Sherlock wasn't just grumpy. Sherlock was cosmically, mind-blowingly furious. He sat on the couch sulking, as he had for three weeks, when John finally decided it was time for some drastic measures.
The only thing that was hurting was Sherlock's ego. Yes, Anderson had solved the case when Sherlock couldn't. Yes, the whole of Scotland Yard except for Lestrade had rubbed it in his face. Yes, he was red-faced and embarrassed. But for goodness sake, thought John, he could at least have sex with his boyfriend once in a while.
Now, John didn't really like initiating sex. He liked Sherlock to want it, and he like the feeling of being slammed against the wall (bed, couch, floor, banister, corpse…) and overpowered the way Sherlock did so well.
But as John pushed Sherlock back against the couch and slammed himself into straddling position, he thought maybe being in power wasn't all bad. Especially when he saw the look of surprise on Sherlock's face become even more shocked when John shoved his erection into Sherlock's hand.
"Do you know how annoying it is when you don't have sex with me? I've been sitting in my room for half an hour debating the pro's and con's of masturbating until I finally decided that I was sick of your moping. And now I'm going to fuck you."
Sherlock's eyebrows rose ever higher at the last sentence, but John had his hands through Sherlock's hair and was forcing entrance into his mouth and Sherlock didn't care anymore.
He'd almost forgotten about John in his anger (his ego was a very big part of his life) but now with John rubbing his growing hard on roughly through his pants, he cursed himself for doing so.
John's mouth was all over that stupidly long neck now, undoing the buttons of the silk shirt that he'd been worn since the last time Sherlock had been forced to change, three days ago. It was time for it to come off now, and it slipped of Sherlock's white shoulders in a ridiculously perfect fashion.
Sherlock grasped John's legs as John licked – not kissed, licked with his whole tongue – down Sherlock's sternum, dipping his tongue into Sherlock's belly button and gently pulling at the snail-trail with him teeth. By this point John was on his knees and painfully hard, so he undid his jeans and began pulling at his cock, and spreading the precome up Sherlock's chest.
Sherlock had just watched mesmerised so far, but now he began to run his hands over the back of John's head and neck as he wrenched down Sherlock's pyjama pants and began sucking on the penis there earnestly.
Sherlock let out a groan between his teeth and forgot his previous thought of wishing he'd washed himself some time.
John was still wanking fast, he eyes closed and he hollowed out his cheeks as Sherlock grabbed at the couch, picking up the Union Jack flag and shoving it into his mouth to muffle the noise, Mrs Hudson was home, after all.
It all ended quickly after that, Sherlock came and then John fell on his back and finished himself right afterwards. And then he crawled back up Sherlock and whispered in his ear, "Don't you ever deprive me again."
To which Sherlock answered, "I love you."