5- John’s brows go up in query; Sherlock’s tone is arresting, as is his expression as he swallows and immediately takes another small bite. Another soft, throaty moan works its way up that long neck and John’s comfy old denims seem to shrink a little. Licking his lips, Sherlock turns to John and snatches the newspaper out of his unresisting hands. “You listened,” he says as if John’s arranged for a quadruple locked-room murder with a note written in some convoluted cipher from the killer. (tbc)