[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.
[Sherlock smirks back at John's grin at his praise, more than looking forward to finding out what sort of other things John is good at apart from amateur deductive reasoning. He can feel John's awe of him as much as see it, and it picks him up every time because it was so rare that he was complimented or respected for the work he did.
He glances back to John from where he was staring out the window contemplatively, often reading into John's expression what he might say next, but he was drawing a blank at the way John was looking at him now. He's surprised, certainly, to hear all that, though he was similarly afflicted himself. Still, it was all very new to him to have someone express interest in him where it was mutual.
He gives a sly smile and leans in a bit, falling all too easily into flirting in return, though John was the only one where it was genuine.]
I think your priorities are exactly where they ought to be. And you know, it'll be a good ten more minutes before we're anywhere near the crime scene. If you're so inclined to act on your urges- [He has a hungry look about him as he says that word.] -I certainly wouldn't protest.
[ John has witnessed Sherlock flirting with other people before, of course, but it was never truly genuine. It was always just to manipulate someone get what he wanted. It bothered the doctor sometimes - especially in Molly's case, because he had become fond of the young woman... but he certainly didn't mind now. Some part of him realized his flatmate was doing this to get what he wanted, but that was alright with him, because he wanted it just as much. Having that man flirt with him so casually, and flash that sly smile really was John's undoing.
No, actually, it was probably the way his voice caressed the word 'urges' and his expression was so eagerly hungry. John smirked lightly, his heart pounding in his chest once again. ]
You are going to be more trouble for me than usual, you know.
[ Not that he minded the trouble, of course. That amused response was all he could manage, because the urge was relentless and he was powerless but to give in. Leaning in to close that small distance, he shifted towards Sherlock, and wrapped his free hand around the back of Sherlock's neck to pull him in for another kiss. His other hand released the detective's to instead slip inside his coat and curl around his slender waist. He was somewhat aware the cabbie could see - and hear - them, and it was a bit embarrassing yes... but he was quickly becoming lost to passionate snogging once again. In that moment, nothing else really mattered. ]
[John was the only person where he would actually make good on his flirting, and he found he rather liked knowing that the back and forth would end in actual snogging this time. And yes, maybe he really enjoyed the way John looked at him when he turned on his rarely used charm.]
I suppose it's good for both of us that you love trouble, then. [His voice is low in his eagerness, too ready for John to eliminate the distance between them, just like that. He shifts closer too, resting a hand on John's side to loosely grab at his coat. His other hand rests on his chest, just over his heart to study how the tempo changed during this activity. He's pressed up just perfectly against John's side like this, tilting his head to press the kiss a bit deeper and enjoy these few minutes before they'd be forced to part yet again.
The cab driver -and the rest of London, for that matter- didn't even exist for all he cared at the moment. It could all blink out of existence and he wouldn't care, so long as he could keep snogging John. Propriety certainly wasn't very high on his list of cares at the moment, made obvious by how he's sucking on John's bottom lip before pressing his tongue against his lips to beg entrance into his mouth. Not exactly standard decorum for cab rides, but Sherlock was never one to care much about etiquette, especially when he's enjoying himself so much.]
[ John didn't mean to be verbal, but he couldn't help the quiet mixture between a moan and a slight whimper that escaped his lips, muffled when Sherlock sucked on his lower lip like that. He was only all too willing to part his lips and allow that tongue to slip deliciously into his mouth. Their tongues met in a slow sort of tangle, causing him to lean into the kiss that much more. For someone who may not be well-practiced in the art of snogging, the consulting detective is doing a very fine job. Not that John should be surprised, of course - Sherlock doesn't do anything unless he can do it well.
Meanwhile, he's enjoying sucking on his flatmate's tongue, his hand on that waist slowly roaming down to rest upon his thigh. That almost devious hand squeezes Sherlock's thigh gently. The other hand is still wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling in that unruly, dark hair. Oh yes, the cabbie is certainly getting a show tonight. Although John will probably be a bit embarrassed as soon as they get there, right now, he's not terribly concerned. Instead, he breaks the kiss only to graze his teeth lightly upon Sherlock's lower lip, then press tender kisses along his jawline... only to return eagerly to capture his lips once again. ]
[Sherlock smirks against his lips when John moans like that, all too excited about how easily he elicited that reaction. He feels John lean into him and is all too happy to tug him closer. It's true that he's not used to this, but it makes him all the more invested so he can get good at it quickly. Based on how John's reacting, he's thinking he's coming along quite well indeed.
He gives a soft groan at the way John sucks on his tongue and squeezes his thigh, pressing closer to really attack his mouth. His hands fist into John's coat, hugging him close as John kisses over his jawline. God, he really wished they didn't have a case now, because he was getting far too aroused by all this. He's almost trying to pull himself into John's lap to get closer, meeting the kiss enthusiastically.]
[ Good Lord, John can't remember the last time he felt this driven by his hormones. He might as well have been a teenager all over again, it was completely, utterly ridiculous... and yet, he was loving every lustful second of it. He just giving into his desires with little restraint, his quiet moan muffled against the furious tangle of lips. He would have happily pulled Sherlock into his lap were there more room in the back seat, but as it was, they're stuck to nearly facing each other, knees and legs touching.
It was incredibly arousing, especially seeing as how it had been some time since John had been intimate with someone. He couldn't recall how he'd gone so long without this, and he was just thinking about how much he wished they were back in the flat so he could rip that shirt off and run his mouth over every last inch of Sherlock's pale chest...
...when the sound of the cabbie loudly clearing his throat brought him back to reality. The cab had stopped. Obviously, they were there. Pulling away, his expression dazed, he slowly exhaled, looking at the other in wonder. He laughed at the ridiculousness of it all, slowly, reluctantly pulling away. ]
...hopefully that will hold us over for a bit longer. [ He joked dryly, fishing into his pocket to pay the somewhat annoyed cabbie. ]
[Sherlock was similarly afflicted in being a complete slave to his hormones. He'd never had that adolescent stage of life where one wants to have sex all the time. He'd grown up very fast, skipping straight from precocious child to a calculating adult with no stage in between, which was the stage one usually had make-out sessions with their partner in the back of a cab. It was thrilling to know that John could awaken this side of him, a side he never imagined even existed.
It was more exciting than he imagined to be in this situation, throwing himself headlong into a relationship with John just like any new case or experiment. Apart from the maddening sexual frustration, he was almost grateful that this case popped up. It heightened the anticipation, making him think of everything they'd get to do when they got home. The mystery surrounding it was just as exciting as the act itself.
He shot a glare at him when the cabbie cleared his throat, cursing him for being better at his job than he'd anticipated. He sighed and leaned back, licking his lips and enjoying the taste of John that lingered there.]
I wouldn't count on it. [He replies petulantly, having felt the urge to snog John every moment since they first started back at the flat. He whisks out of the cab, glancing out of the corner of his eye at John and hoping to disguise the hunger in his gaze before they met with the Yard.
It was made a bit easier when they finally did get to the crime scene, the intrigue of a new case enthralling him just as much as kissing John did. He exchanges a greeting with Lestrade, just enough to get gloves and get past him to have a look at the body. He glances over the body, pulling out his magnifying glass to take in every detail.]
John. [He waves him over distractedly.] Medical opinion, please. [He can feel that he's slipped up already and maybe gotten people suspicious by his words. Apparently all it took was a good snogging to make Sherlock say 'please'.]
[ Oh, John rather looked forward to letting Sherlock continue to explore this newly awakened side. It was most certainly a side he'd never seen before, and really, there was still so much they could do... the anticipation probably would have killed a lesser man, and most certainly a younger one. But, if nothing else, he likes to think he has some control over his urges and his hormones to act professionally. The cab scene had been a bit of a slip up, but it wouldn't happen again, now that they were out in public. He can't help but huff a chuckle of laughter at Sherlock's petulant reply and look, before composing himself best he could.
When he returned a small nod of greeting to Lestrade as well, he did his best to act as normal as usual. The older man did not seem to suspect anything, of course, as if he would. Still, John felt like he was walking on pens and needles, and the slightest look or even touch exchanged with his consulting detective would give him away. It didn't help that two of Sherlock's least favorite people, Donovan and Anderson, were also in attendance. John avoided speaking to them more than he needed to.
He did catch the please, and barely caught himself in time to stop a pleased smile from widening his lips too much. Damn. Got to be a bit more careful than that. Instead, he nodded, and after pulling on gloves himself, bent down over the body to get a better look. Being who he was, he wasn't repulsed by corpses, but this one was in pretty bad shape. Suffice to say, it was easier to fight down his hormones and lustful feelings for his flatmate when examining a bloody mess of what was once a human being. ]
Looks to have been dead just a bit less than twenty-four hours, perhaps?
[ Lestrade nodded, gruffly confirming that the dead woman's body had been found in the dumpster. ]
Rats got to her, then. That would explain the, um, bite marks. [ John frowned a bit. He wasn't to the point where he could deduce things about corpses without feeling pity for the person they had once been, and the terrible death they had faced. Even a prostitute was a person, after all. ]
Intestines removed... quite cleanly, actually. It would lead me to believe the killer has some anatomical or surgical knowledge. Clean incisions... even the cut to the throat.
[ John glanced over at Sherlock, raising his brow in silent question. ]
[It seemed like a case was Sherlock's only hope of keeping his hands to himself, being that it was the only thing to hold his interest like John did. It made him all the more determined to solve this quickly so they could get back to it.
He checks over the body exhaustively, learning that the victim had a coke habit and broke a few nails in the struggle. He nods as John speaks to confirm what he already suspected.]
Just like Jack. [He murmured, his eyes flicking over the body all the while.]
Grabbed her from behind. [There were obvious bruises on her arms from where he'd pinned them.] She struggled. [He picks up her hands, finding a bit of dried blood under her nails.] Get a sample of this. [He said, pointing out the blood to the forensic team.] It could be hers, or maybe she scratched him.
He slit her throat after a few moments and carved her up postmortem. That's his MO. [Lestrade questioned who he was talking about, and Sherlock ignored him completely.] Your next murder will be on Hanbury Street, Inspector, eight days from now. Will there be anything else? [He inquires politely, reveling in all the stunned looks he garnered, smirking a little as he glanced at John.]
[ John is, as always, fascinated as he watches Sherlock go through his process of deduction, seemingly picking things out of thin air. His looks is among those stunned, of course, although he's the only one that grins back at the detective. The others, namely Anderson and Donovan, look rather annoyed and put off. Lestrade just looks resigned, poor man. ]
Fantastic.
[ The word is out of the doctor's lips before he can stop it. Of course, praise from him is nothing new. What is a bit new, however, is the way he's admiring Sherlock with his eyes. No one seems to pick up on it, save Sally, who looks a bit suspicious. Poor John doesn't notice it.
There is a secret shared between the consulting detective and his doctor now, after all. The sooner this case is solved, the better, so they can return to doing certain other things. And God help him, but John wants to pull the taller man aside and snog the hell out of him, right there and then.
But, unfortunately, he can't. Not yet, anyway. Lestrade was questioning, and more firmly this time, just how Sherlock knows when and where the next murder will be. John flashes Sherlock a sort of helpless, apologetic look. He wants nothing more than to retreat back to their flat, as well, but truth be told... he's a bit curious, himself. ]
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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He glances back to John from where he was staring out the window contemplatively, often reading into John's expression what he might say next, but he was drawing a blank at the way John was looking at him now. He's surprised, certainly, to hear all that, though he was similarly afflicted himself. Still, it was all very new to him to have someone express interest in him where it was mutual.
He gives a sly smile and leans in a bit, falling all too easily into flirting in return, though John was the only one where it was genuine.]
I think your priorities are exactly where they ought to be. And you know, it'll be a good ten more minutes before we're anywhere near the crime scene. If you're so inclined to act on your urges- [He has a hungry look about him as he says that word.] -I certainly wouldn't protest.
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No, actually, it was probably the way his voice caressed the word 'urges' and his expression was so eagerly hungry. John smirked lightly, his heart pounding in his chest once again. ]
You are going to be more trouble for me than usual, you know.
[ Not that he minded the trouble, of course. That amused response was all he could manage, because the urge was relentless and he was powerless but to give in. Leaning in to close that small distance, he shifted towards Sherlock, and wrapped his free hand around the back of Sherlock's neck to pull him in for another kiss. His other hand released the detective's to instead slip inside his coat and curl around his slender waist. He was somewhat aware the cabbie could see - and hear - them, and it was a bit embarrassing yes... but he was quickly becoming lost to passionate snogging once again. In that moment, nothing else really mattered. ]
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I suppose it's good for both of us that you love trouble, then. [His voice is low in his eagerness, too ready for John to eliminate the distance between them, just like that. He shifts closer too, resting a hand on John's side to loosely grab at his coat. His other hand rests on his chest, just over his heart to study how the tempo changed during this activity. He's pressed up just perfectly against John's side like this, tilting his head to press the kiss a bit deeper and enjoy these few minutes before they'd be forced to part yet again.
The cab driver -and the rest of London, for that matter- didn't even exist for all he cared at the moment. It could all blink out of existence and he wouldn't care, so long as he could keep snogging John. Propriety certainly wasn't very high on his list of cares at the moment, made obvious by how he's sucking on John's bottom lip before pressing his tongue against his lips to beg entrance into his mouth. Not exactly standard decorum for cab rides, but Sherlock was never one to care much about etiquette, especially when he's enjoying himself so much.]
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Meanwhile, he's enjoying sucking on his flatmate's tongue, his hand on that waist slowly roaming down to rest upon his thigh. That almost devious hand squeezes Sherlock's thigh gently. The other hand is still wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling in that unruly, dark hair. Oh yes, the cabbie is certainly getting a show tonight. Although John will probably be a bit embarrassed as soon as they get there, right now, he's not terribly concerned. Instead, he breaks the kiss only to graze his teeth lightly upon Sherlock's lower lip, then press tender kisses along his jawline... only to return eagerly to capture his lips once again. ]
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He gives a soft groan at the way John sucks on his tongue and squeezes his thigh, pressing closer to really attack his mouth. His hands fist into John's coat, hugging him close as John kisses over his jawline. God, he really wished they didn't have a case now, because he was getting far too aroused by all this. He's almost trying to pull himself into John's lap to get closer, meeting the kiss enthusiastically.]
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It was incredibly arousing, especially seeing as how it had been some time since John had been intimate with someone. He couldn't recall how he'd gone so long without this, and he was just thinking about how much he wished they were back in the flat so he could rip that shirt off and run his mouth over every last inch of Sherlock's pale chest...
...when the sound of the cabbie loudly clearing his throat brought him back to reality. The cab had stopped. Obviously, they were there. Pulling away, his expression dazed, he slowly exhaled, looking at the other in wonder. He laughed at the ridiculousness of it all, slowly, reluctantly pulling away. ]
...hopefully that will hold us over for a bit longer. [ He joked dryly, fishing into his pocket to pay the somewhat annoyed cabbie. ]
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It was more exciting than he imagined to be in this situation, throwing himself headlong into a relationship with John just like any new case or experiment. Apart from the maddening sexual frustration, he was almost grateful that this case popped up. It heightened the anticipation, making him think of everything they'd get to do when they got home. The mystery surrounding it was just as exciting as the act itself.
He shot a glare at him when the cabbie cleared his throat, cursing him for being better at his job than he'd anticipated. He sighed and leaned back, licking his lips and enjoying the taste of John that lingered there.]
I wouldn't count on it. [He replies petulantly, having felt the urge to snog John every moment since they first started back at the flat. He whisks out of the cab, glancing out of the corner of his eye at John and hoping to disguise the hunger in his gaze before they met with the Yard.
It was made a bit easier when they finally did get to the crime scene, the intrigue of a new case enthralling him just as much as kissing John did. He exchanges a greeting with Lestrade, just enough to get gloves and get past him to have a look at the body. He glances over the body, pulling out his magnifying glass to take in every detail.]
John. [He waves him over distractedly.] Medical opinion, please. [He can feel that he's slipped up already and maybe gotten people suspicious by his words. Apparently all it took was a good snogging to make Sherlock say 'please'.]
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When he returned a small nod of greeting to Lestrade as well, he did his best to act as normal as usual. The older man did not seem to suspect anything, of course, as if he would. Still, John felt like he was walking on pens and needles, and the slightest look or even touch exchanged with his consulting detective would give him away. It didn't help that two of Sherlock's least favorite people, Donovan and Anderson, were also in attendance. John avoided speaking to them more than he needed to.
He did catch the please, and barely caught himself in time to stop a pleased smile from widening his lips too much. Damn. Got to be a bit more careful than that. Instead, he nodded, and after pulling on gloves himself, bent down over the body to get a better look. Being who he was, he wasn't repulsed by corpses, but this one was in pretty bad shape. Suffice to say, it was easier to fight down his hormones and lustful feelings for his flatmate when examining a bloody mess of what was once a human being. ]
Looks to have been dead just a bit less than twenty-four hours, perhaps?
[ Lestrade nodded, gruffly confirming that the dead woman's body had been found in the dumpster. ]
Rats got to her, then. That would explain the, um, bite marks. [ John frowned a bit. He wasn't to the point where he could deduce things about corpses without feeling pity for the person they had once been, and the terrible death they had faced. Even a prostitute was a person, after all. ]
Intestines removed... quite cleanly, actually. It would lead me to believe the killer has some anatomical or surgical knowledge. Clean incisions... even the cut to the throat.
[ John glanced over at Sherlock, raising his brow in silent question. ]
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He checks over the body exhaustively, learning that the victim had a coke habit and broke a few nails in the struggle. He nods as John speaks to confirm what he already suspected.]
Just like Jack. [He murmured, his eyes flicking over the body all the while.]
Grabbed her from behind. [There were obvious bruises on her arms from where he'd pinned them.] She struggled. [He picks up her hands, finding a bit of dried blood under her nails.] Get a sample of this. [He said, pointing out the blood to the forensic team.] It could be hers, or maybe she scratched him.
He slit her throat after a few moments and carved her up postmortem. That's his MO. [Lestrade questioned who he was talking about, and Sherlock ignored him completely.] Your next murder will be on Hanbury Street, Inspector, eight days from now. Will there be anything else? [He inquires politely, reveling in all the stunned looks he garnered, smirking a little as he glanced at John.]
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Fantastic.
[ The word is out of the doctor's lips before he can stop it. Of course, praise from him is nothing new. What is a bit new, however, is the way he's admiring Sherlock with his eyes. No one seems to pick up on it, save Sally, who looks a bit suspicious. Poor John doesn't notice it.
There is a secret shared between the consulting detective and his doctor now, after all. The sooner this case is solved, the better, so they can return to doing certain other things. And God help him, but John wants to pull the taller man aside and snog the hell out of him, right there and then.
But, unfortunately, he can't. Not yet, anyway. Lestrade was questioning, and more firmly this time, just how Sherlock knows when and where the next murder will be. John flashes Sherlock a sort of helpless, apologetic look. He wants nothing more than to retreat back to their flat, as well, but truth be told... he's a bit curious, himself. ]
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