, "John, do you know what it would do to -" 

Before the detective could impart his knowledge and blabber about what cavities would do to ones teeth, John had already shoved a chocolate in his mouth and shut him up with that. 

"Eat. Don't talk." 

Sherlock was shocked. He gaped at John, but his flatmate only smiled at him and told him to close his mouth because it was not nice to see someone chewing with his mouth open. 

And well, he did as he was told.

"You know," Sherlock says after a moment while chewing the mood changers, "this would be a lot sweeter if you fed them to me gently, John. Like how you feed your girlfriends or whatever they're called."

"Sorry. I'll be gentle then." And John fed Sherlock with all the gentleness in the world. 

The doctor watched as Sherlock ate and chewed and swallowed. Then when the detective would finish, he'd move to get another piece of chocolate and feed it to him. That went on for quiet a while until Sherlock spoke and John's hand stopped right in front of Sherlock's lips.

"This is sweet." The detective remarked.

"You just noticed that?" 

Sherlock shook his head. "No." He cleared his throat, "I meant this." and raised a finger, pointing at him and John. "You, feeding me." Sherlock continued to speak and John smiled. 

"You're sweet, John." 

"Haven't heard that in a while. Thanks." John feeds Sherlock the chocolate.

"Thanks for putting up with me. You're amazing and fantastic." 

"Ow-kay, that's too much praise, Sherlock." John couldn't stop the smile that was spreading across his face as he was feeding his flatmate. 

He was saying sweet things now.

"You deserve it." Sherlock says, chewing.

Silence. Feed. Chew. 

"You enjoying this?" John asked, watching Sherlock.

"Definitely." Chew, chew, swallow.

"Need water?" 

"Later."

"Is your throat okay? You've eaten a lot, Sherlock." 

Sherlock nodded and hummed as a response. John figured it was better to stop talking to his flatmate and just let him eat because he seems to be enjoying what he's doing. (Rare moment, must cherish.)

Silence.

"Do I keep on feeding you then?" John asked.

Sherlock smiled and nodded his head, "Yes, please." 

John smiled and kept on feeding Sherlock, ocassionally wiping the sides of the latter's mouth with his thumb. At this, Sherlock smiles and ask himself if John is aware of what he was doing. The detective smirks because obviously, he wasn't, because if he was, he'd stop by now and blush and be like, "I'm not gay!" 

Sherlock chuckles, and after a moment, he spoke.

"Sweets don't make everything better, John." He looks up and stares at the doctor's eyes, "You do."