It's rare for me to post twice in one day - but this just begged to be written, and I couldn't wait once it was done!
Disclaimer: Only my mistakes and original storyline belong to me!

It occurred to Sherlock, after an hour of silence, that he missed John's mutterings and admonitions to take a break from his experiments. He frowned.

Sitting up and taking his eyes from the microscope he stared at the back of the blond head, as if the answer could be read among the short golden strands.

Turning away from the window, John caught Sherlock's scrutiny and smiled, walking slowly into the kitchen and switching on the kettle.

He raised his hand, crooked as if holding an invisible cup, and made a tipping motion in front of his face. Sherlock's frown deepened, so the doctor repeated the action, waggling his eyebrows and tipping his head towards the kettle.

"Are you offering me tea?" Now the detective just looked confused.

John nodded, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard, putting them on the worktop and turned to raise his eyebrows at his partner once more.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and returned to his slides, trusting that the required cup of tea would materialise.

xXx

"John, would you switch the light on for me?"

Silence.

When he had asked the question a second time, with the same lack of response, he looked up, expecting to see the other man either engrossed in one of those awful novels he seemed to be addicted to, or as was more likely, asleep with the book open on his lap.

Surprise widened his eyes when he saw that John was actually watching television. What's more, he was watching television with the sound off, and the subtitles on.

Sherlock rewound the events of the afternoon, what was it that John had done when he told him to be quiet? As he tapped his lips with his fingertips a picture dropped into his mind, and he saw again John, pulling his thumb and index finger across his mouth as if zipping it up, and then producing an invisible key and locking the zip in place. Yes, he nodded to himself, and then he had swallowed the invisible key – stupid! If he'd locked his lips how on earth could he swallow the key?

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he rose and walked into the living room, fascinated by the silent laughter that seemed to be rattling through the doctor as he watched an old Ealing comedy. He stood between the man and the television.

Unperturbed, John leant to one side, watching the film around the lanky genius standing in front of him.

"John…."

John looked up and held a finger to his lips.

"No John, this is ridiculous…."

This time John's face moved into an exaggerated pout, only this time he stood, and put his finger over Sherlock's lips. The younger man jerked his head back.

"Stop this John; you take me too literally someti…."

This time a hand, gently placed, silenced him, and he frowned down in confusion.

Turning to pick up the TV remote, John switched it off, and took hold of Sherlock's hands, pulling him gently towards the hallway, and each time the taller man opened his mouth to speak a finger was placed against his lips.

In silence they moved to the bedroom, where John turned back the duvet and tipped his head towards the crisp Egyptian cotton sheet, moving around to his side of the bed and slowly, his eyes never leaving Sherlock's, his removed his clothes.

Sherlock was fascinated – it was the most erotic silent striptease he had ever seen. And when it was over John slipped in under the covers, smoothing his hand down Sherlock's side of the bed in soundless invitation.

Almost ripping his clothes in his haste to join the doctor, Sherlock opened his mouth to speak but John shook his head, lying back on the pillows; one hand under his head and the other tracing circles on his stomach. The sight intensified the younger man's already painful arousal, and as he finally slipped in next to his lover the older man reached for him, leaning over him and kissing him senseless.

As Sherlock came up for air, so John moved downwards, finding and suckling a tight aroused nipple. A moan escaped, and without moving his lips from their prize the doctor's hand slid up and once more a finger sealed Sherlock's lips.

Now, as the blond head moved with nips and licks across his chest, and as hands moved over bodies both pale and golden, the only sounds that could be heard in that darkened room was the hissing intake and exhalation of breath as yet another erogenous zone was kissed, or stroked, or cupped, and even as they reached their mutual orgasm still they said not a word, their breath shuddering and sighing from them as movements slowed, and sweat slicked and sticky bodies settled entwined.

John fell asleep quickly, his head resting on a warm pale chest. Sherlock took a little longer, and would have been surprised to realise that his last conscious thought was that John should teach him mime more often.

A/N: To see Martin Freeman zipping and locking his lips as described in this story, watch the short film – The Girl Is Mime – available on YouTube….that man is BRILLIANT!

Ealing comedies were black and white films made by the Ealing Film Studios 1947-1957, light-hearted and very funny.