Without even thinking about it, Sherlock bucked up a little bit, against nothing.

"John." he growled. "We don't have time." Of bloody course he loved every single wicked thing John's tongue, and other parts of his body could do.

Even though he was trying to warn John against trying something with not enough time before the food arrived, his body was not following what he was saying, as his hand moved across John's pajama bottoms, brushing the still soft soft underneath. Ah, no pants again. It was always nice when John did forgo with that extra annoying layer of fabric.