John licking that riszla paper real good, getting it nice and juicy so it’ll stick on Sherlock’s skin, and he looks up and Sherlock is just like :o with his sweet lil soft drunky face. And maybe John does that nasty little giggle of his and says, “C’mere you. Bend over.” And Sherlock bends forward way more than he needs to, so that his forehead is level with John’s chin (John can smell his hair product).
And John presses that paper onto Sherlock’s forehead and rubs his thumb back and forth over it. Then maybe he notices that Sherlock’s hair has flopped forward onto his forehead, so he brushes it back and it’s so soft, like he always thought it would be. And Sherlock looks up at John through his eyelashes and says in his soft tête-à-tête voice,”Is it on?” And John has forgotten, momentarily, what the legitimate purpose of all this distracting intimacy is. But he strokes Sherlock’s forehead with his thumb a few more times, “Yeah. It’s on.”