The Man in the Red Jumper
Rating: Teen
Summary: John is sent on an errand through a forest. There he runs into the big bad wolf.
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Warnings: slashiness, nudity, un-betaed
Disclaimer: Not mine, sorry.
Title: The Man in the Red Jumper
John Watson was seething. How on earth had he allowed his sister to coax him into running an errand for her? Obviously Harry was a lazy bum who didn’t feel like going out so she had put her -precious, precious- little brother on the job. When he got back, he would tell her exactly how he felt about all this. Just you wait…
Walking in the shade of the trees and listening to the sounds of the creatures living in these woods John snorted. Okay, so maybe taking a basket full of food and drink to Mrs. Hudson, who was a nice and kind lady living on the other end of the forest, really was not that bad. The weather was pleasant and John felt that exercise was good for his aching leg. Not that the pain was too unbearable or anything, but moving about was nice after weeks spent inside feeling sorry for himself.
He tugged his red jumper downwards as it had risen a bit while he walked. Humming to himself he changed the basket to his other hand, relieving the dull ache on his shoulder, as he saw a little lake glittering from behind the trees. The sun reflected of the surface making the water sparkle and John decided to take a little break. Of course, he could have kept on walking, but he thought this might be a fitting spot to sit down for a minute.
After a while John found a rock that was perfect for sitting, laid the basket down and stared at the lake. Every once in a while, small ripples distorted the calmness and John wondered what was causing them. Perhaps a little fish. Were there fish in the lake?
Suddenly something appeared from underneath the surface. It seemed to be a pair of fuzzy ears. Like those of a dog. The man sitting on the rock stood up and walked towards the water. The ears wiggled a bit and soon after a hair covered in messy hair followed them. Apparently it is just a wolf man, John thought as he saw that the hair continued all the way down the man’s back until it would form a bushy tail at his hipbone.
The left ear wiggled once into John’s direction and the other man turned around in the water. Some of the droplets clung to a pale chest that was curiously scarce of hair. John could see muscles flexing under the fair skin. For a long while they both stood still.
When the wolf spoke, John suddenly realized he had been staring at the other man’s chest for God only knows how long. “You’re wounded. You were in the war?” There was a glint of interest in those steel grey eyes of the man as he asked the question.
John was perplexed, but he could hear himself answering, “Yes, against the neighbouring country...” He gaped at the other man. How could this stranger possibly know about his shoulder? “How did you know?” He could not help sounding a bit angry. Or maybe it was resigned. He honestly could not tell.
The wolf only grinned and John could see the tip of his fang. “I can read it from your posture. You are obviously a soldier, because no one else stands that rigid when they are taking a stroll in the woods. And you hold your shoulder like it pains you, so you must have been shot there.” When John did not say anything the man took a step towards the shore and John realized that he really was naked in there.
“That was brilliant! So... Umm... You are like the big bad wolf or something? And why are you in the lake?”
The wolf stopped, but the mischievous grin was back on those pink lips. “Yes. Yes, I am the big bad wolf. And this”, he gestured at the lake, “was an experiment.” Wriggling his head the wolf man laughed as his hair flopped in the air as it dried. The sound of his laughter was unbelievably husky. It made John shiver. “An experiment?” He managed to ask with his voice deceptively steady.
“Yes. I’m trying to figure out for how long it is possible to hold one’s breath.” John stared at the wolf incredulously. “How long have you been underwater?” Sherlock looked indifferent as he said, “Oh, about an hour or so.” If possible, John looked even more disbelieving. “What about breathing?” The other man gave a deep sigh as if he found John’s questioning tiresome. “Breathing is dull.” John merely rolled his eyes.
“And a man’s freedom depends on this, actually. Or his capture. Can’t say yet.” There was a momentary pause. “And the name is Holmes. Sherlock Holmes.” As the wolf was about to step forward again, John suddenly turned his back. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Holmes. I’m John Watson.” He could feel himself blushing the while it took the wolf to walk to the shore.
“Ah, you are the man in the red jumper, then.” By now the wolf was standing right behind John. He could actually feel the warmth of the man’s skin radiating from him. John gulped. Audibly. “I’ve heard of you, you know. John Watson and his read jumper; the army doctor, who’s known to be extremely courageous and almost stupidly loyal.”
In a sudden rush of anger, John turned to face the man and poked him in the breast plate. Hard. “Say what you will, Sherlock, but you have no idea what it is like in war.” He poked Sherlock again. “People die there!” Another poke. “Good people. And you have no right...” John came to an abrupt halt, because Sherlock was grinning like a cat that got the canary, the cream and someone’s Sunday roast and staring at John like he was something to experiment on.
The flush on John’s face was back with renewed vigour as he realized that he was facing the smiling, almost a head taller, very naked Sherlock Holmes and actually poking him in the chest. As a reflex John lowered his eyes...
...and with an embarrassed gurgle his gaze shot up again.
John groaned with mortification and certainly the glint in those steel grey eyes was amusement, because nothing else could quite explain those low chuckles that Sherlock was making. He stared at something behind Sherlock’s face and his furry ears.
“I should probably be going...” Looking serious for once, Sherlock interrupted him with, “Ah, indeed. You were on your way to Mrs. Hudson’s cottage.” This time John barely gave that a second thought and continued, “Yes, so, I’ll just pick up the basket and be on my merry way.” Sherlock nodded.
John turned to go.
He managed to get one step away from Sherlock before a long nailed hand grasped his arm gently. Practically on his own volition John faced Sherlock again. Neither said a word and just stared into each other’s eyes. “Don’t go yet”, Sherlock said in a throaty murmur. After a few seconds he added, “Please, John.”
The hand that was not holding onto John’s arm came to caress his face softly. The calloused thumb touched John’s lower lip almost hesitantly. With a tiny gasp John opened his mouth. The next thing he knew Sherlock had lowered his head until their lips met. After the initial shock had passed, John’s eyes fluttered closed and his arms wound themselves around Sherlock’s slim shoulders as he returned the kiss.
Soon the wolf’s wandering hand found its way under John’s red jumper. As the freezing cold skin met with John’s pleasantly warm one, the smaller man shivered and pressed his body tighter to Sherlock’s making the taller man moan in pleasure. John answered by deepening the kiss and practically jumping on the other man’s arms. Without breaking the kiss Sherlock guided them to a conveniently placed tree not too far away from them.
As John laid his head against the chilly bark, Sherlock moved to lay small kisses on his bared neck. By now both his hands were discovering new areas of John’s sides and back underneath the warm jumper. Meanwhile John had wound his arms into Sherlock’s chocolate coloured hair and was gently rubbing one of his doggy ears. The sensation made Sherlock hum from deep in his chest and John could feel the vibrations in his own body as they were pressed tight against each other.
The kiss came to an abrupt halt as John pushed Sherlock away gently. For a while he leaned against the trunk catching his breath. He smiled at the wolf and Sherlock grinned back still breathless from the kiss too.
“I’m really sorry, but I really do have to go. It’s not too long way to Mrs. Hudson’s place from here and if I leave now, I’ll still make it home tonig...” John was - once again- interrupted by Sherlock, but this time with a quick, chaste kiss.
“If you think I’m going to let you walk all the way there alone, you are mistaken, John. Besides, Mrs. Hudson happens to be my landlady so walking with you won’t be an inconvenience.” The playful smile Sherlock gave him obviously meant that they would not be reaching Mrs. Hudson’s cottage for a while yet, but it would have been impolite to refuse such an offer.
John grabbed the basket from the ground and smirked at Sherlock. “On one condition, Sherlock.” The wolf glanced at John, who gave him a once over and laughed. “You have to wear something.”