Not a problem, and yes, me too! I'd love to do another thread with you of some buildup/tension. :DshutupimageniusNovember 10 2011, 17:58:33 UTC
[Sherlock really wondered why he'd never thought of this before. It had been obvious from the moment they met that they would become inseperable. He hadn't been able to place what exactly it was that told him that, especially because John seemed so ordinary. It was clear after their first few days together that John was far from ordinary, enough to intrigue Sherlock to no end. He wanted to know everything about him, apparently even what he was like in a relationship, which had caught him completely by surprise.
It didn't feel as foreign as it actually was to do this with John, though. His body's responses were instinctual, and his mind was quiet without frenetically listing off all the ways this could go terribly wrong. He was left to just enjoy himself and all the attention John was giving him.
His hands can only grip at John's shirt as he panted softly underneath him, gazing at him through half-lidded eyes as he watched him start to unbutton his shirt. His chest is rising and falling quite quickly under John's lips, each kiss stoking that insistent heat in his stomach. The need to learn more finally got him to concentrate enough to get his own hands moving to work at opening John's shirt as well. He gently drags his hands up his abdomen when he gets his shirt open, his eyes lingering at the scar on his shoulder but not touching yet in case John had a stigma about it, asking for permission with his eyes.]
Another thread would be great! Really, I'm up for whatever. mightbebloggingNovember 10 2011, 18:50:36 UTC
[ To some extent, John doesn't completely understand what Sherlock would see in him. Sherlock is the one with the brilliant mind here, but somehow, they fit so well together. Its not something the doctor is complaining about, of course, especially now. Although he probably more the romantic sap of the two, he's not sure if he believes in things like 'soul mates.' Whatever the case, right here, right now, this is exactly where he feels like he's meant to be.
John's kisses are slow and tender against the detective's chest, as if he is a thing to be admired and worshiped. And honestly, when he pauses to look at the younger man, shirt opened and pushed back revealing his chest, he can't help but sigh quietly. With a little chuckle, he shakes his head in light disbelief, voice softly sincere. ]
You really are gorgeous, you know.
[ When he felt those long-fingered hands working on the buttons of his own shirt, he watches Sherlock's expression thoughtfully. The hands running up his chest sent more shivers through him, and he swallows hard against the way it makes his skin come alive with the sensations. He knew what the other meant when their eyes met and he saw the unspoken question in his. John can't help but feel somewhat vulnerable, with that not completely healed wound marring his shoulder in a way he didn't think was exactly 'pretty.' But he trusted Sherlock, and he wanted Sherlock, more than mere words could say. So he gave the slightest of nods, letting him know it was okay. ]
I'm open for anything too. :D We'll have to start plotting, I could go for some good case!rp.shutupimageniusNovember 10 2011, 21:50:33 UTC
[Sherlock couldn't really understand what John saw in him either. Everyone else just saw a cold, deductive machine who couldn't possibly have any real feelings behind that mask. John effortlessly saw beyond what everyone said about him to see that Sherlock was, in fact, a human being underneath all his logic and his spiny demeanor, even though Sherlock hadn't even admitted that fact to himself yet.
This was all so new to him, to be able to feel John's reverence for him in every touch. He wasn't used to being admired by any stretch, so all of this was a lot to get used to, though he certainly was getting used to it. He stares up at John when he pulled back in muted surprise at everything he was feeling, shutting his mouth and feeling silly that it had been hanging open like it was in the first place. He gives a questioning look when John chuckles, for once unable to read what John might say because John had never looked at him like this before. And then he hears the word 'gorgeous' and well...he doesn't quite know what to say to that.]
I er..thank you. [He replies, still somewhat taken aback by hearing that.] You're very good at what you're doing. [He manages dumbly in response, cursing his vernacular for always leaving him when he felt like he had so much to say to John.
He moves his focus from trying to talk to just touching some more, admiring John's strong torso with his eyes and hands.]
Your musculature is quite impressive. [He says softly, glad to finally get out the fact that he found John quite attractive as well. He gave the barest hint of a smile when John shudders slightly under the touch, elated to know that his touch could make him react like that.
He watches intently as his wordless query is registered by John, leaning up to give him a gentle kiss to reassure him a bit as his fingers wandered up to gently run over the war wound. It was a tangible symbol of John's bravery, showcasing his willingness to put his life on the line for his country. And now, for Sherlock specifically. It was a tell of just how extraordinary John was and served to remind Sherlock of all the times John threw himself headlong into danger to save him.]
Thank you. [He said again, knowing that that was probably difficult for John to do, and it meant a lot that he trusted him enough to let him see and touch it.]
WELL we could always have Lestrade call/text Sherlock, interrupting them here, or finish this first!mightbebloggingNovember 10 2011, 23:04:09 UTC
[ And now its John's turn to be abashed by the other's praise. Yes, he's quite good at praising Sherlock right and left after his brilliant deductions, but the man deserves that. The good doctor, meanwhile, is more the modest, humble type, so he's not an expert at handling praise, especially of this sort and especially from the detective. The first compliment about his 'skills' has the corners of his lips turning upward in a somewhat shy little smile. ]
Well, thanks, I'm... really glad you're liking this. [ He murmurs, watching the other and enjoying the touch, until the next compliment about his 'musculature' comes. This time, his cheeks do warm a bit, and he bits his lower lip in a now more sheepish smile. He's toned from his days as a soldier, yes, but its been a while now, and he's sure his physique has softened somewhat. So its a bit embarrassing, but also makes him feel rather good about himself, and all he can manage is a bit of a nod, glancing away from the other's vivid eyes for a moment. ]
Bit out of shape, probably. [ John breathes a quietly chuckled excuse... but any insecurities he might have had fade away when Sherlock steals his lip for that simple kiss. What nerve endings weren't deadened on his shoulder were highly sensitive, and those gentle fingers left behind fiery sparks of sensation in their wake. Yes, he would risk his own life for Sherlock's, even sacrifice himself - and he had, of course. They both had. It had just taken them a while to realize that this level of devotion and feeling for each other went far beyond flatmates and friends.
It was the 'thank you' that nearly undid John. A flood of warmth hit him and his smile widened. With a sharp inhale, he closed that distance between them again, capturing Sherlock's lips in a heated kiss, pouring out his feelings for this man into that contact. ]
Very much. [Sherlock replies, still surprised at how well he was taking to this activity he'd always assumed was unnecessary and pointless. This is certainly far from it, and he knows it's only because of John. He doesn't miss the color coming to John's face at his compliment, smiling softly at John's bashful expression.]
Not at all. I think our casework has kept you in remarkable shape. [He knows John is humble and not at all boastful, so he took it upon himself to have ego enough for the two of them. He let his head fall back against the sofa after the kiss, smirking lazily up at John and the way he lit up when Sherlock gave his thanks.
He returns the kiss enthusiastically, wrapping his arms tight around John to pull him down right against him, enjoying the feeling of being so close.
Or, he was enjoying it, until he hears his mobile go off from where it's sitting on the coffee table. He's still terribly invested in the kiss, but his eyes are wandering now to stare at the phone as it flashes to indicate a text message. He was certainly curious what it said, but he was finding it hard to tear himself away from this. He gives an indecisive hum and squirms a bit, finally breaking the kiss to heave a frustrated sigh.]
I don't know if I should hope that it's important or unimportant. [He gives John another quick peck on the lips before reaching over to grab his phone and read the message from Lestrade.]
We have a case. [He says, for once sounding conflicted about how he should feel about that fact. If only the murderer had waited just a few more hours...]
[ Somewhere in the back of his mind, John is vaguely aware there is a mobile going off. But just like in a dream, when the sound of an alarm or someone talking to you into reality makes it way into your dream, he's stubbornly trying not to let this kiss be interrupted. The way Sherlock's arms are holding him so closely and their lips are moving against each other feels much too good just to stop. He can't believe how much a grown man at his age feels like a hormone-driven teenager right now. When the man beneath him makes that decision and pulls away, John very nearly whimpers in protest. Instead, he does the much more 'manly' thing and groans in equal frustration. ]
I'm thinking 'unimportant' would be very good about now. [ John decides hopefully, a wry little smirk pulling at the corners of his lips as he props himself up just a bit on his elbows, without pulling himself away from the very comfortable position atop of Sherlock. A frown is already lining his face as he watches the other read the text, and he sighs when his fears are confirmed.]
You're joking. [ His voice is flat, but he knows enough to know Sherlock is not 'yankin his chain.' Much as they were both enjoying this, he really doubts the other would be that cruel. Not like this. Heaving a sigh this time, he falls back against his flatmate, laying his cheek briefly on his chest, nuzzled beneath Sherlock's chin. For a moment, he enjoys hearing the detective's still quickened heartbeat beneath that warm, pale skin. ]
Not that a case isn't good, of course... and Lestrade wouldn't be asking for you if he didn't really need you. So its probably something highly unusual and right up your alley. [ A beat. He's really trying to convince himself they had better go. ] Probably dangerous too...
[Sherlock for once wishes he didn't have to be called in on this one considering he was already in the middle of a very important experiment that could certainly do without being interrupted. He keeps a hand on the back of John's neck even as he grabs for the phone, not wanting him to go anywhere just yet.
He can't help but agree with John's hope that it's unimportant, though he'd still be miffed about halting this to read a pointless text message. No such luck, of course, because the text is from Lestrade about a new case. He sighs again and shakes his head when John says he's joking.
He sets aside the mobile and tries to muster the energy to get up until John lays his head on his chest like that. His hand finds his hair to stroke it softly, happy to stay like this for now.]
It would be better if it were to come about a few hours later. [It really did seem unfair that he finally experiments with physical affection only to have it interrupted. John's words were true, and it irritated him just how true they were because that would mean leaving this. He hugs John tighter against him, nuzzling his hair and appearing not to want John to get up even though he probably should.]
We'll...pick up on this later, correct? [He asks, hoping John wouldn't be discouraged from trying this again when they had the time. He really really would rather continue now, but it seemed the criminal classes had other plans.]
[ Those fingers stroking his hair, combined with the warmth of Sherlock's body and the beating of his heart all make John a very relaxed man. At least, he's on his way to becoming very relaxed. Unfortunately, what could have been a lovely day spent exploring this new facet of their relationship is marred by the very real murder case. Lestrade was waiting for them. For now, this had to end.
As those arms tighten around him and he hears the detective's words, it suddenly hits John that this is what's most important - not his job at the clinic, not even the cases themselves sometimes, but just this incredible man. He knows the detective would grow terrible bored of a 'domestic life,' but he suddenly muses that just spending a few days, or even a week inside, in bed even, with Sherlock Holmes, would not be a minute wasted. John tenderly presses his lips to Sherlock's breast, just above the previous heart he knows is there, both literally and figuratively, before raising his head to catch that gaze. ]
We absolutely will pick up on this later. [ He grinned crookedly, before leaning over to press his lips against the other man's. The kiss lasts a bit longer than he'd meant it to, but then, this is all still so very new. Its like a new addiction, and he can't help wanting more, even knowing that right now, it won't be enough. With a quiet sigh, he breaks away, looks into those vivid eyes for a heartbeat or two longer... then forces himself up and off Sherlock. Pulling his shirt back on, he starts to button it back up. ]
[It's really taking all of Sherlock's will to just get up, wanting to stay right here under John for as long as possible. He hated getting torn away from something that was going so well so far, and he wanted nothing more than to say 'sod it' and just stay here, or even relocate to one of their bedrooms. He knew he was well on his way to becoming domesticated in thanks to this, but then, their life is already pretty domestic. This really was the next logical step, because this assured that John would never be more than arm's reach away. Sherlock could certainly get used to that.
He manages a slight quirk of a smile when John kisses his chest, forgetting for just a moment that they needed to leave in favor of just enjoying stroking his hair in return. His smile widens when John assures him that they would be starting this up again later. He strokes the back of his neck and all too happily returns the kiss, glad that John let his lips linger for a few extra moments.
He sighs along with John when he pulls back, meeting John's gaze and wishing he didn't have to get up. He pushes a hand through his hair irritably, sitting up and buttoning up his own shirt as he watches longingly as John does the same, annoyed that he wouldn't be able to continue the study of his form until later.]
In the back alley of a nightclub in the Whitechapel district. [He replies, pocketing his mobile before moving to the coat rack to don his coat and scarf, wanting to get this over with so they could get back to what they were doing.]
[ Its John who is the one becoming distracted as he watches Sherlock button his own shirt back up. He's this close to letting out a disappointed sound, much akin to a whimper, as that pale, lean chest is covered once again. The shirt fits the man perfectly, of course, and he looks very good in it, but it makes it worse, knowing the lovely body that lies just beneath that taunting material. Its unfair that the shirt will get to touch his skin while John, unfortunately, cannot - certainly not while they're out in public on a case. Steeling himself up best he can, he finishes with his shirt, absently raking a hand through his short hair. ]
Nightclub. Lovely. So, what, is it a dead body, then?
[ He asks, somewhat dryly, as he shrugs his own shorter coat on, and follows after his flatmate. Just being close to him now is distracting, and they haven't even left the flat yet. The urge to just snog Sherlock is there and its strong, but he does his very best to keep it held in, even as the longing is evident in his gaze. ]
[Despite the unfortunate circumstances they find themselves in, Sherlock still found it rather amusing how they both were staring at the other as they fixed their shirts. He manages a slight smirk at the way John stares at him, unable to wait for when they could get back to what they were doing so he could keep seeing that look.
He nods.] Prostitute. Intestines removed. [He smirks a little, wondering if John had caught on to why this had caught his interest.] Sound familiar?
[He makes it to the door just fine, and it isn't until he waits by the door and glances up at John that a pang of desire hits him again. He can see his own longing reflected on John's face, and that fact more than anything makes him truly regret having to go on this case.
He needed just a bit more to have any hopes of getting through this, so he takes John's shoulders and pushes him gently but firmly up against the wall to snog him hard. It's a very good outlet for frustration, he found, pouring all the unsaid yearning into the kiss to take a bit of the edge off.
He gives a sigh of relief after he breaks the kiss, smiling at John's bewildered expression.]
That should hold me over. I hope, anyway. [He says, kissing him gentler and quicker this time before prying himself off of him so they could finally leave. He knew that urge would probably strike him a few more times throughout the evening, and he only hoped they'd be near a secluded place so he could act on it whenever it came about again.]
[ John frowns a bit, slightly puzzled and a bit alarmed by the description of the body they were meant to examine. While it did seem right up Sherlock's alley, and as a doctor, he wasn't repulsed by the idea of the body... he still would have much rather stay here and continue what they'd been doing. He was fairly certain that made him quite sane. ]
Other than being a bit unusual and right up your alley, you mean? [ His mind is still a bit clouded from those intoxicating thoughts of Sherlock's very warm body and very real lips on his own, however. He's reaching, shrugging his shoulders carelessly. ] Could it be for a black market thing...?
[ Not that he has much time to think about it, however. A surprised sound escapes his lips as the taller man pushes him against the wall, and he suddenly finds himself being snogged. Hard. A sort of pleased little moan is muffled as he melts into that kiss, returning it with equally eager fervor, his hands running desperately up Sherlock's sides. Of course, its over too quickly, and he does look quite bewildered, his cheeks a bit pink. The second kiss is much gentler, but lovely all the same, even if it is driving him a bit mad. John manages a little chuckle that's really more of a giggle, shaking his head. ]
Just don't, uhm... well, you probably shouldn't do that in front of Lestrade and the, ah, others. You know how people will talk.
[ He smirks a bit, glancing up at Sherlock with dry amusement. Its all John can do to keep his hands to himself, but he does try, fisting his hands into his pockets before leading them outside to hail a taxi. ]
[Sherlock nods, waiting eagerly to see if John had figured it out yet. He's not disappointed when he doesn't know, figuring John hadn't spent quite as much time studying serial killers as he had.]
It's possible, of course. It would be more probable if it wasn't the same area and MO of a certain, rather famous serial killer who never did end up getting caught. [He could just tell John, but he much prefers dropping hints until he figures it out himself. He's found he rather likes having a willing pupil who didn't dismiss his deductive methods as the rantings of a madman.
Thoughts of the case are put aside for a moment in favor of practically wrapping John up in his coat to push him against the wall and kiss the breath out of him. John's moan and roaming hands at his sides spur him on, deepening the kiss for a long moment before pulling back. He smiles at the way John's look changes from surprise to amusement, wanting to kiss that smile off his face, but knowing they'd never make it out of the flat if he did.]
Certainly not. We'll just have to find somewhere private the next time that urge strikes either of us. [Yes, that's a blank check for John to drag him into an empty room or abandoned alley to do whatever he pleased to him. So, you know, feel free to take advantage of that, John.
He smirks right back at John as they finally get out the door, taking his seat in the taxi and trying, like John, to keep his hands to himself. He doesn't quite succeed, glancing down at John's hand and letting his own fingers inch over to rest his own hand over it, his eyebrows raised in an 'is this alright?' expression. He would restrain himself completely when they got to the crime scene because he didn't want anyone to know about them just yet, being as they were in the very preliminary stages of this relationship of sorts. He hardly cared what the cabbie thought, though.]
[ John's cheeks warm even more in a blush after Sherlock's blatant offer to whisk him away into an alley, or a closet should the urge take over. He's suddenly feeling very much like a hormone-driven teenager, and it has him giggling again. Its all ridiculous, really, but he hasn't felt this alive - at least in the intimate sense - in quite some time. It shouldn't have been surprising, since he had only felt like he was merely existing until the consulting detective came into his life and turned it upside down. So don't you worry, Sherlock - he'll probably take advantage of you, should the opportunity present itself.
Meanwhile, he is still feeling rather flustered even after they've settled into the cab. He licks his lips absently, still able to taste Sherlock there, and remember quite vividly what it felt like to kiss him so hungrily. Still, that hand settling over his is surprising, but of course not unpleasantly so. Catching the younger man's gaze, he meets it with a slight smile. His response is to shift his hand around the others so that their fingers are laced together. The feel of those long, elegant fingers linked with his own is quite nice, really. He wants to do much more than just hold hands with him... but he, too, is afraid that once they start up again... he may be powerless to stop. So, instead, he merely strokes his thumb, making lazy patterns on the back of Sherlock's hand. He hopes its taken as a promise for future 'affections' to come. Its around then that a thought comes to him when he processes the detective's earlier words, and his brow furrows. ]
Famous serial killer... wait, you don't mean Jack the Ripper? That was ages ago - late 1800s, wasn't it? Do you think this might be some sort of copycat?
[Sherlock is really starting to be grateful for his ability to make John blush and smile like that. There is no other word for it than 'adorable', as little as he ever uses that word as a descriptor. It's certainly accurate in this case.
He watches intently for John's reaction to his hand over his, feeling his heart patter away in his chest in anticipation. He visibly brightens when John smiles again and entwines their fingers. It's something so simple, really, but it gives him a little thrill to know he could do that whenever he pleased. Part of him was excited for everyone at the Yard to find out about them, so he could hold John's hand proudly with a look that said 'look what I've got that you don't'. The way John strokes his hand is comforting when they were so unceremoniously interrupted, and Sherlock was definitely looking forward to when they could get back to it.
He watches, fascinated as the realization dawns over John's face. He's so proud of him for catching on so quickly.]
Very good. Yes, I believe so. The killer is using it to toy with us, I'm sure. Jack the Ripper was never caught, you know. This killer is trying to say that he won't be caught as well. [A smirk] He must be unfamiliar with me.
[ John would probably be both flattered and embarrassed if Sherlock ever called him 'adorable.' But his amusement at hearing the detective use such a descriptor would probably win out over his other reactions. As for holding hands for all the Yard to see someday... well, he would be more than proud to also show off his claim on Sherlock. He didn't really defend the detective with Donovan or Anderson called him a freak, or put him down, but inwardly, he really hated it. What better way to show that, yes, Sherlock was very much a human being, you're being rather ignorant and childish, and you're really missing out because I get to really know and snog this beautiful creature. So there.
Meanwhile, Sherlock's praise is so few and far in between that John can't help but be flattered. He's more the modest type, really, and its not as if he thinks he really deserves it, but its appreciated nonetheless, and it turns his smile a bit silly for a moment or two. And then, Sherlock is going on confidently about how's really already got the best of this copycat killer, so why does he even try? John watches him with that sort of awe he often has, and chuckles quietly, shaking his head with some disbelief. He glanced down at their linked hands, his voice quiet. ]
Its going to be bloody difficult keeping my hands to myself through all this when all I really want to do, right now is snog you senseless. [ John looked back up at Sherlock beneath partially lowered lids, his smirk almost sheepishly devious. ] Bad of me to say that, when there's a killer on the loose and someone murdered, isn't it? Suppose I really should get my priorities straight.
It didn't feel as foreign as it actually was to do this with John, though. His body's responses were instinctual, and his mind was quiet without frenetically listing off all the ways this could go terribly wrong. He was left to just enjoy himself and all the attention John was giving him.
His hands can only grip at John's shirt as he panted softly underneath him, gazing at him through half-lidded eyes as he watched him start to unbutton his shirt. His chest is rising and falling quite quickly under John's lips, each kiss stoking that insistent heat in his stomach. The need to learn more finally got him to concentrate enough to get his own hands moving to work at opening John's shirt as well. He gently drags his hands up his abdomen when he gets his shirt open, his eyes lingering at the scar on his shoulder but not touching yet in case John had a stigma about it, asking for permission with his eyes.]
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John's kisses are slow and tender against the detective's chest, as if he is a thing to be admired and worshiped. And honestly, when he pauses to look at the younger man, shirt opened and pushed back revealing his chest, he can't help but sigh quietly. With a little chuckle, he shakes his head in light disbelief, voice softly sincere. ]
You really are gorgeous, you know.
[ When he felt those long-fingered hands working on the buttons of his own shirt, he watches Sherlock's expression thoughtfully. The hands running up his chest sent more shivers through him, and he swallows hard against the way it makes his skin come alive with the sensations. He knew what the other meant when their eyes met and he saw the unspoken question in his. John can't help but feel somewhat vulnerable, with that not completely healed wound marring his shoulder in a way he didn't think was exactly 'pretty.' But he trusted Sherlock, and he wanted Sherlock, more than mere words could say. So he gave the slightest of nods, letting him know it was okay. ]
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This was all so new to him, to be able to feel John's reverence for him in every touch. He wasn't used to being admired by any stretch, so all of this was a lot to get used to, though he certainly was getting used to it. He stares up at John when he pulled back in muted surprise at everything he was feeling, shutting his mouth and feeling silly that it had been hanging open like it was in the first place. He gives a questioning look when John chuckles, for once unable to read what John might say because John had never looked at him like this before. And then he hears the word 'gorgeous' and well...he doesn't quite know what to say to that.]
I er..thank you. [He replies, still somewhat taken aback by hearing that.] You're very good at what you're doing. [He manages dumbly in response, cursing his vernacular for always leaving him when he felt like he had so much to say to John.
He moves his focus from trying to talk to just touching some more, admiring John's strong torso with his eyes and hands.]
Your musculature is quite impressive. [He says softly, glad to finally get out the fact that he found John quite attractive as well. He gave the barest hint of a smile when John shudders slightly under the touch, elated to know that his touch could make him react like that.
He watches intently as his wordless query is registered by John, leaning up to give him a gentle kiss to reassure him a bit as his fingers wandered up to gently run over the war wound. It was a tangible symbol of John's bravery, showcasing his willingness to put his life on the line for his country. And now, for Sherlock specifically. It was a tell of just how extraordinary John was and served to remind Sherlock of all the times John threw himself headlong into danger to save him.]
Thank you. [He said again, knowing that that was probably difficult for John to do, and it meant a lot that he trusted him enough to let him see and touch it.]
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Well, thanks, I'm... really glad you're liking this. [ He murmurs, watching the other and enjoying the touch, until the next compliment about his 'musculature' comes. This time, his cheeks do warm a bit, and he bits his lower lip in a now more sheepish smile. He's toned from his days as a soldier, yes, but its been a while now, and he's sure his physique has softened somewhat. So its a bit embarrassing, but also makes him feel rather good about himself, and all he can manage is a bit of a nod, glancing away from the other's vivid eyes for a moment. ]
Bit out of shape, probably. [ John breathes a quietly chuckled excuse... but any insecurities he might have had fade away when Sherlock steals his lip for that simple kiss. What nerve endings weren't deadened on his shoulder were highly sensitive, and those gentle fingers left behind fiery sparks of sensation in their wake. Yes, he would risk his own life for Sherlock's, even sacrifice himself - and he had, of course. They both had. It had just taken them a while to realize that this level of devotion and feeling for each other went far beyond flatmates and friends.
It was the 'thank you' that nearly undid John. A flood of warmth hit him and his smile widened. With a sharp inhale, he closed that distance between them again, capturing Sherlock's lips in a heated kiss, pouring out his feelings for this man into that contact. ]
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Not at all. I think our casework has kept you in remarkable shape. [He knows John is humble and not at all boastful, so he took it upon himself to have ego enough for the two of them. He let his head fall back against the sofa after the kiss, smirking lazily up at John and the way he lit up when Sherlock gave his thanks.
He returns the kiss enthusiastically, wrapping his arms tight around John to pull him down right against him, enjoying the feeling of being so close.
Or, he was enjoying it, until he hears his mobile go off from where it's sitting on the coffee table. He's still terribly invested in the kiss, but his eyes are wandering now to stare at the phone as it flashes to indicate a text message. He was certainly curious what it said, but he was finding it hard to tear himself away from this. He gives an indecisive hum and squirms a bit, finally breaking the kiss to heave a frustrated sigh.]
I don't know if I should hope that it's important or unimportant. [He gives John another quick peck on the lips before reaching over to grab his phone and read the message from Lestrade.]
We have a case. [He says, for once sounding conflicted about how he should feel about that fact. If only the murderer had waited just a few more hours...]
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I'm thinking 'unimportant' would be very good about now. [ John decides hopefully, a wry little smirk pulling at the corners of his lips as he props himself up just a bit on his elbows, without pulling himself away from the very comfortable position atop of Sherlock. A frown is already lining his face as he watches the other read the text, and he sighs when his fears are confirmed.]
You're joking. [ His voice is flat, but he knows enough to know Sherlock is not 'yankin his chain.' Much as they were both enjoying this, he really doubts the other would be that cruel. Not like this. Heaving a sigh this time, he falls back against his flatmate, laying his cheek briefly on his chest, nuzzled beneath Sherlock's chin. For a moment, he enjoys hearing the detective's still quickened heartbeat beneath that warm, pale skin. ]
Not that a case isn't good, of course... and Lestrade wouldn't be asking for you if he didn't really need you. So its probably something highly unusual and right up your alley. [ A beat. He's really trying to convince himself they had better go. ] Probably dangerous too...
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He can't help but agree with John's hope that it's unimportant, though he'd still be miffed about halting this to read a pointless text message. No such luck, of course, because the text is from Lestrade about a new case. He sighs again and shakes his head when John says he's joking.
He sets aside the mobile and tries to muster the energy to get up until John lays his head on his chest like that. His hand finds his hair to stroke it softly, happy to stay like this for now.]
It would be better if it were to come about a few hours later. [It really did seem unfair that he finally experiments with physical affection only to have it interrupted. John's words were true, and it irritated him just how true they were because that would mean leaving this. He hugs John tighter against him, nuzzling his hair and appearing not to want John to get up even though he probably should.]
We'll...pick up on this later, correct? [He asks, hoping John wouldn't be discouraged from trying this again when they had the time. He really really would rather continue now, but it seemed the criminal classes had other plans.]
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As those arms tighten around him and he hears the detective's words, it suddenly hits John that this is what's most important - not his job at the clinic, not even the cases themselves sometimes, but just this incredible man. He knows the detective would grow terrible bored of a 'domestic life,' but he suddenly muses that just spending a few days, or even a week inside, in bed even, with Sherlock Holmes, would not be a minute wasted. John tenderly presses his lips to Sherlock's breast, just above the previous heart he knows is there, both literally and figuratively, before raising his head to catch that gaze. ]
We absolutely will pick up on this later. [ He grinned crookedly, before leaning over to press his lips against the other man's. The kiss lasts a bit longer than he'd meant it to, but then, this is all still so very new. Its like a new addiction, and he can't help wanting more, even knowing that right now, it won't be enough. With a quiet sigh, he breaks away, looks into those vivid eyes for a heartbeat or two longer... then forces himself up and off Sherlock. Pulling his shirt back on, he starts to button it back up. ]
So... where are we meeting Lestrade?
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He manages a slight quirk of a smile when John kisses his chest, forgetting for just a moment that they needed to leave in favor of just enjoying stroking his hair in return. His smile widens when John assures him that they would be starting this up again later. He strokes the back of his neck and all too happily returns the kiss, glad that John let his lips linger for a few extra moments.
He sighs along with John when he pulls back, meeting John's gaze and wishing he didn't have to get up. He pushes a hand through his hair irritably, sitting up and buttoning up his own shirt as he watches longingly as John does the same, annoyed that he wouldn't be able to continue the study of his form until later.]
In the back alley of a nightclub in the Whitechapel district. [He replies, pocketing his mobile before moving to the coat rack to don his coat and scarf, wanting to get this over with so they could get back to what they were doing.]
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Nightclub. Lovely. So, what, is it a dead body, then?
[ He asks, somewhat dryly, as he shrugs his own shorter coat on, and follows after his flatmate. Just being close to him now is distracting, and they haven't even left the flat yet. The urge to just snog Sherlock is there and its strong, but he does his very best to keep it held in, even as the longing is evident in his gaze. ]
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He nods.] Prostitute. Intestines removed. [He smirks a little, wondering if John had caught on to why this had caught his interest.] Sound familiar?
[He makes it to the door just fine, and it isn't until he waits by the door and glances up at John that a pang of desire hits him again. He can see his own longing reflected on John's face, and that fact more than anything makes him truly regret having to go on this case.
He needed just a bit more to have any hopes of getting through this, so he takes John's shoulders and pushes him gently but firmly up against the wall to snog him hard. It's a very good outlet for frustration, he found, pouring all the unsaid yearning into the kiss to take a bit of the edge off.
He gives a sigh of relief after he breaks the kiss, smiling at John's bewildered expression.]
That should hold me over. I hope, anyway. [He says, kissing him gentler and quicker this time before prying himself off of him so they could finally leave. He knew that urge would probably strike him a few more times throughout the evening, and he only hoped they'd be near a secluded place so he could act on it whenever it came about again.]
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Other than being a bit unusual and right up your alley, you mean? [ His mind is still a bit clouded from those intoxicating thoughts of Sherlock's very warm body and very real lips on his own, however. He's reaching, shrugging his shoulders carelessly. ] Could it be for a black market thing...?
[ Not that he has much time to think about it, however. A surprised sound escapes his lips as the taller man pushes him against the wall, and he suddenly finds himself being snogged. Hard. A sort of pleased little moan is muffled as he melts into that kiss, returning it with equally eager fervor, his hands running desperately up Sherlock's sides. Of course, its over too quickly, and he does look quite bewildered, his cheeks a bit pink. The second kiss is much gentler, but lovely all the same, even if it is driving him a bit mad. John manages a little chuckle that's really more of a giggle, shaking his head. ]
Just don't, uhm... well, you probably shouldn't do that in front of Lestrade and the, ah, others. You know how people will talk.
[ He smirks a bit, glancing up at Sherlock with dry amusement. Its all John can do to keep his hands to himself, but he does try, fisting his hands into his pockets before leading them outside to hail a taxi. ]
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It's possible, of course. It would be more probable if it wasn't the same area and MO of a certain, rather famous serial killer who never did end up getting caught. [He could just tell John, but he much prefers dropping hints until he figures it out himself. He's found he rather likes having a willing pupil who didn't dismiss his deductive methods as the rantings of a madman.
Thoughts of the case are put aside for a moment in favor of practically wrapping John up in his coat to push him against the wall and kiss the breath out of him. John's moan and roaming hands at his sides spur him on, deepening the kiss for a long moment before pulling back. He smiles at the way John's look changes from surprise to amusement, wanting to kiss that smile off his face, but knowing they'd never make it out of the flat if he did.]
Certainly not. We'll just have to find somewhere private the next time that urge strikes either of us. [Yes, that's a blank check for John to drag him into an empty room or abandoned alley to do whatever he pleased to him. So, you know, feel free to take advantage of that, John.
He smirks right back at John as they finally get out the door, taking his seat in the taxi and trying, like John, to keep his hands to himself. He doesn't quite succeed, glancing down at John's hand and letting his own fingers inch over to rest his own hand over it, his eyebrows raised in an 'is this alright?' expression. He would restrain himself completely when they got to the crime scene because he didn't want anyone to know about them just yet, being as they were in the very preliminary stages of this relationship of sorts. He hardly cared what the cabbie thought, though.]
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Meanwhile, he is still feeling rather flustered even after they've settled into the cab. He licks his lips absently, still able to taste Sherlock there, and remember quite vividly what it felt like to kiss him so hungrily. Still, that hand settling over his is surprising, but of course not unpleasantly so. Catching the younger man's gaze, he meets it with a slight smile. His response is to shift his hand around the others so that their fingers are laced together. The feel of those long, elegant fingers linked with his own is quite nice, really. He wants to do much more than just hold hands with him... but he, too, is afraid that once they start up again... he may be powerless to stop. So, instead, he merely strokes his thumb, making lazy patterns on the back of Sherlock's hand. He hopes its taken as a promise for future 'affections' to come. Its around then that a thought comes to him when he processes the detective's earlier words, and his brow furrows. ]
Famous serial killer... wait, you don't mean Jack the Ripper? That was ages ago - late 1800s, wasn't it? Do you think this might be some sort of copycat?
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He watches intently for John's reaction to his hand over his, feeling his heart patter away in his chest in anticipation. He visibly brightens when John smiles again and entwines their fingers. It's something so simple, really, but it gives him a little thrill to know he could do that whenever he pleased. Part of him was excited for everyone at the Yard to find out about them, so he could hold John's hand proudly with a look that said 'look what I've got that you don't'. The way John strokes his hand is comforting when they were so unceremoniously interrupted, and Sherlock was definitely looking forward to when they could get back to it.
He watches, fascinated as the realization dawns over John's face. He's so proud of him for catching on so quickly.]
Very good. Yes, I believe so. The killer is using it to toy with us, I'm sure. Jack the Ripper was never caught, you know. This killer is trying to say that he won't be caught as well. [A smirk] He must be unfamiliar with me.
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Meanwhile, Sherlock's praise is so few and far in between that John can't help but be flattered. He's more the modest type, really, and its not as if he thinks he really deserves it, but its appreciated nonetheless, and it turns his smile a bit silly for a moment or two. And then, Sherlock is going on confidently about how's really already got the best of this copycat killer, so why does he even try? John watches him with that sort of awe he often has, and chuckles quietly, shaking his head with some disbelief. He glanced down at their linked hands, his voice quiet. ]
Its going to be bloody difficult keeping my hands to myself through all this when all I really want to do, right now is snog you senseless. [ John looked back up at Sherlock beneath partially lowered lids, his smirk almost sheepishly devious. ] Bad of me to say that, when there's a killer on the loose and someone murdered, isn't it? Suppose I really should get my priorities straight.
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