John was making a much needed pot of tea, Sherlock was reading a book in his chair, and you were sitting in Sherlock’s lap.
You rested your head in the area between the neck and shoulder and closed your eyes, a small smile forming. Whenever Sherlock turned a page, he would move his hand to run his fingertips up and down your arm before returning it to holding the book.
Your smile broadened. While you loved the consulting detectives enthusiam and high intellect when he was on a case, you also loved it when Sherlock was calm and showed a gentle, romantic affection towards you.
Then the moment was ruined when Mycroft walked through the door.
“Good morning John, (name), Sherlock,” the older Holmes greeted.