BBC Sherlock fic: A Ruse de Guerre
This is a 565 word Sherlock drabble for the Weekend Challenge at 1_million_words Enjoy!
It was one of those surreal moments that John knew intuitively would never have happened to him if he hadn’t met Sherlock Holmes.
They had somehow talked their way into an exclusive party-truthfully, Mycroft had their names added to the list but Sherlock refused to acknowledge that fact-and they were currently in search of the person Mostly Likely to be a Blackmailer.
The party was in the home of some Count or another, John knew they had a title but he couldn’t remember what the title was, and Sherlock decided they needed to search the bedrooms.
And of course the owner of the bedroom they choose to search first decided to come back to change into yet another bespoke suit and that’s how John found himself jumping out of a bedroom window and onto the balcony.
“Well, this is just lovely,” John whispered, shivering slightly from the cold.
Sherlock shot him a murderous look. “Keep your voice down.”
John glared right back, “Keep my voice down?! That’s rich coming from you!”
Just then the occupant of the room, one Mr. Marc Wickham, looked out the window in alarm. “I say, is anyone out there?”
Sherlock grabbed John by his arm and pulled him into the shadows of what turned out to be an isolated alcove.
Somehow, John ended up with his back against the wall, with Sherlock leaning close to him. It startled him how much he enjoyed Sherlock’s sudden proximity, but before he could get his bearing Sherlock did the unexpected.
He pressed his lips against John’s.
It wasn’t a kiss but it wasn’t not a kiss either. John made a small sound in the back of his throat and opened his mouth to Sherlock and then suddenly it was a kiss.
Sherlock’s arms came around John to pull him closer and John was so done because this? This was everything.
At first they didn’t hear the annoyed cough coming from Mr. Wickham but by the third loud clearing of the throat, John was finally forced to react.
He broke their kiss and smiled slightly at Sherlock’s whimpered protest. “Yes?” he asked as nonchalantly as he could with an aroused Sherlock pressed against him.
~~~
After security was called and John and Sherlock were soundly told off and escorted out of the mansion did they realize the enormity of what just happened between them.
As they walked back to the train station, the air practically crackled between them. John was grinning, but Sherlock wasn’t sure if it was because of the kiss or the adrenaline rush.
He just knew that he didn’t want to lose his friend over a stupid, mind-blowing gorgeous kiss.
Sherlock reached out and tentatively grabbed John’s arm, and John stopped walking and turned to fully face his friend.
Sherlock looked nervously back at his blogger, his expression uncertain and the tiniest bit scared. “John, we could forget this ever happened.”
John frowned slightly at Sherlock’s words. “I don’t think I could forget it.” He closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them again, they were filled with calm determination.
“We are most certainly not forgetting! In fact, we’re going to dinner at Angelo's to celebrate.”
Sherlock swallowed reflexively, his mouth suddenly dry. “Celebrating what?” He croaked out.
“The beginning of our new life together,” John answered, smiling softly. Sherlock’s happy grin was all the answer John needed.
It was one of those surreal moments that John knew intuitively would never have happened to him if he hadn’t met Sherlock Holmes.
They had somehow talked their way into an exclusive party-truthfully, Mycroft had their names added to the list but Sherlock refused to acknowledge that fact-and they were currently in search of the person Mostly Likely to be a Blackmailer.
The party was in the home of some Count or another, John knew they had a title but he couldn’t remember what the title was, and Sherlock decided they needed to search the bedrooms.
And of course the owner of the bedroom they choose to search first decided to come back to change into yet another bespoke suit and that’s how John found himself jumping out of a bedroom window and onto the balcony.
“Well, this is just lovely,” John whispered, shivering slightly from the cold.
Sherlock shot him a murderous look. “Keep your voice down.”
John glared right back, “Keep my voice down?! That’s rich coming from you!”
Just then the occupant of the room, one Mr. Marc Wickham, looked out the window in alarm. “I say, is anyone out there?”
Sherlock grabbed John by his arm and pulled him into the shadows of what turned out to be an isolated alcove.
Somehow, John ended up with his back against the wall, with Sherlock leaning close to him. It startled him how much he enjoyed Sherlock’s sudden proximity, but before he could get his bearing Sherlock did the unexpected.
He pressed his lips against John’s.
It wasn’t a kiss but it wasn’t not a kiss either. John made a small sound in the back of his throat and opened his mouth to Sherlock and then suddenly it was a kiss.
Sherlock’s arms came around John to pull him closer and John was so done because this? This was everything.
At first they didn’t hear the annoyed cough coming from Mr. Wickham but by the third loud clearing of the throat, John was finally forced to react.
He broke their kiss and smiled slightly at Sherlock’s whimpered protest. “Yes?” he asked as nonchalantly as he could with an aroused Sherlock pressed against him.
~~~
After security was called and John and Sherlock were soundly told off and escorted out of the mansion did they realize the enormity of what just happened between them.
As they walked back to the train station, the air practically crackled between them. John was grinning, but Sherlock wasn’t sure if it was because of the kiss or the adrenaline rush.
He just knew that he didn’t want to lose his friend over a stupid, mind-blowing gorgeous kiss.
Sherlock reached out and tentatively grabbed John’s arm, and John stopped walking and turned to fully face his friend.
Sherlock looked nervously back at his blogger, his expression uncertain and the tiniest bit scared. “John, we could forget this ever happened.”
John frowned slightly at Sherlock’s words. “I don’t think I could forget it.” He closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them again, they were filled with calm determination.
“We are most certainly not forgetting! In fact, we’re going to dinner at Angelo's to celebrate.”
Sherlock swallowed reflexively, his mouth suddenly dry. “Celebrating what?” He croaked out.
“The beginning of our new life together,” John answered, smiling softly. Sherlock’s happy grin was all the answer John needed.