OMG, I suck...

[chickienine]

I have not been on LJ at all in forever, and I've been neglecting all my writings, and I totally suck. Why will someone not get on me for this? I was writing that Style fic, Eyeliner, CrackerJacks, and Everything in between. And then I stopped... And didn't write for forever. Became obsessed with other things. Like RDJ and Star Trek and Glee,

Comments

[alpha_hydra]

It is the only occurrence worthy of note in an otherwise dreadfully boring week, and perhaps, if it were anyone else, Sherlock would not consider it an occurrence 'worthy of note' at all. John has spilled his coffee. All over his laptop, the stack of books beside it, and the schematics of Le Louvre's security system (Sherlock has not yet bothered to explain them away to John; he suspects John thinks he might be considering breaking into the museum just to prove he can. John is very observant when he wants to be).

That he finds this interesting at all is cause for concern. However, John looks very put-upon over the fact that he has spilled his coffee, as opposed to the soggy mess he has reduced Sherlock's research into.

"You do know I expect another map of Le Louvre, of course?" Sherlock drawls, somewhat bored, over the arm of his sofa, where he is currently laying and staring up into the ceiling.

"What? Yeah, of course," John answers, still very much distracted.

Sherlock looks away from his study of the ceiling, over to where John is standing--hovering, verbiage is very crucial here, he is hovering--near the door. His eyes rove repeatedly over the mess he has made, the empty cup in his hands, and then, quickly, over to his untouched jacket, hanging innocently on the coat rack. Sherlock quirks his eyebrow.

"Preferably before next month," Sherlock adds.

"You're not serious," John says; Sherlock wonders when he stopped phrasing his incredulity as a question.

"Of course I am," he replies.

John runs his hand through the back of his hair once; the hand is trembling ever so slightly.

Ah.

"Well, I suppose you'll want to be going out then?" Sherlock says, keeping his voice resolutely bored.

"Who said anything about going out?"

"Oh please John," Sherlock answers, and without bothering to explain himself, jumps off the couch and bounds towards his room.

It takes him less than two minutes to change into something presentable, and another four to decide on which pair of shoes he'll wear tonight. Perhaps tonight, if he is less dense than usual, will be the night that John realizes they are, in fact, together.

"Ready?" Sherlock asks, wrapping his scarf around his neck while John grabs his coat for him, holding it open as Sherlock shrugs it on.

"Yeah," he answers, "Where're we going to?"

"There's an Indian place not ten minutes from here."

"Sounds great," John says with a tight grin.

John has a habit of spilling the last cup of coffee, usually someplace unassuming, like the kitchen floor or over the sink. Sherlock has noted the action often enough to deduce that John does it when he is nervous, when he wants an excuse to go out and cannot think of one. It is worthy of note because more often than not, he will extend an invitation to Sherlock at that time. Sherlock has hypotheses on it, but as of yet has found no evidence to support the most likely set.

Sherlock thinks that John may, actually, find the idea of them together quite intriguing. He needs more data before he can qualify said hypothesis, however.

This development is very worthy of note, he decides.

[chickienine]

And as always, you suck, because you've already written two more than I have, and they are all AWESOME. But I love you anyway. :P You are the Sherlock to my John. <3

[alpha_hydra]

<3