Sherlock by Any Other Name
Title: Sherlock by Any Other Name
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Category: Romance
Rating: PG-13
Beta: verityburns. This story is for her, with all my love and admiration.
Word count: 602
Translation into Chinese available here. Thank you, Lowtension!
Summary: According to Sherlock, John is perfect in every way. Well. Except for his sense of humour, perhaps...
Author's note: Inspired by an image macro I posted on Tumblr. Take a look at it (and click the link in it) if you want to understand the fic!
Frankly, this is beyond me. John is a clever man. Relatively speaking, that is. He’s one of the cleverest men I know. Granted, I might be a little bit biased, but still. John is not an idiot. And yet here he is, next to me on the sofa, watching this utter nonsense on the telly, and he's laughing. Heartily. It's baffling. He says it's a classic. A classic of what? Stupid films with stupid titles? I narrow my eyes at the screen and, once again, try to see what John can possibly find funny. It's hopeless. And John keeps on laughing.
Well, I suppose some mysteries are meant to stay mysteries, even to me. I should go back to the experiment I left under way in the kitchen but I feel reluctant to leave John. The sound of his giggles and the way his face creases up make me feel warm and content. Which is completely irrational but there you go. Of course it would be preferable if I were the reason for his mirth but what can you do. So I stay there, pretending to work on my laptop while stealing glances at John, quietly enjoying his joy.
~~~~~~~~~~
Two days later, standing side by side in Lestrade's office, we're enduring the sermon he's giving us about my... Right, it might not have been very orthodox but I solved the case, didn't I? You can only deplore such ingratitude. Yes, there was that little incident with the painting but it was a really hideous painting and its owner should be relieved that it was burnt to ashes. I can't see why the fact that it was the work of a certain Francis Bacon would be relevant. I should put Gerald on mute but John says that putting people on mute is not polite, and he likes me to be polite with Gerald. The things I do for him! So I champ at the bit and listen to Gilbert. Well, I half listen. It goes on and on and on.
"… and I'm still the officer in charge here and surely you can't have anything to say about that and..."
Oh. I jerk my head up and interrupt him in a loud voice. "Actually I do have something to say."
Godfrey looks a bit disconcerted. "Okay, say it then."
I draw in a deep breath and utter solemnly, "Don't call me Sherly."
There's a beat of silence, then John collapses with laughter. I smile proudly. This time I am the one who's making him laugh.
Galahad couldn't look more dumbfounded, which is an expression that suits him very well. I take advantage of it to grasp John's hand and lead him, still giggling, towards the exit.
As we walk back home, John beams and looks at me as if I had said something amazing. I bask in that look. I'm used to it, given that I mostly say amazing things, but yet, it's nice. Perhaps this film isn't so awful after all if it earns me this look.
"So, Sherly..."
I glare outrage at him. This is something I must nip in the bud without delay. He chuckles and squeezes my hand.
"Did I tell you there's a sequel? You must see it. We'll watch it tonight. You're going to love it."
I stop short on the pavement and look at him with horror. He giggles, gives me a quick kiss and drags me along behind him. God. This is what you get for being in love with a man who has a ruthless heart and a liking for terrible puns.
I am doomed.
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Category: Romance
Rating: PG-13
Beta: verityburns. This story is for her, with all my love and admiration.
Word count: 602
Translation into Chinese available here. Thank you, Lowtension!
Summary: According to Sherlock, John is perfect in every way. Well. Except for his sense of humour, perhaps...
Author's note: Inspired by an image macro I posted on Tumblr. Take a look at it (and click the link in it) if you want to understand the fic!
Frankly, this is beyond me. John is a clever man. Relatively speaking, that is. He’s one of the cleverest men I know. Granted, I might be a little bit biased, but still. John is not an idiot. And yet here he is, next to me on the sofa, watching this utter nonsense on the telly, and he's laughing. Heartily. It's baffling. He says it's a classic. A classic of what? Stupid films with stupid titles? I narrow my eyes at the screen and, once again, try to see what John can possibly find funny. It's hopeless. And John keeps on laughing.
Well, I suppose some mysteries are meant to stay mysteries, even to me. I should go back to the experiment I left under way in the kitchen but I feel reluctant to leave John. The sound of his giggles and the way his face creases up make me feel warm and content. Which is completely irrational but there you go. Of course it would be preferable if I were the reason for his mirth but what can you do. So I stay there, pretending to work on my laptop while stealing glances at John, quietly enjoying his joy.
~~~~~~~~~~
Two days later, standing side by side in Lestrade's office, we're enduring the sermon he's giving us about my... Right, it might not have been very orthodox but I solved the case, didn't I? You can only deplore such ingratitude. Yes, there was that little incident with the painting but it was a really hideous painting and its owner should be relieved that it was burnt to ashes. I can't see why the fact that it was the work of a certain Francis Bacon would be relevant. I should put Gerald on mute but John says that putting people on mute is not polite, and he likes me to be polite with Gerald. The things I do for him! So I champ at the bit and listen to Gilbert. Well, I half listen. It goes on and on and on.
"… and I'm still the officer in charge here and surely you can't have anything to say about that and..."
Oh. I jerk my head up and interrupt him in a loud voice. "Actually I do have something to say."
Godfrey looks a bit disconcerted. "Okay, say it then."
I draw in a deep breath and utter solemnly, "Don't call me Sherly."
There's a beat of silence, then John collapses with laughter. I smile proudly. This time I am the one who's making him laugh.
Galahad couldn't look more dumbfounded, which is an expression that suits him very well. I take advantage of it to grasp John's hand and lead him, still giggling, towards the exit.
As we walk back home, John beams and looks at me as if I had said something amazing. I bask in that look. I'm used to it, given that I mostly say amazing things, but yet, it's nice. Perhaps this film isn't so awful after all if it earns me this look.
"So, Sherly..."
I glare outrage at him. This is something I must nip in the bud without delay. He chuckles and squeezes my hand.
"Did I tell you there's a sequel? You must see it. We'll watch it tonight. You're going to love it."
I stop short on the pavement and look at him with horror. He giggles, gives me a quick kiss and drags me along behind him. God. This is what you get for being in love with a man who has a ruthless heart and a liking for terrible puns.
I am doomed.