Fic Drabble: Perfect Mornings (Sherlock)
THINGS YOU NEED TO KNOW:
Rating: The usual. They did it in their sleep at night
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC). Because that's all I seem to do, also.
Word Count: I didn't keep track because it's a drabble, but I can guess about ~400-500+ words.
Summary: Unlike Greg, Sherlock had slightly different motivators for his 'perfect mornings.' Most of them involved blowing things up or not even sleeping. But mornings could be special. They just needed the right ingredients.
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, Greg Lestrade, and my Sherstrade parentlock kid Everett Holmes-Lestrade :3
Pairing: TAKE A GUESS. Sherstrade, obviously.
Notes: I own zilch! Except Everett! He's mine.
Tumblr Summary:
oh hey, sequel to this
Sherlock’s ‘perfect mornings’. A bit harder to write, this one was.
If you want this (or the other one) under a Read More, give me a holler!
(Greg)
Unlike Greg, Sherlock had slightly different motivators for his 'perfect mornings.' Most of them involved blowing things up or not even sleeping. But mornings could be special. They just needed the right ingredients.
Some mornings, Sherlock would watch Greg sleep, memorizing his features for the nth time before getting up and going outside for a drag. He tried not to smoke around Everett- it was a part of their deal the parents had made. But Everett always seemed to find Sherlock, and run to Greg to tattle-tale on him. Greg would give Sherlock a smug look before plucking the cigarette out of Sherlock's fingers to smoke the rest of it.
Some mornings, Sherlock would actually sleep- and sleep for a long time, at best. Greg always knew the best ways to make Sherlock slip away, a shag being one of them. Those were rare in itself, though, and Sherlock usually didn't care much for sex or anything of the sort. Especially with a five-year-old sleeping next door. But Sherlock liked the mornings where he could wake up on Greg's chest, always a few minutes before him, and take in those features, and especially those dark brown eyes.
He was also totally up for back rubs by this time, too. Sometimes, sleeping on chests equaled to achy backs.
Some mornings, Sherlock visited Everett's room. Everett always woke up early, and Sherlock would always (on those days) read to him a small story. Or, even, relive a tale of his bachelor days with Greg. Everett loved these stories, even if Greg didn't support of the behavior. Sometimes, Everett would ask for something dramatic, and Sherlock delievered while Greg watched from the bedroom door.
Those mornings weren't always exactly perfect, but they were close enough.
But he had achieved a perfect morning, once.
Sherlock had been sitting outside, looking up at the black sky- stars were hard to see in London, almost impossible, but a few bright ones escaped. The sun was slowly rising, and the detective was watching it, a bit mesmerized.
Someone tugged on his shirt. Sherlock turned around and gave a smile. "What are you doing out here?"
"I can't sleep."
Sherlock then pulled Everett close. "The monsters again?" In which, the reply was a simple nod. Like his father at his age, Everett fiddled with his fingers and stared at the sky. Sherlock rubbed his hair.
When the sun drifted up, Sherlock started to rattle off to Everett about the inner workings of the sun, how hydrogen and other atoms collided to give off the warmth and light the star did, and about how solar flares were a result of this and, if Earth didn't have a magnetic field, they'd all be smothered.
Everett listened, something he was rather good at, before nodding. "Alright, Daddy." His brain registered some of it- helium, hydrogen, magnets. His brain, though, would always be slower than a normal child.
Sherlock didn't know why, but he felt that the recipe for a perfect morning was a day out talking about science.
Rating: The usual. They did it in their sleep at night
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC). Because that's all I seem to do, also.
Word Count: I didn't keep track because it's a drabble, but I can guess about ~400-500+ words.
Summary: Unlike Greg, Sherlock had slightly different motivators for his 'perfect mornings.' Most of them involved blowing things up or not even sleeping. But mornings could be special. They just needed the right ingredients.
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, Greg Lestrade, and my Sherstrade parentlock kid Everett Holmes-Lestrade :3
Pairing: TAKE A GUESS. Sherstrade, obviously.
Notes: I own zilch! Except Everett! He's mine.
Tumblr Summary:
oh hey, sequel to this
Sherlock’s ‘perfect mornings’. A bit harder to write, this one was.
If you want this (or the other one) under a Read More, give me a holler!
(Greg)
Unlike Greg, Sherlock had slightly different motivators for his 'perfect mornings.' Most of them involved blowing things up or not even sleeping. But mornings could be special. They just needed the right ingredients.
Some mornings, Sherlock would watch Greg sleep, memorizing his features for the nth time before getting up and going outside for a drag. He tried not to smoke around Everett- it was a part of their deal the parents had made. But Everett always seemed to find Sherlock, and run to Greg to tattle-tale on him. Greg would give Sherlock a smug look before plucking the cigarette out of Sherlock's fingers to smoke the rest of it.
Some mornings, Sherlock would actually sleep- and sleep for a long time, at best. Greg always knew the best ways to make Sherlock slip away, a shag being one of them. Those were rare in itself, though, and Sherlock usually didn't care much for sex or anything of the sort. Especially with a five-year-old sleeping next door. But Sherlock liked the mornings where he could wake up on Greg's chest, always a few minutes before him, and take in those features, and especially those dark brown eyes.
He was also totally up for back rubs by this time, too. Sometimes, sleeping on chests equaled to achy backs.
Some mornings, Sherlock visited Everett's room. Everett always woke up early, and Sherlock would always (on those days) read to him a small story. Or, even, relive a tale of his bachelor days with Greg. Everett loved these stories, even if Greg didn't support of the behavior. Sometimes, Everett would ask for something dramatic, and Sherlock delievered while Greg watched from the bedroom door.
Those mornings weren't always exactly perfect, but they were close enough.
But he had achieved a perfect morning, once.
Sherlock had been sitting outside, looking up at the black sky- stars were hard to see in London, almost impossible, but a few bright ones escaped. The sun was slowly rising, and the detective was watching it, a bit mesmerized.
Someone tugged on his shirt. Sherlock turned around and gave a smile. "What are you doing out here?"
"I can't sleep."
Sherlock then pulled Everett close. "The monsters again?" In which, the reply was a simple nod. Like his father at his age, Everett fiddled with his fingers and stared at the sky. Sherlock rubbed his hair.
When the sun drifted up, Sherlock started to rattle off to Everett about the inner workings of the sun, how hydrogen and other atoms collided to give off the warmth and light the star did, and about how solar flares were a result of this and, if Earth didn't have a magnetic field, they'd all be smothered.
Everett listened, something he was rather good at, before nodding. "Alright, Daddy." His brain registered some of it- helium, hydrogen, magnets. His brain, though, would always be slower than a normal child.
Sherlock didn't know why, but he felt that the recipe for a perfect morning was a day out talking about science.