Drabble meme ...
I'm having a meh Monday morning. I'm trying to write my original stuff, but the muses are being bitches. Everything I type seems to be ... well ... meh! So in an effort to get the juices flowing I've decided to exercise the ole writing muscles, with your help if you're willing.
1. Drop me a comment with a one word prompt and a fandom I write in ( Read more... )
1. Drop me a comment with a one word prompt and a fandom I write in ( Read more... )
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"No!" John was adamant; he was not getting involved in Sherlock's family dramas.
"In this case, John, there is no such word as 'no'."
If John ground his teeth any harder he was pretty sure he would lose one or two. He had known up front that becoming involved with Sherlock on a personal level would mean complications, but Sherlock was treating him like some kind of trophy.
"Your brother can't make me do things even using half the British government, so don't think your mother can."
The invitation to Sunday lunch had arrived the previous evening and they had been arguing about it since. For some reason Sherlock had been positively delighted, as in the kind of delighted when there was a dead body; it made John nervous.
"Mummy is actually better connected than Mycroft."
It was said with a worryingly absent tone, which usually meant Sherlock was planning something. John ignored the implications of what had been said.
"I'm not a badge of honour, Sherlock," he did his best to explain his point of view. "I'm not sleeping with you so you can get one up on Mycroft."
Sherlock looked at him then, long and hard and he felt as if his soul was being examined.
"We've only been sleeping together for three days," he added awkwardly.
The silence went on.
"Very well, John," Sherlock said eventually, something completely off about his tone, "I understand. I will send a message and cancel."
John was pretty sure he should have been relieved, but he didn't feel it.
"Mummy will be disappointed; I've never had a boyfriend before and she wanted to meet you."
Everything John had been thinking shattered into a million pieces as Sherlock picked up his phone.
"Oh."
That one phrase changed everything.
"Boyfriend?"
Sherlock looked at him with those pale eyes.
"Of course, John, what did you think? If I wished to have casual sex I could quite easily satisfy my needs at the gay bar two streets over. As you have illustrated with your attempts at dating you are incapable of forming a relationship solely for sexual purposes. You are far too valuable to me to risk such a thing for shallow personal gratification."
John was completely speechless.
"Right," he said eventually, "yes, well ..."
The way Sherlock just waited expectantly didn't help him form thoughts properly. He was pretty sure that Sherlock had just come as close to declaring undying love as someone like Sherlock could.
"What time do we have to be there?"
The smile that graced Sherlock's face just about took his breath away.
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