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Many things could have been said about Sherlock Holmes, but surely nobody would call him an expert in the fields of love and dating. Those subjects remained an unsolvable riddle to him, even though his friendship with doctor Watson had changed not so long ago into something more. Sherlock, as always when in doubt, decided to consult a specialist for additional information. The paper specialist.

The detective was sprawled across the couch in a lazy pose, browsing intently through the newest issue of "Cosmopolitan" which became recently a hobby of his, much to John's dismay, since he usually fell victim to Sherlock's experiments that were as romantic as they were eccentric.

The main topic of the magazine (apart from a guide how to choose a fitting pair of high heels to your miniskirt) was how to win your crush's heart. According to the author of the article, the best way to do it was to go on an exciting date to the cinema. Sherlock found it really peculiar – movies always seemed really boring to him – but he didn't want to argue with an expert. He and John went on a date once to the bowling alley, but maybe it was time to try something more traditional. The moment the front door opened and John slowly entered the living room, wanting to properly say hello, Sherlock jumped off the sofa and stated in a peremptory tone:

"John, we're going to the cinema!"

"Excuse me?" John was so taken aback that he froze with one of his feet in mid-air.

"You've heard me. I won't repeat myself," he grabbed John by his elbow and lead him downstairs without further ado.

John tried to protest, but all of his objections were promptly rejected. When Sherlock insisted on something, no power in the universe could change his mind.

"Why do you want to go to the cinema, anyway? You don't even like films!" John remarked astutely, trying another tactic. "Is this all about a case?"

"No, John. Quite the contrary. We're going on a date," he said matter-of-factly.

"A date?" John echoed, making a silly face. "Sherlock, that's..."

But Sherlock was fed up with John's whining. He shut him up with a fiery kiss and smiled winsomely.

"It'll be fun."

John sighed heavily, giving up. Arguing with Sherlock was pointless. He always had his way. Especially when he smiled like that, knowing perfectly well that John simply couldn't resist it.

It was a middle of the week and still relatively early, so there weren't many prospective viewers in the cinema. John managed to leave work earlier today, hoping he could finally get some rest, maybe read a book or simply go to sleep. Unfortunately, Sherlock cared very little for other people's plans. John shot a swift glance at his partner, who was eyeing the "now showing" table. Well, at least John was never bored.

"I don't know anything about films, John," he admitted indifferently. Neither of the movie titles seemed familiar. "Pick something up."

"Okay..." John began to read the list with more care. He stood so close to Sherlock that he felt the warmth of his body. They didn't hold hands, though. John was still reluctant to show his affections towards another man in public. When they were alone, not a problem. However, the presence of other people made him feel uneasy. Sherlock seemed to understand and respect that. Or, which was more probable, he simply didn't care. "We have here three rom-coms, they're out of the question, some war movie, a horror for teenagers and... oh, I didn't now it's still on!"

"What's on?" Sherlock asked blandly.

"The Avengers."

"What's that?"

"A superhero film. It's rather lowbrow and popcorn movie, but apparently quite palatable." John explained and added an anecdote. "A famous British actor, Tom Hiddleston, is starring there. You probably don't know that, but teenage girls are now totally mad about him. Not long ago we had in our ward a chick who came here all the way from Peru to stalk him and...

"Fine, we can watch this." Sherlock interrupted him brusquely with a dismissive gesture. Apparently he wasn't interested in adventures of some crazy fangirls.

John was used to being treated irreverently, so he wasn't offended, though probably he should. The doctor just sighed inwardly, begging whatever god was listening right now to grant him more patience, and stood in queue to get the tickets. Of course, it was John who had to buy them, even though Sherlock had invited - or rather ordered - him to the cinema. Still, his flatmate had a very particular talent to selectively forget his wallet.

While John was preoccupied with choosing the seats and pondering upon the advantages of each row, Sherlock was scanning the surrounding, trying to catch every vital detail. The Avengers was a popcorn flick, right? Sherlock smirked as a daring idea appeared in his head. He headed off across the hall with feline grace.

John noticed that he had been reciting a monologue not until a whole two minutes passed. He was embarrassed as he took the tickets from the amused cashier – he could have sworn that the girl winked at him meaningfully – and started to look about in order to find his prodigal friend. A friend, that was how he still called Sherlock in his thoughts, even though they had been together as a couple for quite a while now. Old habits die hard.

The moment John spotted Sherlock, his blood pressure skyrocketed. The detective was lost in a conversation with some young man, who was sitting alone at the table. A young and quite handsome man, John noted with anger rising in his chest. Did Sherlock propose a date just to make his boyfriend jealous? If that was the case, the plan succeeded perfectly. John gnashed his teeth and was about to lunge forward with foam at the mouth to fight for what was rightfully his, when the young man stood up suddenly and stormed in the direction of the toilets, the look of fury on his face.

John was struck dumb, unable to comprehend what was happening. He decided to wait and see how the situation would develop. John watched aghast how Sherlock was following the man with his gaze, and when the guy disappeared round the corner, the detective snatched nonchalantly the untouched box of popcorn from the man's table. Holmes then turned to his lover and when his gaze finally met John's, a smug smile crept on Sherlock's face. He reached insolently into the box and took a fistful of popcorn, placing it casually into his mouth while coming closer to John.

A choked giggle forced its way up from Watson's throat.

"You're simply incorrigible," he said with conviction, shaking his head slowly. "What did you say to that guy?" John asked, helping himself to some of the salty loot.

"Oh, I just pointed out that his girlfriend is cheating on him with a cinema employee in the toilet. Female cinema employee, to be exact." Sherlock grinned mischievously, taking another fistful. "I don't suppose he'd be thinking about his lost popcorn when he comes back, but let's go take our seats, shall we? Just to be safe."

Sherlock once again made John laugh breathlessly. Certainly, he was never bored with the world's only consulting detective.

Sherlock must have really liked the taste of stolen popcorn, because he wolfed everything down even before the commercials ended. That was quite unfortunate turn of events, since he started to make loud and snarky comments about the videos. The auditorium was almost empty – only a couple of teenagers sitting a few rows below them – but John still entreated Sherlock to be quiet, obviously to no avail. The detective always did what he wanted. John sighed with relief when the movie actually started. He hoped that Sherlock would be engrossed and interested enough to keep his mouth shut. And exactly that happened. At least for the next ten minutes.

After ten minutes of peering at the screen, finding three mistakes and deciding that the film is stupid and disregards every known and unknown law of physics, Sherlock started to get bored to death. He peeped at John, who seemed to be riveted by the action taking place on the screen. Sherlock smelled a challenged here. Nothing could preoccupy John more than his boyfriend. Sherlock cast a furtive glance at his phone and then immediately put his hand on John's knee. That was only phase one of the plan, but it was quite satisfying to see John jump in his seat. Phase two, however, was crucial to the success of the whole operation. Sherlock's fingers slid to the inner part of John's thigh, where they began to move from his groin to his knee in a suggestive and provocative manner.

John became as red as a beetroot. He found it gradually harder to focus on the movie.

Don't pay any attention to him, don't pay any attention, he repeated to himself several times, knowing that Sherlock is just teasing him. Obviously, the detective had a different aim in mind than simply to make John feel pleasure. Easy to say, harder to do, though, since the doctor's brain slowly but surely started to abandon its duties as the organ responsible for thinking. John stifled the loud moan growing in his throat by joining lips with Sherlock. The detective kissed him back eagerly, at the same time producing the phone from his pocket.

"Three minutes, twenty seven seconds," he whispered in a scholarly tone when they parted.

"What?" John blinked a few times in genuine surprise.

"The time between the stimulus – my hand on your thigh – and the predicted response – a passionate snog," he explained smugly, clearly proud of himself and awaiting praise.

John gave out a sound that strangely resembled a growl. Yes, he had expected something like that from Sherlock. The detective invariably treated him like his own lab rat.

John turned to the screen once again, folding his arms on his chest and ignoring Sherlock ostentatiously, resentment rolling off him in waves. Nothing happened for the moment because the detective had to process the fact that he had done something bit not good. His brows came together as if he was trying to make sense of it. Then he began to poke John's arm with his index finger. Next he grabbed the doctor's elbow and tugged on it. Finally, he launched into a symphony of dirges. Sherlock hated to be ignored and desperately begged for attention.

"John... John... John! I am sorry, okay? Really. John! Jaaawn?"

John was only waiting for this. He turned his head towards Sherlock and said triumphantly:

"Two minutes, nineteen seconds." Seeying Sherlock's confused stare, he explained with a sneer. "The time between the stimulus – me taking an offence – and the predicted response – apologies and jaaawning. I won, Sherlock!"

Sherlock couldn't maintain a straight face and he burst out laughing, not paying any attention to the rest of the people who were shushing him.

"You've been counting seconds in your mind, you certainly must have made a mistake."

"Thanks for believing in me, Sherlock," he said sarcastically.

"Always at your service." Sherlock leaned closer, tangling his fingers in John's sandy hair. He started to kiss him slowly and John was gracious enough to repay the favour. Neither of them glanced even once at the screen until the movie ended.

When they were leaving the cinema, Sherlock tucked an arm around John's waist and smiled at him roguishly.

"I told you it would be fun!"

John, whose face was reddened, his eyes glistening and his lips puffy from kissing, couldn't agree more.