Fic - Ways to Say Thank You - Chapter Three
Title: Ways to Say Thank You
Author: I Don't Know What I'm Doing
Rating: NC-17
Chapters/Word count - 3 of ?/ 6,090 so far
Genre: JohnLock, Established relationship, Humor, smut
Warnings/Kinks/Content - None
Summary: A visit from John's mum prompts Sherlock do something unexpectedly nice, in a perfect Sherlock way. Just a short 2 or 3 chapter story. Rated NC-17 for next chapter
Previous Chapter (Chapter Two)
Chapter Three
John stood in the doorway looking into the wreckage of the bedroom while he considered what to do next.
Normally when Sherlock had done something profoundly stupid, John didn't put much thought at all into how to respond since he was too busy swearing uncontrollably, his temper usually getting the better of him.
But those 'its', Sherlock's precious skull on the night table and the Trivia Pursuit hanging above the bed standing out among the chaos of the room, seeing those John wasn't angry in the slightest.
Maybe he should be angry since he could easily imagine Sherlock coming up with some clever plan when he had started throwing everything into the bedroom. A plan which probably included making that little spill in the kitchen to keep John occupied before his mum arrived, that terribly shameless stunt in the hallway trying to quite literally charm the pants off him as backup to keep him from getting to the bedroom, and he just knew Sherlock planned on John cleaning up the mess in the bedroom after his mum had left.
But even knowing all of this, he wasn't angry, not a bit. No matter how idiotic and scheming Sherlock might be, he was also the obsessively observant Sherlock who had picked up on all John's worry about his mum's reaction to the state of their flat. Also he was the oddly thoughtful Sherlock who had probably decided that making the place look presentable was completely worth getting yelled at for hours because of the mess he had made of their bedroom. And most importantly he was the strangely sentimental Sherlock, the one who while destroying their bedroom in a mad flurry had paused to take gentle care of his beloved skull, his most treasured keepsake, and to skewer that Trivia Pursuit board above the bed so John couldn't forget it, a bizarre sign of affection from the even more bizarre man.
So many Sherlocks, but they were all parts of the strange man he had fallen in love with. His perfect Sherlock.
Nope, he wasn't mad at all but he still needed to figure out what to do next, because next involved thanking his strange partner for being every bit of who he was, and to say thank you in all the ways Sherlock loved, while also getting some much deserved revenge on the scheming prat. And also he needed to come up with plan that worked around his mum's eminent arrival.
His mum who would be knocking on the front door in less than ten minutes. If only he had called to tell her to meet them at the restaurant instead of the flat as soon as he'd gotten home and heard glass breaking.
And then it hit him, just the right way to get Sherlock back, to delay his mum's arrival and thank the impetuous fool exactly how he would appreciate it the most, by John pulling the perfect prank on him.
With a planned formed, John pulled the bedroom door closed and nearly jumped when he turned around. Sherlock had silently walked up to stand unnoticed directly behind him.
Sherlock, who just minutes before was playing the part of seductive vamp was now groveling Sherlock. His shoulders slumped forward, head hung low but with guilty eyes peering up while chewing nervously at his bottom lip. The just over six foot tall man, who often used every inch of his height to be intimidating and imposing, and more times than John needed to count had stood fearless in the face of danger, now looked like a penitent child ready for his scolding, waiting for John's predictable stream of cursing, swearing and ranting.
He looked so pitiful John almost didn't want to tease the bastard. Almost, if not for all the damn tricks Sherlock had just pulled.
Before Sherlock could pick up on John's plan, he needed to throw him off and the way to do that was with doing the unexpected. Cowering in front of him, John could see Sherlock was expecting his usually volley of epic swearing. So instead of the yelling and cursing, John crossed his arms over his chest and gave his groveling partner a good old 'my head hurts too much to deal with this shit right now' sigh. "You said you could explain, so start explaining."
Not losing his shit already had an effect. Unprepared for anything but shouting about what a sodding ass he was, Sherlock's mouth opened and closed a few times before he stammered, "I...w..well…I just…you…"
At the same time, his eyes danced across John's face while the detective tried desperately to read him, trying to work out why John wasn't completely losing his mind. Well that wouldn't do, John interrupted by tapping his foot loudly on the hardwood floor showing his increasing impatience. "Explain faster."
Quickly Sherlock blurted out, "You'd just been so concerned about what your mum would think of the place."
"Go on."
"I wanted to surprise you. Make it look nice for you." Sherlock paused, waiting for John's reaction.
Keeping his supposed cool was having just the right effect. Instead of attempting to study him, the schemer batted his bright eyes up at John and a weak smile played across on his lips, glimmer of hope that he might just get out of this by being adorable Sherlock.
Arms still tight across his chest, John nodded back to the closed door concealing the wreck of their bedroom and calmly said, "So this was your idea of making it look nice?"
Sherlock's smile grew, oh hopeful indeed. For good measure he softened his deep voice, practically cooing when he spoke. "I did try to straighten up properly." His eyes sparkling like sapphires from his deep blue dress shirt blinked up at John, batting his thick lashes.
Even knowing it was all an attempt to play on his emotions, Sherlock's dazzling eyes and smile were all too sweet and innocent and adorable and bloody hell, John was tempted to wrap his arms around him and smother him in kisses right then and there. Almost, but the memory was still too fresh of when the ponce had tried to distract him with that other smile, the 'if I had my way you'd have a cock up your arse when your mum showed up' smile when Sherlock had tried to keep him from their bedroom.
He also knew what was soon coming from that honeyed mouth any second now. John's foot tapped against the hardwood floor again, the sound echoed in the small hallway. "And?"
Hopeful Sherlock's eyes looked so perfectly innocent when his sweet lips spoke a perfect lie. "It was taking too long."
It was so utterly predictable John almost laughed, almost but instead he scowled, scowled and threw daggers back at Sherlock in his glare, daggers sharp enough to stab a Trivia Pursuit board into a wall. Touching on a hint of anger at seeing right through Sherlock precious little fib, John demanded, "And the real reason you decided to chuck everything into the bedroom?"
The daggers in his stare were sharp enough to dash Sherlock's hopes of getting out of this by using doey eyes, innocent smiles and lying through his teeth. He lowered his head back down, shifted about uncomfortably and muttered, "I got kinda bored with it."
Almost where he needed Sherlock to be, John snapped louder, "Christ Sherlock. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"
Sherlock's shoulders hunched further down and he seemed afraid to speak, so afraid the fearless Sherlock would be ashamed. He mumbled an answer so low John couldn't make it out even with him standing only inches away.
Bless the poor bastard because John knew just why Sherlock was afraid to answer that question, and maybe he should feel like a bit of a bastard himself for pretending he didn't but no, he didn't feel like a bastard at all, not after that perfectly predictable lie.
Sounding right on the edge of losing it, he growled, "Sherlock, answer me."
His dark curls flopped as he dropped his head further down and Sherlock hesitantly said, "Planned for that after your mum left."
"What do youNope, he didn't feel like a bastard at all. mean you planne…oh bloody hell Sherlock. That mess in the kitchen? You planned that to keep me busy, didn't you?"
Seeming to have found something interesting with his shoes, Sherlock didn't look up and only replied, "Hmm?''
"God damn it, Sherlock!"
Sherlock spoke barely above a whisper when he answered, "Maybe."
But at the same time as he spoke, Sherlock did one of the most unplanned, unintentionally adorable things John had ever seen from the normally composed man.
With his head still hanging low, not meeting John's eyes, one of Sherlock's finely polished shoes did a little pivot at the toe into the wood floor, a slight twisty turn of his foot like a shameful child caught in a lie. It was such a simple little move but it was quite honestly the most endearing thing the normally imposing, intimidating, fearless man had ever done. Sherlock has since denied it ever happened, insisting John only imagined it, but he knows what he saw and it was so damn precious fluffy bunnies could never hope to be as adorable. So bloody adorable John had to cover his mouth with a hand to keep from giggling.
It was entirely too much, all of it so darling and so pathetic. John wouldn't be able to hold his composure at this rate, he was so close to cracking up. Sherlock's defenses surely were down enough for what John had planned next.
With one last show of being on the edge of losing his shit, John sharply said, "Maybe? You maybe planned that?"
Sherlock managed to shrink further and began stammering out an answer but paused when he saw John fish out his mobile from his back pocket.
John added the final touch, taking a deep breath, letting it out measured and slow, as if trying to not let his temper get the better of him. Rubbing at his temple, John said, "Sherlock, I'm too damn tired, too damn wet and my sodding head hurts too much to deal with all this right now."
Glancing back and forth between John's face and his mobile, he could almost hear Sherlock's mind racing trying to determine what he was going to do with it.
And what he was going to do with it was hold it out to Sherlock.
"You are going to call my mum and make up some reason why she has to meet us at the restaurant while I go get cleaned up."
Nope, John still didn't feel like a bastard. It was just the right amount of revenge, forcing Sherlock to talk to his mum on the phone unprepared. Sherlock knew all too well how much Mrs. Watson loved to talk and talk and talk, but it was a fitting punishment for all the deceits his devious partner had tried on him. And he'd played Sherlock exquisitely. Not putting his clever mind to use trying to determine if John was up to something, Sherlock was now focused more on John's rising anger and just as John had hoped, his mind was reeling at what John's suggestion, well no, not a suggestion, he wasn't giving Sherlock much of a choice. Either he could either phone John's mum or be subjected to the tirade he was hoping to avoid.
Glancing back and forth between the mobile in John's outstretched hand and his face, Sherlock's eyes went wide with panic. "But John...can't you call her?"
John violently shook the mobile in front of him. "Nope, you're doing it. And when you're done you're going to clear me a path to the bloody wardrobe so I can change up."
Sherlock's voice trembled. "B...but…what do you want me to say?"
John stabbed the phone at him but his groveling partner didn't move. "Make up some excuse, I don't care what you say."
"You want me to lie...to your mum?"
It appeared he had panicked Sherlock right into being frozen in place so John reached out and grabbed one of Sherlock's hands, plopping the mobile into his palm. "Oh don't tell me the brilliant Sherlock Holmes can't think up another lie. Make something up or tell her we'll be late because you're moronic jackass, I don't care which but you're doing it."
Sherlock's hand held out the mobile as if it were a bomb about to go off. "John, I..."
"End of discussion." And at that, John turned abruptly and walked into the bathroom. He took one last look back before slamming the door closed. Sherlock, never looking less intimidating, imposing, fearless, just stared at the mobile in his hand.
With his revenge in motion, John set about thanking his perfect Sherlock while he listened to the masterful detective bumble his way through his mum's endless questions.
Next Chapter coming soon.
Author: I Don't Know What I'm Doing
Rating: NC-17
Chapters/Word count - 3 of ?/ 6,090 so far
Genre: JohnLock, Established relationship, Humor, smut
Warnings/Kinks/Content - None
Summary: A visit from John's mum prompts Sherlock do something unexpectedly nice, in a perfect Sherlock way. Just a short 2 or 3 chapter story. Rated NC-17 for next chapter
Previous Chapter (Chapter Two)
Chapter Three
John stood in the doorway looking into the wreckage of the bedroom while he considered what to do next.
Normally when Sherlock had done something profoundly stupid, John didn't put much thought at all into how to respond since he was too busy swearing uncontrollably, his temper usually getting the better of him.
But those 'its', Sherlock's precious skull on the night table and the Trivia Pursuit hanging above the bed standing out among the chaos of the room, seeing those John wasn't angry in the slightest.
Maybe he should be angry since he could easily imagine Sherlock coming up with some clever plan when he had started throwing everything into the bedroom. A plan which probably included making that little spill in the kitchen to keep John occupied before his mum arrived, that terribly shameless stunt in the hallway trying to quite literally charm the pants off him as backup to keep him from getting to the bedroom, and he just knew Sherlock planned on John cleaning up the mess in the bedroom after his mum had left.
But even knowing all of this, he wasn't angry, not a bit. No matter how idiotic and scheming Sherlock might be, he was also the obsessively observant Sherlock who had picked up on all John's worry about his mum's reaction to the state of their flat. Also he was the oddly thoughtful Sherlock who had probably decided that making the place look presentable was completely worth getting yelled at for hours because of the mess he had made of their bedroom. And most importantly he was the strangely sentimental Sherlock, the one who while destroying their bedroom in a mad flurry had paused to take gentle care of his beloved skull, his most treasured keepsake, and to skewer that Trivia Pursuit board above the bed so John couldn't forget it, a bizarre sign of affection from the even more bizarre man.
So many Sherlocks, but they were all parts of the strange man he had fallen in love with. His perfect Sherlock.
Nope, he wasn't mad at all but he still needed to figure out what to do next, because next involved thanking his strange partner for being every bit of who he was, and to say thank you in all the ways Sherlock loved, while also getting some much deserved revenge on the scheming prat. And also he needed to come up with plan that worked around his mum's eminent arrival.
His mum who would be knocking on the front door in less than ten minutes. If only he had called to tell her to meet them at the restaurant instead of the flat as soon as he'd gotten home and heard glass breaking.
And then it hit him, just the right way to get Sherlock back, to delay his mum's arrival and thank the impetuous fool exactly how he would appreciate it the most, by John pulling the perfect prank on him.
With a planned formed, John pulled the bedroom door closed and nearly jumped when he turned around. Sherlock had silently walked up to stand unnoticed directly behind him.
Sherlock, who just minutes before was playing the part of seductive vamp was now groveling Sherlock. His shoulders slumped forward, head hung low but with guilty eyes peering up while chewing nervously at his bottom lip. The just over six foot tall man, who often used every inch of his height to be intimidating and imposing, and more times than John needed to count had stood fearless in the face of danger, now looked like a penitent child ready for his scolding, waiting for John's predictable stream of cursing, swearing and ranting.
He looked so pitiful John almost didn't want to tease the bastard. Almost, if not for all the damn tricks Sherlock had just pulled.
Before Sherlock could pick up on John's plan, he needed to throw him off and the way to do that was with doing the unexpected. Cowering in front of him, John could see Sherlock was expecting his usually volley of epic swearing. So instead of the yelling and cursing, John crossed his arms over his chest and gave his groveling partner a good old 'my head hurts too much to deal with this shit right now' sigh. "You said you could explain, so start explaining."
Not losing his shit already had an effect. Unprepared for anything but shouting about what a sodding ass he was, Sherlock's mouth opened and closed a few times before he stammered, "I...w..well…I just…you…"
At the same time, his eyes danced across John's face while the detective tried desperately to read him, trying to work out why John wasn't completely losing his mind. Well that wouldn't do, John interrupted by tapping his foot loudly on the hardwood floor showing his increasing impatience. "Explain faster."
Quickly Sherlock blurted out, "You'd just been so concerned about what your mum would think of the place."
"Go on."
"I wanted to surprise you. Make it look nice for you." Sherlock paused, waiting for John's reaction.
Keeping his supposed cool was having just the right effect. Instead of attempting to study him, the schemer batted his bright eyes up at John and a weak smile played across on his lips, glimmer of hope that he might just get out of this by being adorable Sherlock.
Arms still tight across his chest, John nodded back to the closed door concealing the wreck of their bedroom and calmly said, "So this was your idea of making it look nice?"
Sherlock's smile grew, oh hopeful indeed. For good measure he softened his deep voice, practically cooing when he spoke. "I did try to straighten up properly." His eyes sparkling like sapphires from his deep blue dress shirt blinked up at John, batting his thick lashes.
Even knowing it was all an attempt to play on his emotions, Sherlock's dazzling eyes and smile were all too sweet and innocent and adorable and bloody hell, John was tempted to wrap his arms around him and smother him in kisses right then and there. Almost, but the memory was still too fresh of when the ponce had tried to distract him with that other smile, the 'if I had my way you'd have a cock up your arse when your mum showed up' smile when Sherlock had tried to keep him from their bedroom.
He also knew what was soon coming from that honeyed mouth any second now. John's foot tapped against the hardwood floor again, the sound echoed in the small hallway. "And?"
Hopeful Sherlock's eyes looked so perfectly innocent when his sweet lips spoke a perfect lie. "It was taking too long."
It was so utterly predictable John almost laughed, almost but instead he scowled, scowled and threw daggers back at Sherlock in his glare, daggers sharp enough to stab a Trivia Pursuit board into a wall. Touching on a hint of anger at seeing right through Sherlock precious little fib, John demanded, "And the real reason you decided to chuck everything into the bedroom?"
The daggers in his stare were sharp enough to dash Sherlock's hopes of getting out of this by using doey eyes, innocent smiles and lying through his teeth. He lowered his head back down, shifted about uncomfortably and muttered, "I got kinda bored with it."
Almost where he needed Sherlock to be, John snapped louder, "Christ Sherlock. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"
Sherlock's shoulders hunched further down and he seemed afraid to speak, so afraid the fearless Sherlock would be ashamed. He mumbled an answer so low John couldn't make it out even with him standing only inches away.
Bless the poor bastard because John knew just why Sherlock was afraid to answer that question, and maybe he should feel like a bit of a bastard himself for pretending he didn't but no, he didn't feel like a bastard at all, not after that perfectly predictable lie.
Sounding right on the edge of losing it, he growled, "Sherlock, answer me."
His dark curls flopped as he dropped his head further down and Sherlock hesitantly said, "Planned for that after your mum left."
"What do youNope, he didn't feel like a bastard at all. mean you planne…oh bloody hell Sherlock. That mess in the kitchen? You planned that to keep me busy, didn't you?"
Seeming to have found something interesting with his shoes, Sherlock didn't look up and only replied, "Hmm?''
"God damn it, Sherlock!"
Sherlock spoke barely above a whisper when he answered, "Maybe."
But at the same time as he spoke, Sherlock did one of the most unplanned, unintentionally adorable things John had ever seen from the normally composed man.
With his head still hanging low, not meeting John's eyes, one of Sherlock's finely polished shoes did a little pivot at the toe into the wood floor, a slight twisty turn of his foot like a shameful child caught in a lie. It was such a simple little move but it was quite honestly the most endearing thing the normally imposing, intimidating, fearless man had ever done. Sherlock has since denied it ever happened, insisting John only imagined it, but he knows what he saw and it was so damn precious fluffy bunnies could never hope to be as adorable. So bloody adorable John had to cover his mouth with a hand to keep from giggling.
It was entirely too much, all of it so darling and so pathetic. John wouldn't be able to hold his composure at this rate, he was so close to cracking up. Sherlock's defenses surely were down enough for what John had planned next.
With one last show of being on the edge of losing his shit, John sharply said, "Maybe? You maybe planned that?"
Sherlock managed to shrink further and began stammering out an answer but paused when he saw John fish out his mobile from his back pocket.
John added the final touch, taking a deep breath, letting it out measured and slow, as if trying to not let his temper get the better of him. Rubbing at his temple, John said, "Sherlock, I'm too damn tired, too damn wet and my sodding head hurts too much to deal with all this right now."
Glancing back and forth between John's face and his mobile, he could almost hear Sherlock's mind racing trying to determine what he was going to do with it.
And what he was going to do with it was hold it out to Sherlock.
"You are going to call my mum and make up some reason why she has to meet us at the restaurant while I go get cleaned up."
Nope, John still didn't feel like a bastard. It was just the right amount of revenge, forcing Sherlock to talk to his mum on the phone unprepared. Sherlock knew all too well how much Mrs. Watson loved to talk and talk and talk, but it was a fitting punishment for all the deceits his devious partner had tried on him. And he'd played Sherlock exquisitely. Not putting his clever mind to use trying to determine if John was up to something, Sherlock was now focused more on John's rising anger and just as John had hoped, his mind was reeling at what John's suggestion, well no, not a suggestion, he wasn't giving Sherlock much of a choice. Either he could either phone John's mum or be subjected to the tirade he was hoping to avoid.
Glancing back and forth between the mobile in John's outstretched hand and his face, Sherlock's eyes went wide with panic. "But John...can't you call her?"
John violently shook the mobile in front of him. "Nope, you're doing it. And when you're done you're going to clear me a path to the bloody wardrobe so I can change up."
Sherlock's voice trembled. "B...but…what do you want me to say?"
John stabbed the phone at him but his groveling partner didn't move. "Make up some excuse, I don't care what you say."
"You want me to lie...to your mum?"
It appeared he had panicked Sherlock right into being frozen in place so John reached out and grabbed one of Sherlock's hands, plopping the mobile into his palm. "Oh don't tell me the brilliant Sherlock Holmes can't think up another lie. Make something up or tell her we'll be late because you're moronic jackass, I don't care which but you're doing it."
Sherlock's hand held out the mobile as if it were a bomb about to go off. "John, I..."
"End of discussion." And at that, John turned abruptly and walked into the bathroom. He took one last look back before slamming the door closed. Sherlock, never looking less intimidating, imposing, fearless, just stared at the mobile in his hand.
With his revenge in motion, John set about thanking his perfect Sherlock while he listened to the masterful detective bumble his way through his mum's endless questions.
Next Chapter coming soon.