"Or I'll turn you over myself, and you won't like it." Sherlock growled, meaning every single word of what he said. He may look like a mortal, but that didn't mean he was as weak as a mortal. He could pick John up with one hand and not exert any energy.

"If I was my true form, I'd rip your mortal body apart." Lust and anger mixed in his voice. He wanted John, and now he was trying to be coy and argumentative? He was playing a dangerous game.

Just to prove that he wasn't kidding, he easily picked John up off the bed, holding him over his head, almost flush with the low ceiling in his flat.

He turned John over and dropped the man onto the bed, simply letting go, so he actually bounced slightly as he fell back to the mattress. But he was on his stomach, like Sherlock wanted him.