This is a new, somewhat planned out, kind of long story. Hoping to included all sorts of trouble Sherlock and John get into when those two simple sentences are spoken.

Warning for lots of smut in future chapters.

Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading. Feedback/reviews/critiques are greatly appreciated.

One terribly cold flat, one drop of jam and two very short but foolish sentences was all it took. At least that's what John put the blame on for the mischief that soon followed that chilly morning.

Those four things, when combined together, caused a chain reaction of trouble which included being permanently banned from two local restaurants, a very grumpy Mrs. Hudson, a broken kitchen table, the need for Sherlock to purchase a new scarf, an empty jar of jam and later a terribly upset stomach, Sherlock finally getting embarrassed in public, and both of them getting arrested.

And the promise to never utter those words again, at least until the kitchen table was repaired and their record cleared.

John really didn't want to get out of bed even though his stomach wouldn't stop grumbling.

Not wanting to leave the comfort of the bed was partly due to the bedroom being unexpectedly chilly. But mostly it was because, under a mountain of blankets, Sherlock's toasty 'not wearing anything but his silk pants' body lying up against him felt too damn good for John to want to get up.

There was the option of darting out of the room to turn the heat up but doing that would eventually cause Sherlock to put on more clothing. Keeping Sherlock mostly bare in bed was a much higher priority to him than warming up the flat regardless of how hungry he was.

John decided that suffering a bit of cold to grab a quick breakfast and eating in bed was a better option.

Slowly worming his way out of Sherlock's embrace without waking him, John slid out of bed and has immediately assaulted with how cold the room was. Grabbing one of the extra blankets to wrap around himself, he shuffled into the kitchen to make coffee and breakfast.

He started to make food for the both of them but remembered it was only Tuesday, Sherlock wouldn't bother with breakfast until at least Friday, so instead he just made himself some toast with jam. While waiting for the coffee to brew, spreading raspberry jam on his toast and thinking of his just silk pants wearing lover waiting in bed, an amusing thought struck him.

Once breakfast was prepared, John clumsily returned to the bedroom trying to keep the blanket around him with a mug of coffee in each hand and a piece of toast with jam hanging from of his mouth. The little tease he had planned almost didn't happen when he entered the room. John was positive he would never tire of Sherlock's ability to cause him so many frequent jaw-dropping moments even if it almost made him drop the piece of toast from his mouth.

Sherlock had woken up while he was out of the room and was now sitting crossed legged on the bed, wrapped loosely in the heavy duvet. His eyes only half-open still coming out of sleep. Dark hair perfectly disheveled and the blanket open just enough to give a view of that exquisite chest and a hint of one delightful, pale thigh. Add in a sweet, tired smile and John still couldn't wrap his head around how Sherlock could look so innocently adorable and sexy as fuck at the same time.

John stood in the doorway taking it all in until he noticed the toast precariously dangling from his lip. He stumbled forward and passed over a coffee to Sherlock, giving him a free hand to catch his meal before it fell to the floor.

"Morning." Sherlock's voice was just as sleepy as his smile.

So transfixed John didn't reply or move, he just stood there grinning back at this sublime creature.

"Get back in bed. You're freezing."

That snapped him back, feeling the cold again in the room.

He placed his own mug on the night table and climbed back into bed. Sherlock covered him up with the extra parts of the duvet and John was thankful he had nixed idea of his lovely partner putting on any additional clothing as he now had a perfect view of his mostly bare body.

Leaning back against the headboard he nibbled at his toast while Sherlock sipped at his hot coffee. The morning might have gone on just like that, a quiet breakfast in bed, Sherlock silently watching him eat and John loving ever second of the attention, if not for a small bit of jam.

A bit of jam that just happened to completely, absolutely, without a doubt, accidentally drip off John's toast and drop on to his chest.

That well-placed…um accidental drop of jam was all it took for an immediate change to come over Sherlock. He froze mid-sip, the coffee mug unmoving right below his lips, those tired eyes grew wide. That sleepy grin disappeared as Sherlock licked his lips in anticipation of the treat that now presented itself.

Sherlock had gone from sleepy, adorable and sexy as hell to looking like a vampire who hadn't fed in years spotting a fresh pulsing vein. With John looking back at him as his perfectly willing victim.

In a blur of movement, Sherlock almost spilled his coffee trying to place it table behind him and John barely had time to put his half eaten toast next to his forgotten coffee before Sherlock fell on to him, lapping up the bit of jam off his chest with one very wet, long lick.

What happened next was not entirely what John had intended by that completely accidental spill of jam. It was only supposed to be a minor tease about a particular fondness of Sherlock's. It wasn't supposed turn into a ten minute heated debate between two supposedly intelligent adults consisting mainly of 'yes you do' and 'no I don't'.

A debate that would only end when those two not well thought-out sentences were uttered in the heat of the moment. Heat of the moment having little to do with the content of their debate and more to do with them both being mostly naked in bed, trying to out-distract each other.

And that's all it took to start the oncoming mischief. A chilly flat, a bit of jam and two sentences spoken by two remarkably stubborn lovers. "I bet I can" and "I bet you can't".