The sky didn't know what to doooooo
I love this story. LOVE IT. Written with Bunny, because no one makes me laugh more.
Title: The Adventures of the Unburning Heart.
Warnings: Language, adult subject matter, possibly obsessive references to fellatio.
Wordcount: approx. 3000
Summary: I really just want you to write a 5 times people wondered about Sherlock's staring at John, and one time John was staring at Sherlock.
BY BUNNY AND SKIPPY
1) Harry
In theory Harry is having lunch with her brother and Sherlock Holmes at one of Sherlock’s many networked restaurants. In practice she’s really just having lunch with John, unless the way Sherlock is devouring her brother with his eyes can be considered eating.
She can only make it through ten minutes of genial conversation before throwing down the gauntlet. "You could have just told me you liked men. It’s not like I would judge you."
"I don't like men." John recites dispassionately.
"What about this one then?" Harry gestures towards Sherlock.
"He's my flatmate. As I’ve said. Several times." John huffs.
"He's been staring at you the whole time we're here. He's not even stopping to eat."
"He's a detective, he pays attention and deduces things. This is not difficult to comprehend."
Harry eyes John. "All he appears to be deducing is how to remove your trousers and pants without you either noticing or objecting."
"Oh, shut up." John stares back.
"Yes, look, he's glancing at-! No, he's still staring at you. Doesn't that give you the creeps?"
"I don't really notice it." John admits.
Harry turns to Sherlock and all but yells, "Good luck with him."
"I suppose I should return the same to you in regards to Clara," Sherlock offers, still looking at John.
John says "WHAT? You promised me you wouldn't torment her!" very loudly as Harry replies, "I think I have to go now." She drops her napkin on her plate and quickly flees before John can get away from Sherlock.
2) Lestrade
Lestrade is watching the proceedings of his crack crime fighting unit with an exhausted sense of surrender. Everyone scurries around, examining this and investigating that. Everyone except Sherlock, who is too busy staring at John’s arse.
Sherlock has the only military doctor on earth with the balls to carry an illegal weapon to a crime scene investigation bending over to grab at random leaves on the other side of a low banister. He says it’s because of evidence. Evidence that Sherlock can't get himself because he's busy stari-deducing.
Now Lestrade may not be Sherlock brilliant, but he does know two things: what Sherlock is likely to be thinking, and what any man with that look on his face is thinking. Lestrade imagines it’s something along the lines of 'I need to stick my dick in that ass. Also the Sudanese Strangler is on 4th and Locke, better have Lestrade drag his wagon of clowns over and sort that out... I can tell from the way John walks I'd probably have the best chance of hitting his prostate riding it at a 37 degree angle...I wonder if he'd let me do some experiments just to make sure...oh what the hell is Donovan looking at me now for?’
Donovan is glaring at Sherlock with the disgust she usually saves for drug-dealing pimps. “You do realize that constitutes sexual harassment?”
Sherlock doesn’t even look away when he replies “You do realize your own uselessness is verging on criminal, don't you? And I'm fairly certain I can sexually harass my flatmate all I like whereas you'd end up serving time.”
Lestrade is saved from hearing this escalate by John, who calls to Sherlock “Can we go now? I have something sticky on my trousers."
Sherlock yells back "NO. Go look under the sofa."
Then something in Lestrade snaps, and he hears himself speaking with absolutely no control over word choice or volume - “OH BLOODY FUCKING HELL SHERLOCK WOULD YOU JUST HIT IT ALREADY I HAVE A CRIME TO SOLVE.”
There is a long, silent, heavily pregnant pause, which is only shattered when Donovan hisses, “Now look what you’ve done - you’ve broken our D.I.”
It immediately descends back into bickering, which for once Lestrade is grateful.
Of course as they leave the scene Lestrade hears Sherlock and John speaking, and all that gratitude evaporates like mist, his team puttering in the background like the proverbial gorrillas.
“Sherlock, what did Lestrade want you to 'hit'?”
Sherlock huffs like Lestrade has made fun of his occasionally savant-like ignorance of basic facts. “Nothing, he has a grave mental disease. You can tell by the way he rolls his Rs.”
Lestrade glances back at them in time to see John give Sherlock his patented awe-struck expression. “Brilliant.”
Sherlock looks smug. “Yes, some of us are.”
Lestrade decides right then and there they deserve each other.
3) Mycroft
Mycroft doesn’t have time to observe the fallout from his admittedly threatening messages to Sherlock. He’s got to deal with the Pope’s visit, something fairly difficult when he finds the hat alone to be personally offensive. He tells Anthea to give him a transcript with highlight reel instead; it’s been a long day and even he likes to slum it with low-brow comedy now and again.
It reads:
Sherlock: Shit. SHIT.
John: You just cursed twice! You hate repeating yourself! We’re going to die aren’t we?!
Sherlock: Let's go John, and could you please refrain from sounding so excited about our prospective ends.
John: What are we running from - poison gas, evil robots or ninjas?
Sherlock: When the car gets-what? You know, it's hilarious that people think you're the normal one.
John: [creepily caressing his ill-concealed gun] Well what is it then?
Sherlock: Mycroft wants to talk suits versus tuxedos.
John: For what?
Sherlock: Our wedding? Really John, do try not to embarrass me so much. I already put up with your jumpers and the random fights with inanimate machines. After we are wed, we will be discussing your sartorial decisions.
John:... I've decided to ignore 4/5 of what you just said and go with: Why does Mycroft think we're getting married?
Sherlock: Something about my staring at you being enough to legally wed us in an Amazonian tribal community, making Mummy happy, you know how it goes.
John: You stare at everything. I only get stared at so often because I’m around all the time.
Sherlock: Fascinating. How does your tiny mind work?
John: [glares] I am currently armed.
Sherlock: I wish to hear more on this subject. Speak slowly about your firearm.
John: But you've already handled it plenty of times.
Sherlock: :D
Mycroft always appreciates that Anthea knows the appropriate use of emoticons; it’s one of the biggest reasons why he keeps her around.
---
When they finally arrived they both looked suspiciously bedraggled, and Mycroft only barely refrained from rearing back in disgust. He doesn’t need to know the details of what Sherlock does with his mouth when it’s not being used to verbally attack him.
He turned to John instead. “How do you feel about color for your suit? Black tuxes are so... predictable.”
John stared at him in disbelief. “You really think we're romantically involved?”
Mycroft sighed. “Look to your left.”
John looked. Sherlock was staring.
John shrugged. “He's solving a mystery.”
Mycroft tried not to be too obviously disdainful of John’s apparent stupidity. “Of what? The best angle to make you scre-”
“-SHUT IT MYCROFT.” Sherlock ordered, eyes still stuck on John.
Mycroft decided to move on to more important matters. “Are you opposed to ascots?”
“Everyone is opposed to ascots.” John replied.
“I told you he was fine with it, Sherlock.” Mycroft quarrelled.
John was beginning to look like he’d experienced a recent head trauma. “I never said I was going to marry him! I was just answering your question.”
“He’s still staring.” Mycroft reminded him.
John held up his hands in defense and abdication. “I'm going to go sleep at Sarah's flat.”
Now Sherlock looked put out; he glared at Mycroft before turning back to John.”Now John there’s no need for threats.”
Mycroft was rapidly becoming frustrated with the lack of definitive decisions by either party; he’d had more luck brokering peace treaties between middle eastern countries. “You still have to decide on the font for the invites.”
John stared at Mycroft in disbelief. “Who would we invite? Sherlock hates everyone! Why am I talking about this?”
Sherlock interrupted,”I could be convinced to invite a select few, provided I was allowed to gloat and then possibly mount you at the reception in a show of virility.”
“OH I AM SO SLEEPING AT SARAH’S.”
Mycroft twirled his ever-present umbrella. “That’s fine, she’s agreed to be the maid of honor. Last we spoke she had a few questions about the shade of champagne her shoes should be matching.”
4) Random Strangers.
Sherlock is studying John intensely as John eats, mentally checking off his internal 'John is fine' list. It's a bit long but Sherlock can get through it in three minutes regardless, usually while preoccupied with something else.
John is focused on his food and mostly ignoring Sherlock until he hears someone at the table behind him say, "Why don't you ever look at me like that?"
"What are you on about now?"
The lady points to John and Sherlock and says, "Look at that, he looks like he doesn't see anything in the world but his boyfriend there. You've never looked at me like I was the center of your world."
"You mean I've never looked at you like I was on of them creepers peering from behind the bushes then. That's bloody off-putting, it is. I'm not like that bloke you had it on with at uni that sent you black roses and shite."
"I wasn't requesting that you stalk me, James, just that you show some simple affection."
"I'm quite sorry I don't have a Gold Medal level rapist stare for you there, dear, I'll work on it as soon as I get home."
John whips his head around, and yelps, "He does not look at me like a rapist! Just because you neglect your wife doesn't mean you need to insult my flatmate."
The man turns around and asks, "Not your fella?"
John shiftily replies, "We're not dating at all."
The man turns around to his wife, and says, "And now what then?"
The woman tosses her napkin on her plate, and storms out of the restaurant. The man looks at John and says, "Birds are crazy, mate, go on with your flatmate there."
Sherlock chooses that time to look away from John and add, "She's cheating on you with her analyst," before he says, "Is that really all you're going to eat, John?"
John bangs his head on the table and says, "I really hate you some days."
The other man leaves to pay and Sherlock focuses in on John again.
"I can still convince you to get under the table cloth here and perform fellatio."
"And I'd hate you the entire time."
"Isn't that the way all blowjobs go?" Sherlock muses.
"Didn't you just tell that couple you're not dating?" Someone ventures from another table.
"We're not dating, we got married last week." John replies. "He's still my flatmate though, isn't he?"
An older lady at another table says, "That's sweet dear, but just so you know - he does look a bit like a rapist."
John glares at her.
She tries again. "Only when he's looking at you! Which...seems to be most of the time...."
"Sherlock, are you at all offended by this?"
"Hmm, what? What? No, of course not. I stopped listening a while back and solved three crimes and a sudoku puzzle instead."
"We don't have any sudoku puzzles."
"I memorize them and then solve them when people are being boring."
"Are you ever actually looking at me when you're staring?"
"I'm always looking at you, John."
--
There are days - enough of them that John has stopped keeping track - when John wonders what convinced him it was an acceptable idea to shack up with a lunatic. Most people want their partners to stop leaving dirty pants on the floor or empty glasses on the table; John only wants Sherlock to stop leaving body parts near perishable items. This having to go out whenever he’d like something that isn’t risotto or milk is getting ridiculous. What could you possibly learn by putting a toe in the coffee grounds?
The barista is a young girl with no signs of life beyond the most basic automatic functions, so John’s not expecting it when she suddenly asks “Would you like to buy another coffee for your boyfriend?”
“What?”
She nods in Sherlock’s direction. “He just seems a little put-out, from the way he's staring.”
John closes his eyes but it doesn’t help; he can still see Sherlock staring at him. “He doesn't want any coffee.”
“Oh.” She says. Then: “So this is just a little domestic you’re having?”
John drops his cash on the counter with more energy than he’d intended and has to bend down to pick up the coins that bounce onto the floor, which means half his response is muffled. “We are not having domestics all the time, our relation-friend- it's PERFECTLY PEACEABLE.” He finishes, standing back up. He already knows Sherlock has stalked up behind him without turning around. John’s going to be paying for that impromptu show soon as they walk back into the flat.
“Why are you yelling at this woman?” Sherlock asks. “Is this like the chip and pin again? Do you think you're back in Afghanistan?”
John swivels around to announce “I HATE YOU ALL.”
Sherlock ignores him and comments to the vendor “He has flashbacks.”
The barista nods like she’s channeling Sigmund Freud and Sherlock is a saint for putting up with John’s insanity.
John eyes them both with a fairly manic expression. “You! Apologizing for my strange behavior in public! This is wrong! Just fuck off.” He takes his coffee and strides away.
“You might want to get him into therapy.” He hears her advising Sherlock sagely.
As he stalks out the door he can hear Sherlock reply “His therapist made him believe he had an injured leg. She's atrocious. Do you sell anything stronger than coffee by chance? Under the left wheel well there. I'd like some of that.”
5) Moriarty
John rolls his eyes as Moriarty rants on about crime drama or some such thing. He's stopped listening about ten minutes ago when it became clear it was simply a rant about how Sherlock wasn't paying enough attention to his nefarious deeds and how dare he! John frees his right arm, and unties himself carefully, leaving the bonds in place as a ruse.
Sherlock asks, “Are you hungry?”
“Why, have you finally decided you need to eat this week?” John asks in a bitchy tone.
Jim stomps over and exclaims, “Look at me!”
They both look at him and John says, “Do you mind? I’m trying to have a discussion with my husband here and you’re not part of it.”
Jim pauses. “Sherlock, you never told me you were gay.”
“Everyone in this room is gay.” John replies snidely. “I know you’ve gone through Sherlock’s wardrobe, you can’t possibly be serious with this shite.”
“Of course I knew, Watson, I’ve seen the Hungry Eyes routine he does with you. I was simply stating that Sherlock should have informed me of this kind of thing personally as part of our close relationship.”
“Sherlock, tell this fucking right bastard that you like men so we can all agree that his crush on you is distasteful and it will.never.happen.”
Jim narrows his eyes.
Sherlock leans back in his chair. “Are you two going to fight over me?” He looks intrigued.
“You need to stop pissing me off before I join the side of evil.”
Jim smirks at them. “I suppose we could make an arrangement...” but he is sadly cut off when Sherlock knocks him unconscious.
“I wanted to do that.” John says.
“You are mine.” Sherlock states. “There will be no deviation from this fact.”
“Should I bring the rope with me when we go back to the flat?” John asks brightly. He’s suddenly in a much better mood. He makes sure to kick Moriarty on the way out as Mycroft - who shows up without even the pretension of not having been actively spying on them - looks down at the man and says, “Really? This much trouble from him?” He pokes at Moriarty with his umbrella as John drags Sherlock out into the sunlight.
“Did that seem way too easy to you?”
“That wasn’t the real Moriarty.”
“What?” John says. He gawks at Sherlock, who says, “I was hoping you’d picked up on that. Alas.”
“Clone? Android? Evil-er Twin?”
“Simply a look alike to distract me while Moriarty organized another crime ring.”
“If you knew he wasn’t Moriarty why the hell did you come over here?”
Sherlock stares at John. “He was touching you. That’s unacceptable.”
1) John is staring at Sherlock. Well the technical term is probably more along the lines of ‘glaring a hole into his skull’, but he’s looking in Sherlock’s general direction nonetheless. If Sherlock didn’t get himself hospitalized so often John wouldn’t have to get shirty, no matter what the nurse says about his partner being fine. He’s a doctor, he knows which way is up.
But all he actually says is, "Thank you," and continues to hold Sherlock's hand because this is the one time he can get away with it.
Sherlock looks unperturbed at the attention, but then again his sense of his own specialness superseded the Queen’s. He tugs on John’s hand, like John was capable of focusing on something besides the idiot who got himself damaged and laid up. “What are you looking at?”
John grins. “I’m solving a mystery.”
Sherlock blinks hugely at him, another gift from the concussion. “Of?”
“How you survived so long without me to save your sorry arse.”
“And what have you concluded?”
“That being unconventionally attractive has several perks.”
Sherlock looks at him very seriously. “Is one of them fellatio during physical recovery?”
“You really just enjoy seeing how many places you can get me to blow you, don’t you?” John answers in mock disgust.
“Yes, I’ve been keeping a list.” Sherlock freely admits. “It’s become rather extensive.”
John smiles. “Wouldn’t want to end that streak then, I suppose.”
When John plays Doctor - he plays to win.
THE END
Title: The Adventures of the Unburning Heart.
Warnings: Language, adult subject matter, possibly obsessive references to fellatio.
Wordcount: approx. 3000
Summary: I really just want you to write a 5 times people wondered about Sherlock's staring at John, and one time John was staring at Sherlock.
BY BUNNY AND SKIPPY
1) Harry
In theory Harry is having lunch with her brother and Sherlock Holmes at one of Sherlock’s many networked restaurants. In practice she’s really just having lunch with John, unless the way Sherlock is devouring her brother with his eyes can be considered eating.
She can only make it through ten minutes of genial conversation before throwing down the gauntlet. "You could have just told me you liked men. It’s not like I would judge you."
"I don't like men." John recites dispassionately.
"What about this one then?" Harry gestures towards Sherlock.
"He's my flatmate. As I’ve said. Several times." John huffs.
"He's been staring at you the whole time we're here. He's not even stopping to eat."
"He's a detective, he pays attention and deduces things. This is not difficult to comprehend."
Harry eyes John. "All he appears to be deducing is how to remove your trousers and pants without you either noticing or objecting."
"Oh, shut up." John stares back.
"Yes, look, he's glancing at-! No, he's still staring at you. Doesn't that give you the creeps?"
"I don't really notice it." John admits.
Harry turns to Sherlock and all but yells, "Good luck with him."
"I suppose I should return the same to you in regards to Clara," Sherlock offers, still looking at John.
John says "WHAT? You promised me you wouldn't torment her!" very loudly as Harry replies, "I think I have to go now." She drops her napkin on her plate and quickly flees before John can get away from Sherlock.
2) Lestrade
Lestrade is watching the proceedings of his crack crime fighting unit with an exhausted sense of surrender. Everyone scurries around, examining this and investigating that. Everyone except Sherlock, who is too busy staring at John’s arse.
Sherlock has the only military doctor on earth with the balls to carry an illegal weapon to a crime scene investigation bending over to grab at random leaves on the other side of a low banister. He says it’s because of evidence. Evidence that Sherlock can't get himself because he's busy stari-deducing.
Now Lestrade may not be Sherlock brilliant, but he does know two things: what Sherlock is likely to be thinking, and what any man with that look on his face is thinking. Lestrade imagines it’s something along the lines of 'I need to stick my dick in that ass. Also the Sudanese Strangler is on 4th and Locke, better have Lestrade drag his wagon of clowns over and sort that out... I can tell from the way John walks I'd probably have the best chance of hitting his prostate riding it at a 37 degree angle...I wonder if he'd let me do some experiments just to make sure...oh what the hell is Donovan looking at me now for?’
Donovan is glaring at Sherlock with the disgust she usually saves for drug-dealing pimps. “You do realize that constitutes sexual harassment?”
Sherlock doesn’t even look away when he replies “You do realize your own uselessness is verging on criminal, don't you? And I'm fairly certain I can sexually harass my flatmate all I like whereas you'd end up serving time.”
Lestrade is saved from hearing this escalate by John, who calls to Sherlock “Can we go now? I have something sticky on my trousers."
Sherlock yells back "NO. Go look under the sofa."
Then something in Lestrade snaps, and he hears himself speaking with absolutely no control over word choice or volume - “OH BLOODY FUCKING HELL SHERLOCK WOULD YOU JUST HIT IT ALREADY I HAVE A CRIME TO SOLVE.”
There is a long, silent, heavily pregnant pause, which is only shattered when Donovan hisses, “Now look what you’ve done - you’ve broken our D.I.”
It immediately descends back into bickering, which for once Lestrade is grateful.
Of course as they leave the scene Lestrade hears Sherlock and John speaking, and all that gratitude evaporates like mist, his team puttering in the background like the proverbial gorrillas.
“Sherlock, what did Lestrade want you to 'hit'?”
Sherlock huffs like Lestrade has made fun of his occasionally savant-like ignorance of basic facts. “Nothing, he has a grave mental disease. You can tell by the way he rolls his Rs.”
Lestrade glances back at them in time to see John give Sherlock his patented awe-struck expression. “Brilliant.”
Sherlock looks smug. “Yes, some of us are.”
Lestrade decides right then and there they deserve each other.
3) Mycroft
Mycroft doesn’t have time to observe the fallout from his admittedly threatening messages to Sherlock. He’s got to deal with the Pope’s visit, something fairly difficult when he finds the hat alone to be personally offensive. He tells Anthea to give him a transcript with highlight reel instead; it’s been a long day and even he likes to slum it with low-brow comedy now and again.
It reads:
Sherlock: Shit. SHIT.
John: You just cursed twice! You hate repeating yourself! We’re going to die aren’t we?!
Sherlock: Let's go John, and could you please refrain from sounding so excited about our prospective ends.
John: What are we running from - poison gas, evil robots or ninjas?
Sherlock: When the car gets-what? You know, it's hilarious that people think you're the normal one.
John: [creepily caressing his ill-concealed gun] Well what is it then?
Sherlock: Mycroft wants to talk suits versus tuxedos.
John: For what?
Sherlock: Our wedding? Really John, do try not to embarrass me so much. I already put up with your jumpers and the random fights with inanimate machines. After we are wed, we will be discussing your sartorial decisions.
John:... I've decided to ignore 4/5 of what you just said and go with: Why does Mycroft think we're getting married?
Sherlock: Something about my staring at you being enough to legally wed us in an Amazonian tribal community, making Mummy happy, you know how it goes.
John: You stare at everything. I only get stared at so often because I’m around all the time.
Sherlock: Fascinating. How does your tiny mind work?
John: [glares] I am currently armed.
Sherlock: I wish to hear more on this subject. Speak slowly about your firearm.
John: But you've already handled it plenty of times.
Sherlock: :D
Mycroft always appreciates that Anthea knows the appropriate use of emoticons; it’s one of the biggest reasons why he keeps her around.
---
When they finally arrived they both looked suspiciously bedraggled, and Mycroft only barely refrained from rearing back in disgust. He doesn’t need to know the details of what Sherlock does with his mouth when it’s not being used to verbally attack him.
He turned to John instead. “How do you feel about color for your suit? Black tuxes are so... predictable.”
John stared at him in disbelief. “You really think we're romantically involved?”
Mycroft sighed. “Look to your left.”
John looked. Sherlock was staring.
John shrugged. “He's solving a mystery.”
Mycroft tried not to be too obviously disdainful of John’s apparent stupidity. “Of what? The best angle to make you scre-”
“-SHUT IT MYCROFT.” Sherlock ordered, eyes still stuck on John.
Mycroft decided to move on to more important matters. “Are you opposed to ascots?”
“Everyone is opposed to ascots.” John replied.
“I told you he was fine with it, Sherlock.” Mycroft quarrelled.
John was beginning to look like he’d experienced a recent head trauma. “I never said I was going to marry him! I was just answering your question.”
“He’s still staring.” Mycroft reminded him.
John held up his hands in defense and abdication. “I'm going to go sleep at Sarah's flat.”
Now Sherlock looked put out; he glared at Mycroft before turning back to John.”Now John there’s no need for threats.”
Mycroft was rapidly becoming frustrated with the lack of definitive decisions by either party; he’d had more luck brokering peace treaties between middle eastern countries. “You still have to decide on the font for the invites.”
John stared at Mycroft in disbelief. “Who would we invite? Sherlock hates everyone! Why am I talking about this?”
Sherlock interrupted,”I could be convinced to invite a select few, provided I was allowed to gloat and then possibly mount you at the reception in a show of virility.”
“OH I AM SO SLEEPING AT SARAH’S.”
Mycroft twirled his ever-present umbrella. “That’s fine, she’s agreed to be the maid of honor. Last we spoke she had a few questions about the shade of champagne her shoes should be matching.”
4) Random Strangers.
Sherlock is studying John intensely as John eats, mentally checking off his internal 'John is fine' list. It's a bit long but Sherlock can get through it in three minutes regardless, usually while preoccupied with something else.
John is focused on his food and mostly ignoring Sherlock until he hears someone at the table behind him say, "Why don't you ever look at me like that?"
"What are you on about now?"
The lady points to John and Sherlock and says, "Look at that, he looks like he doesn't see anything in the world but his boyfriend there. You've never looked at me like I was the center of your world."
"You mean I've never looked at you like I was on of them creepers peering from behind the bushes then. That's bloody off-putting, it is. I'm not like that bloke you had it on with at uni that sent you black roses and shite."
"I wasn't requesting that you stalk me, James, just that you show some simple affection."
"I'm quite sorry I don't have a Gold Medal level rapist stare for you there, dear, I'll work on it as soon as I get home."
John whips his head around, and yelps, "He does not look at me like a rapist! Just because you neglect your wife doesn't mean you need to insult my flatmate."
The man turns around and asks, "Not your fella?"
John shiftily replies, "We're not dating at all."
The man turns around to his wife, and says, "And now what then?"
The woman tosses her napkin on her plate, and storms out of the restaurant. The man looks at John and says, "Birds are crazy, mate, go on with your flatmate there."
Sherlock chooses that time to look away from John and add, "She's cheating on you with her analyst," before he says, "Is that really all you're going to eat, John?"
John bangs his head on the table and says, "I really hate you some days."
The other man leaves to pay and Sherlock focuses in on John again.
"I can still convince you to get under the table cloth here and perform fellatio."
"And I'd hate you the entire time."
"Isn't that the way all blowjobs go?" Sherlock muses.
"Didn't you just tell that couple you're not dating?" Someone ventures from another table.
"We're not dating, we got married last week." John replies. "He's still my flatmate though, isn't he?"
An older lady at another table says, "That's sweet dear, but just so you know - he does look a bit like a rapist."
John glares at her.
She tries again. "Only when he's looking at you! Which...seems to be most of the time...."
"Sherlock, are you at all offended by this?"
"Hmm, what? What? No, of course not. I stopped listening a while back and solved three crimes and a sudoku puzzle instead."
"We don't have any sudoku puzzles."
"I memorize them and then solve them when people are being boring."
"Are you ever actually looking at me when you're staring?"
"I'm always looking at you, John."
--
There are days - enough of them that John has stopped keeping track - when John wonders what convinced him it was an acceptable idea to shack up with a lunatic. Most people want their partners to stop leaving dirty pants on the floor or empty glasses on the table; John only wants Sherlock to stop leaving body parts near perishable items. This having to go out whenever he’d like something that isn’t risotto or milk is getting ridiculous. What could you possibly learn by putting a toe in the coffee grounds?
The barista is a young girl with no signs of life beyond the most basic automatic functions, so John’s not expecting it when she suddenly asks “Would you like to buy another coffee for your boyfriend?”
“What?”
She nods in Sherlock’s direction. “He just seems a little put-out, from the way he's staring.”
John closes his eyes but it doesn’t help; he can still see Sherlock staring at him. “He doesn't want any coffee.”
“Oh.” She says. Then: “So this is just a little domestic you’re having?”
John drops his cash on the counter with more energy than he’d intended and has to bend down to pick up the coins that bounce onto the floor, which means half his response is muffled. “We are not having domestics all the time, our relation-friend- it's PERFECTLY PEACEABLE.” He finishes, standing back up. He already knows Sherlock has stalked up behind him without turning around. John’s going to be paying for that impromptu show soon as they walk back into the flat.
“Why are you yelling at this woman?” Sherlock asks. “Is this like the chip and pin again? Do you think you're back in Afghanistan?”
John swivels around to announce “I HATE YOU ALL.”
Sherlock ignores him and comments to the vendor “He has flashbacks.”
The barista nods like she’s channeling Sigmund Freud and Sherlock is a saint for putting up with John’s insanity.
John eyes them both with a fairly manic expression. “You! Apologizing for my strange behavior in public! This is wrong! Just fuck off.” He takes his coffee and strides away.
“You might want to get him into therapy.” He hears her advising Sherlock sagely.
As he stalks out the door he can hear Sherlock reply “His therapist made him believe he had an injured leg. She's atrocious. Do you sell anything stronger than coffee by chance? Under the left wheel well there. I'd like some of that.”
5) Moriarty
John rolls his eyes as Moriarty rants on about crime drama or some such thing. He's stopped listening about ten minutes ago when it became clear it was simply a rant about how Sherlock wasn't paying enough attention to his nefarious deeds and how dare he! John frees his right arm, and unties himself carefully, leaving the bonds in place as a ruse.
Sherlock asks, “Are you hungry?”
“Why, have you finally decided you need to eat this week?” John asks in a bitchy tone.
Jim stomps over and exclaims, “Look at me!”
They both look at him and John says, “Do you mind? I’m trying to have a discussion with my husband here and you’re not part of it.”
Jim pauses. “Sherlock, you never told me you were gay.”
“Everyone in this room is gay.” John replies snidely. “I know you’ve gone through Sherlock’s wardrobe, you can’t possibly be serious with this shite.”
“Of course I knew, Watson, I’ve seen the Hungry Eyes routine he does with you. I was simply stating that Sherlock should have informed me of this kind of thing personally as part of our close relationship.”
“Sherlock, tell this fucking right bastard that you like men so we can all agree that his crush on you is distasteful and it will.never.happen.”
Jim narrows his eyes.
Sherlock leans back in his chair. “Are you two going to fight over me?” He looks intrigued.
“You need to stop pissing me off before I join the side of evil.”
Jim smirks at them. “I suppose we could make an arrangement...” but he is sadly cut off when Sherlock knocks him unconscious.
“I wanted to do that.” John says.
“You are mine.” Sherlock states. “There will be no deviation from this fact.”
“Should I bring the rope with me when we go back to the flat?” John asks brightly. He’s suddenly in a much better mood. He makes sure to kick Moriarty on the way out as Mycroft - who shows up without even the pretension of not having been actively spying on them - looks down at the man and says, “Really? This much trouble from him?” He pokes at Moriarty with his umbrella as John drags Sherlock out into the sunlight.
“Did that seem way too easy to you?”
“That wasn’t the real Moriarty.”
“What?” John says. He gawks at Sherlock, who says, “I was hoping you’d picked up on that. Alas.”
“Clone? Android? Evil-er Twin?”
“Simply a look alike to distract me while Moriarty organized another crime ring.”
“If you knew he wasn’t Moriarty why the hell did you come over here?”
Sherlock stares at John. “He was touching you. That’s unacceptable.”
1) John is staring at Sherlock. Well the technical term is probably more along the lines of ‘glaring a hole into his skull’, but he’s looking in Sherlock’s general direction nonetheless. If Sherlock didn’t get himself hospitalized so often John wouldn’t have to get shirty, no matter what the nurse says about his partner being fine. He’s a doctor, he knows which way is up.
But all he actually says is, "Thank you," and continues to hold Sherlock's hand because this is the one time he can get away with it.
Sherlock looks unperturbed at the attention, but then again his sense of his own specialness superseded the Queen’s. He tugs on John’s hand, like John was capable of focusing on something besides the idiot who got himself damaged and laid up. “What are you looking at?”
John grins. “I’m solving a mystery.”
Sherlock blinks hugely at him, another gift from the concussion. “Of?”
“How you survived so long without me to save your sorry arse.”
“And what have you concluded?”
“That being unconventionally attractive has several perks.”
Sherlock looks at him very seriously. “Is one of them fellatio during physical recovery?”
“You really just enjoy seeing how many places you can get me to blow you, don’t you?” John answers in mock disgust.
“Yes, I’ve been keeping a list.” Sherlock freely admits. “It’s become rather extensive.”
John smiles. “Wouldn’t want to end that streak then, I suppose.”
When John plays Doctor - he plays to win.
THE END