[ 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. ]
[Sherlock enjoys the stunned silence thoroughly, especially when it's finally broken by John's praise. He gives him a slight smile, holding back the desire to just whisk out of there and kiss the breath out of him as soon as he could.
He's annoyingly dragged from that train of thought when Lestrade starts asking questions. He shares that silently yearning gaze with John for just a split second before addressing their obvious questions.]
What we're dealing with here is a copycat killer of Jack the Ripper. Someone with medical training, just like Jack, based on the cuts. Jack had five canonical killings, and this is the first. The second was eight days after the first on Hanbury Street.
[He answers whatever lingering questions Lestrade has, looking fairly antsy about getting out of there. He finally gets impatient after a few moments.] If you have any more questions, you can text me. Now, though, I have a previous engagement. [He was certainly looking forward to being there to conclude the case several days later, but now he wanted to get back home and start back with their experiment. It was starting to get difficult not to reach out for John's hand or just haul off and kiss him.] Come along, John.
[ Lestrade still looks rather surprised, and with good reason. Sherlock had solved a case in record time, and apparently had another 'engagement' to attend to. Of course, they had no idea said engagement involved his flatmate, much snogging, and most likely the removal of articles of clothing. That thought alone made John's insides do flips of anticipation. He swallowed hard, pretending calm and casual as was the norm, and merely nodded to Lestrade. He noted Donovan still looked wary, but he ignored it. ]
Have a good evening, then.
[ With that, he ducked his head a bit, and resisted the urge to go racing after Sherlock and rush them into the nearest alley. He had a bit more control than that, being a grown man and all, so surely he could wait until they were safely back in their flat. Honestly, he couldn't think of a time when 221B Baker Street had looked more welcome and inviting. But all the 'waiting' was really catching up to him. Once they were a safe distance from the crime scene, and he was walking at the other's side, did he finally allow a slow, amused smile. His voice was still quiet, even though they were out of the range of the police. ]
Sure they're not going to become suspicious? You, solving a case that fast and hurrying off like this?
[Sherlock didn't much care if anyone had gotten suspicious in the end. People had been saying things about the two of them since they'd met, so it didn't really matter that much, in truth. He was feeling the anticipation just like John was, so all that mattered to him right now was getting out of there.
He met John's gaze when they were far enough away from the crime scene, offering a slight smirk in return.]
I've had to hold their hands through far simpler deductions than this one. I'm not terribly worried.
[His expression turns contemplative after a moment.]
Would it be so terrible if they knew? [He asks, curious how John felt about anyone knowing. He knew it was a bit early to be saying anything about it, but he was wondering if John would be proud of being in a relationship with him or want to keep it a secret.]
[ John looked over at the taller man, studying his expression thoughtfully. Instead of answering right away, he simply slipped his hand comfortably into Sherlock's, giving it an encouraging squeeze. It didn't matter if they were far enough away from the crime scene or not. He decided he really didn't care. The soft smile and tender look on his face was for Sherlock and Sherlock alone. ]
No, Sherlock. It wouldn't be terrible at all if they knew.
[ He absently licked his lower lip, thinking for a brief moment how to explain it without offending Sherlock. Oh, he most certainly wanted this new development between them, that much should have been quite obvious by now. ]
Its still just very new, this thing we have. I don't feel like we should have to explain ourselves to anyone yet... and I'm not exactly sure a crime scene with a dead body just lying there is the best time to tell everyone. [ He paused, chuckling lightly in dry amusement. ] But you should know, next time Donovan calls you a 'freak,' I'm likely to just punch her, even if she is a woman.
[Sherlock watches John for a long moment, hips lips quirking into a slight smile when his hand finds his. He felt that strange sensation in his chest again, a sort of tingling warmth at the knowledge that John would be alright with the rest of the world knowing about them.
He gives a nod of understanding when John explains it. Sherlock really didn't care what anyone thought, but that didn't stop him from wanting to understand exactly what they were before showing anyone else.][He replies, smirking when John chuckles. His expression is decidedly approving when John's protective instinct kicks in.]
I'm sure no one will blame you for that. [He was just fine with ignoring all of her insults, but he certainly wouldn't argue if John finally tried to teach her a lesson. It was comforting to know that John was there for him in every capacity, even though he had always considered himself an independent creature.
He hailed them a cab with his free hand, refusing to let go of John. His impatience was almost tangible, and it was only John's hand in his that kept him from ranting and raving about why they weren't home yet.]
Probably wouldn't look good on my record, going around punching police officers like that, though.
[ John wouldn't have blamed Sherlock for ranting and raving. He's rather impatient himself, although he's a bit less likely to show off said impatience. As it is, it seems to take too long for a cab to finally stop, even if it was probably only a minute or two. Once it does, he almost stubbornly does not release the younger man's hand, crawling into the back seat behind him. After the cabbie is informed of their destination, he finally settles back, forcing himself to let out a slow breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Glancing at Sherlock, he smiles crookedly, almost feeling sheepish and a bit shy in his anxiety to return to their flat. As much as he wants to snog the other man right there and then, he instead controls himself, deciding instead to let the anticipation keep building. What he does do, however, is take Sherlock's hand and bring it up to his lips to kiss his knuckles gently - tenderly, while holding his gaze, and the unspoken connection between them. He holds that hand in both of his own in his lap, then, running his fingers over the other's hand, caressing, and stroking idle little patterns. Calm and content as he might appear outwardly, inwardly, John is willing the cabbie to go faster, and for there not to be any traffic. ]
[Sherlock would swear up and down that everyone and everything in London was out to make this trip back to the flat as agonizingly long as possible. He climbs into the cab, sighing irritably to himself as he calculated in his head that the very soonest they could be home was fifteen minutes, which may as well have been years for how far off it seemed.
He tapped the fingers of his free hand impatiently on his knee as they rode, only pausing when he looked at John and relaxed a bit when he saw his smile. He watched, transfixed, as John picked up his hand and kissed his fingers, smiling softly at the calming gesture. John managed to relax him quite easily, his fingers stilling as he enjoyed the attention. He leans over to rest his head against John's, counting down the minutes until they were home.
When they finally arrived, he tossed some money at the cabbie and all but dragged John up the stairs, feeling like he only took his first real breath as soon as he pressed their door closed.]
[ John relaxed against Sherlock in the cab, his smile softening even though inwardly, he was still buzzing with anticipation. He was still surprised and humbled to know this impossible, lovely, brilliant man would become so emotionally invested in an ordinary man like him, would even want him... it wasn't something he could put into words. Then again, he probably was the more romantic of the two.
Once they had arrived, he couldn't help but chuckle in amused surprise as he found himself practically dragged up the stairs and into their flat. Of course, he was just as excited that it would finally be happening, and hopefully with no further interruptions. Once they were inside, and the door was closed... did he finally just stop and take in the other man's appearance. Releasing his hand, he stepped back and paused to enjoy that brief, quiet moment, where it was just the two of them. The calm before the storm, as it were. But then, his smile broke out into a full grin, and he couldn't hold back any longer. With that, John closed the distance between them, and reaching up to take Sherlock's face in his hands, pulled him down and leaned up to kiss him. It was a slow, hungry kiss, growing in heat and passion and so very, very good. ]
[Sherlock would certainly tell John he was being ridiculous if he ever were to think that he somehow wasn't worthy of his attention. John may not be perfect, but then Sherlock didn't really believe perfection existed. He did believe that John was perfect for him, though. He made him better, and called him brilliant when others called him a freak. That alone made all the difference for someone so used to being written off and insulted at every turn just because he was a bit (read: extremely) eccentric.
He had waited far too long for this without even knowing it until now. He always hoped someone would understand him like John did, though he certainly never had expected it. He would have suggested this far sooner had he known just how much John would come to mean to him.
He relaxed a bit from the frenetic pace he used getting up to the flat once they were there, leaning against the door and watching as John watched him. He watched as John broke into a smile and felt his heart stutter in his chest when John moved to meet him. It felt like he was drawn into the kiss like some unseen force was tugging him into it. He never would have guessed that kissing John Watson would feel so natural. He pressed deeper into the kiss, hurridly shedding his coat and scarf to toss them over the couch.
Bedroom? [he asked breathily against his lips, sure that more room would benefit this endeavor quite a bit.]
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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He's annoyingly dragged from that train of thought when Lestrade starts asking questions. He shares that silently yearning gaze with John for just a split second before addressing their obvious questions.]
What we're dealing with here is a copycat killer of Jack the Ripper. Someone with medical training, just like Jack, based on the cuts. Jack had five canonical killings, and this is the first. The second was eight days after the first on Hanbury Street.
[He answers whatever lingering questions Lestrade has, looking fairly antsy about getting out of there. He finally gets impatient after a few moments.] If you have any more questions, you can text me. Now, though, I have a previous engagement. [He was certainly looking forward to being there to conclude the case several days later, but now he wanted to get back home and start back with their experiment. It was starting to get difficult not to reach out for John's hand or just haul off and kiss him.] Come along, John.
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Have a good evening, then.
[ With that, he ducked his head a bit, and resisted the urge to go racing after Sherlock and rush them into the nearest alley. He had a bit more control than that, being a grown man and all, so surely he could wait until they were safely back in their flat. Honestly, he couldn't think of a time when 221B Baker Street had looked more welcome and inviting. But all the 'waiting' was really catching up to him. Once they were a safe distance from the crime scene, and he was walking at the other's side, did he finally allow a slow, amused smile. His voice was still quiet, even though they were out of the range of the police. ]
Sure they're not going to become suspicious? You, solving a case that fast and hurrying off like this?
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He met John's gaze when they were far enough away from the crime scene, offering a slight smirk in return.]
I've had to hold their hands through far simpler deductions than this one. I'm not terribly worried.
[His expression turns contemplative after a moment.]
Would it be so terrible if they knew? [He asks, curious how John felt about anyone knowing. He knew it was a bit early to be saying anything about it, but he was wondering if John would be proud of being in a relationship with him or want to keep it a secret.]
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No, Sherlock. It wouldn't be terrible at all if they knew.
[ He absently licked his lower lip, thinking for a brief moment how to explain it without offending Sherlock. Oh, he most certainly wanted this new development between them, that much should have been quite obvious by now. ]
Its still just very new, this thing we have. I don't feel like we should have to explain ourselves to anyone yet... and I'm not exactly sure a crime scene with a dead body just lying there is the best time to tell everyone. [ He paused, chuckling lightly in dry amusement. ] But you should know, next time Donovan calls you a 'freak,' I'm likely to just punch her, even if she is a woman.
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He gives a nod of understanding when John explains it. Sherlock really didn't care what anyone thought, but that didn't stop him from wanting to understand exactly what they were before showing anyone else.][He replies, smirking when John chuckles. His expression is decidedly approving when John's protective instinct kicks in.]
I'm sure no one will blame you for that. [He was just fine with ignoring all of her insults, but he certainly wouldn't argue if John finally tried to teach her a lesson. It was comforting to know that John was there for him in every capacity, even though he had always considered himself an independent creature.
He hailed them a cab with his free hand, refusing to let go of John. His impatience was almost tangible, and it was only John's hand in his that kept him from ranting and raving about why they weren't home yet.]
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[ John wouldn't have blamed Sherlock for ranting and raving. He's rather impatient himself, although he's a bit less likely to show off said impatience. As it is, it seems to take too long for a cab to finally stop, even if it was probably only a minute or two. Once it does, he almost stubbornly does not release the younger man's hand, crawling into the back seat behind him. After the cabbie is informed of their destination, he finally settles back, forcing himself to let out a slow breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Glancing at Sherlock, he smiles crookedly, almost feeling sheepish and a bit shy in his anxiety to return to their flat. As much as he wants to snog the other man right there and then, he instead controls himself, deciding instead to let the anticipation keep building. What he does do, however, is take Sherlock's hand and bring it up to his lips to kiss his knuckles gently - tenderly, while holding his gaze, and the unspoken connection between them. He holds that hand in both of his own in his lap, then, running his fingers over the other's hand, caressing, and stroking idle little patterns. Calm and content as he might appear outwardly, inwardly, John is willing the cabbie to go faster, and for there not to be any traffic. ]
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He tapped the fingers of his free hand impatiently on his knee as they rode, only pausing when he looked at John and relaxed a bit when he saw his smile. He watched, transfixed, as John picked up his hand and kissed his fingers, smiling softly at the calming gesture. John managed to relax him quite easily, his fingers stilling as he enjoyed the attention. He leans over to rest his head against John's, counting down the minutes until they were home.
When they finally arrived, he tossed some money at the cabbie and all but dragged John up the stairs, feeling like he only took his first real breath as soon as he pressed their door closed.]
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Once they had arrived, he couldn't help but chuckle in amused surprise as he found himself practically dragged up the stairs and into their flat. Of course, he was just as excited that it would finally be happening, and hopefully with no further interruptions. Once they were inside, and the door was closed... did he finally just stop and take in the other man's appearance. Releasing his hand, he stepped back and paused to enjoy that brief, quiet moment, where it was just the two of them. The calm before the storm, as it were. But then, his smile broke out into a full grin, and he couldn't hold back any longer. With that, John closed the distance between them, and reaching up to take Sherlock's face in his hands, pulled him down and leaned up to kiss him. It was a slow, hungry kiss, growing in heat and passion and so very, very good. ]
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He had waited far too long for this without even knowing it until now. He always hoped someone would understand him like John did, though he certainly never had expected it. He would have suggested this far sooner had he known just how much John would come to mean to him.
He relaxed a bit from the frenetic pace he used getting up to the flat once they were there, leaning against the door and watching as John watched him. He watched as John broke into a smile and felt his heart stutter in his chest when John moved to meet him. It felt like he was drawn into the kiss like some unseen force was tugging him into it. He never would have guessed that kissing John Watson would feel so natural. He pressed deeper into the kiss, hurridly shedding his coat and scarf to toss them over the couch.
Bedroom? [he asked breathily against his lips, sure that more room would benefit this endeavor quite a bit.]
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