Author Note: This was derived from a prompt given by tumblr user sassyfries, in which John brings home a candy bracelet and Sherlock is interested in it. For the record, I have been taking prompts lately at my tumblr (.com) and so you'll be seeing a lot of one-shots derived from them. If you have a tumblr and would like to submit a prompt, you are more than welcome to do so there! Anyway, on with the story. Thanks for reading. :]

"Did you remember the milk?" Sherlock's voice called.

John rolled his eyes. He hadn't even come into the flat yet. Grocery bags in hand, he tramped up the rest of the way and entered through the kitchen. "My day has been hectic, and insane, but don't worry, Sherlock. I'm completely fine. How was your day?" John replied sarcastically, setting the bags upon what little counter space was left. He looked over to Sherlock.

Sherlock had his knees drawn to his chest in his chair. His eyes were transfixed to the TV, which was playing day-time television. Someone was screaming over the paternity of a child. Sherlock's face was blank. "Sherlock, are you—"

"Shhh." Sherlock cut him off quickly, holding his hand up. "I'm proving a point."

"A point? To who? No one—"

"Sh." Sherlock's hand folded, his fingertips resting on his thumb—the international sign for "Shut your mouth." His eyes never left the screen. John rolled his eyes, unpacking the few groceries he had before sitting in the chair opposite him.

Sherlock shut off the television only moments later and sprang to his feet. "I'm going mad John." he said. He began pacing, his jaw set. "There's been nothing for days. Days!" He wheeled around to look at John, eyes wide. "How cannothing have happened for this long?" He scrambled to John, falling to his knees as he grasped John by collar of his coat. "How?"

John's head shifted back involuntarily. He stared, eyebrows furrowed at Sherlock. "Well, erm. There have been, Sherlock. You haven't taken any." he replied cautiously. Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed, then he shook his head. "Those weren't cases John. Those weren't even crimes. They were little things, trivial matters, of no concern to me." His hands were still clasped onto John's jacket. John's head was still far enough back to be out of harms way.

Finally Sherlock let go. He flopped down with a heavy sigh and sprawled himself on the floor. "I'm going to burst John." he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "I'm going to spontaneously combust. And you'll have to clean the mess."

"You're not going to explode. And if you did, I wouldn't clean the mess." John said finally, standing. "We'll find you something. I don't know how much more of you like this I can handle." He held out his hand to Sherlock, an offer of support, and to lift him from the ground.

Sherlock grumbled beneath his breath as he reached up for John's hand. He was in the process of standing when he noticed something new. "What's this." he asked, standing. His fingers were delicately touching the candy bracelet around John's wrist. John looked down. He'd forgotten about that. "Oh, that." he said. He smiled at it, "It's a candy bracelet. I had a patient today, a little girl, and she gave it to me."

"Candy bracelet." Sherlock repeated. He was touching it gently, sliding it around John's wrist carefully. "Why would she give you a candy bracelet?" he pondered.

John shrugged. "For being a good doctor." he said simply. "I put it on, and must've forgotten to take it off before I left."

Sherlock didn't say much else. Instead, his eyes were transfixed by the bracelet. He held John's hand in his, holding it up to closer inspect it. John watched him. It had always fascinated John to see Sherlock become intrigued by something, as the tiniest things could capture his attention at random. But what interested John even more was Sherlock himself, a revelation that he'd come to terms with some time ago.

Sure, it had been a shock at first. He hadn't wanted to be mesmerized by the man. But he'd often found himself more interested in the way his eyes flickered over things, or the way his fingers grazed upon surfaces. He was more interested in his breathing, which varied based on how excited he was. No, it wasn't so much the cases or the deductions that kept John interested, it was definitely the man.

And there Sherlock was, intrigued by a bit of candy upon his wrist.

John swallowed silently, allowing himself to stare. Sherlock's ice blue eyes were darting from one little piece to the next. His fingers were dancing just over it, hovering just above the chalky bits. His eyebrow cocked quite suddenly, and his eyes moved upward to John. "These are candy, you say." he stated

"Yes." John replied quietly.

"They look like chalk." Every word Sherlock said, John could feel against his skin. Sherlock flipped his hand over, exposing his wrist, and continued staring. "These can be used as chalk."

"You've never had one?" John asked.

Sherlock made a face, his nose scrunching in disgust. "I don't like sweets." he murmured.

"Surely you've seen them."

"Mmm." Sherlock replied evenly. He brought John's wrist to his nose, inhaling deeply. John's stomach tensed. He tried to look elsewhere, on the off chance that Sherlock's eyes suddenly find his face once again, but his pulse—he was sure—was beginning to quicken. Any moment, Sherlock would realize it. Any moment, he would begin questioning John's racing heart. John shut his eyes. He counted backwards in his head, first from ten, then from twenty, attempting to slow his pulse.

Sherlock, apparently, hadn't noticed.

"So you eat them then." he said instead. His head tilted. John nodded, though Sherlock wasn't looking. "Yeah, you eat them. It's candy." he replied, attempting to right himself. Sherlock could be a prat, but he could certainly be an enticing one.

"How?" Sherlock breathed.

John tensed once again. "Well, you just bite them off."

Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed momentarily. "That's it?"

John shrugged. "That's it."

Sherlock's eyes squinted. They shifted from John's face and back to the bracelet a few times before they stopped on John's eyes. "May I?" He asked, standing upright. He had John's hand in his still. John shrugged. "Don't see why not."

There is where John made his mistake.

A normal human being would've then dropped his hand. They would've waited until John had handed them the candy bracelet. Or hell, perhaps they would've simply slipped it from his wrist. Perhaps that's what John had expected when Sherlock had asked to take a nibble from the bracelet.

What he found happened instead caused him a much larger reaction than he'd anticipated.

Sherlock brought John's wrist to his mouth. His teeth grasped hold of one of the pieces of chalky candy. John could feel Sherlock's lips graze against the delicate underside of his wrist. He tried not to focus on the feeling of Sherlock's mouth closing around the candy, the sensation of his teeth combing over his skin just delicately enough to catch the bottom piece. But it was hopeless. His stomach tensed, his heart began to race, and he knew that his pulse was beginning to quicken beneath Sherlock's lips.

And at that very moment, Sherlock's eyes locked onto his.

John swallowed. There was no explaining his way out of it. Sherlock had felt it, he knew it. Sherlock had felt his pulse jump and he was working through what it meant already. John pressed his lips together, his eyebrows rising just slightly. "So?" he attempted to ask.

Sherlock lifted his head. He chewed the candy slowly. He was squinting at John, suspicious evident. After a thoughtful moment, he released John's wrist. "Looks like chalk, smells like chalk, tastes like chalk." he said once he'd swallowed. "All signs point to chalk."

John smiled. "Then I'll remember not to bring you candy bracelets." He was waiting for the next speech, the one that started with his pulse and ended with a let-down. He could see Sherlock piecing the information together and was simply waiting for him to voice it when Sherlock turned away. "No, I expect not. Then again, my sweet tooth isn't quite as developed as some." He said instead. He sat down at his desk then, opening his laptop and beginning to type.

"That's it, then?" John asked after a moment. He was relieved, of course, that Sherlock had said nothing, but part of him wanted it confronted.

Sherlock turned his head and looked at John. "You were expecting me to mention the dilation of your pupils or the quickening of your pulse." he said with a smirk. John froze. He shouldn't have said anything. "I could jump to many different theories, all of which would probably be correct in their own way, but I've decided to dismiss them completely and chalk your reactions up to physical stimulus."

"Nerves." John replied meekly, grabbing up his newspaper and taking his seat.

"Nerves don't cause your pupils to dilate, John." Sherlock retorted, eyes back on the laptop.

"Just nerves." John repeated.