Welcome! (Prompting: part i)
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This is a fic prompting meme based around the BBC series Sherlock, written by Stephen Moffat & Mark Gattis.
( Read more... )
Prompts from this post can be filled on the Overflow Post
This is a fic prompting meme based around the BBC series Sherlock, written by Stephen Moffat & Mark Gattis.
( Read more... )
"You said you didn't want anything." John frowns from the doorway.
"I didn't." The younger man's consonants are overly crisp, there's an amused lilt in his voice, and he has a faintly conspiratorial cast to his expression. From that, John deduces that the quarter-sandwich has most definitely not floated out of the window. He eats quickly, to prevent any more of it 'escaping'.
But they still have Casino Royale to watch, the last of John's five-film selection, and when he returns to the couch, his space is suddenly and miraculously free for exactly the time in which it takes him to sit down. Immediately after that, of course, he has a lap full of Sherlock Holmes again, this time turned on his side with some amount of intent.
The netbook is, amazingly, actually closed.
"You've run out of things to do, haven't you?" John can't help but ask, allowing himself a faint smile as he shifts to allow for more weight on his leg.
There's a pause. "Perhaps."
"Well the opening's quite good, so that might sustain you, but God knows what's going to happen when you hit the twenty-minute mark."
Another pause. "You're mocking me."
John busies himself with opening the last can of beer. There are more, technically, but he has a vague suspicion that he has gone through his entire week's units today. James Bond and binge drinking - it all makes him feel very oddly, quintessentially English. "Just making a mention of your attention span, is all. The minute all the characters have been introduced you'll have worked out exactly what happens in the end, and then you're going to be bored again."
"Doesn't work like that." There's that demanding little handwave again, and John passes the can down. "Films are shot for the entertainment of Mr and Mrs Public. They don't give me the detail I need. Of course those dreadful mystery things like CSI are easy, because the acting's atrocious and people can't help but give away who killed who and why, but this is a bit whimsical for even me."
He allows himself a faint smile. "That'll be why you haven't been crowing about knowing the baddie's plans all day, then."
A faint sigh, even as black-and-white Daniel Craig puts some unfortunate man through a urinal. "Go on, enjoy that one. I am, in fact, not psychic. I fully admit it."
"Oh, come on, don't give me that." John finds himself replying, nudging Sherlock lightly in the shoulder. "You just wish you were. It'd give me more to feed your ego about, for one, and we both know how much you enjoy that as it is."
"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about." It sounds far too innocent to actually be true.
"So when you get all puffed-up and smug when I mention how brilliant your latest conclusion is, it's what? Some sort of allergic reaction to compliments?"
Sherlock rolls onto his back, looking up, and John can't help but meet his gaze despite the tense on-screen conversation. He looks rather delighted. "Not smug, surely?"
"Completely and thoroughly." John replies, grinning. "Now watch. I was telling you about these."
"Ugh, not more silhouetted naked women and fire everywhere and - " The detective turns his head, stopping mid-sentence at the opening graphics. "Ooh."
He can't help the affectionate, if slightly patronising pat he drops on Sherlock's hair, and in the split-second as he freezes he thinks oh bugger he doesn't like touch that he doesn't initiate and finally tells him this is the point where he has officially become Too Familiar with his flatmate and No Wonder People Think We're Gay and -
And Sherlock doesn't seem to mind. The opposite of minding, actually, because one of his long spidery hands comes up and moves John's hand back to his hair, the long line of his shoulders relaxed. "Keep going," comes the faint half-demand, half-request, and John knows that to stop now will only make things a bit more awkward rather than the other way around.
He actually gets so engrossed in his multitasking that Sherlock has to pinch him to get him to pass back the beer. He has half a mind not to give him any, but in the end he relents.
It all feels rather comfortable.
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Thank you!
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Just. Yes. Yes to all of it.
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I ♥ you, anon!
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And the hair-stroking! Yes. My best friend (male) absolutely adores having his hair stroked, and begs for it constantly. Like a puppy. I'm beginning to suspect it's a 'thing' for boys? In any case, picturing John stroking Sherlock's hair is delightful. Especially since I've a great desire to do it, too - Benedict has such lovely, thick curls.
BASICALLY WHAT I AM SAYING IN THIS UNNECESSARILY LONG REVIEW IS THAT YOU ARE FAB, ANON, AND YOU SHOULD UN-ANON SO I CAN READ MORE OF YOU. =D
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