What People Do, 1dmismatched37September 22 2011, 06:22:05 UTC
He noticed her gaze had found the aforementioned shoulder wound and winced. He remembered some other men in his physical therapy program recounting the negative reactions of their significant others to their scarring. John found himself slightly embarrassed in spite of himself. "If you'd rather I keep the shirt on--I know it's--"
Iris captured his lips in hers to cut him off. "John, I've seen detailed pictures of your original injury." She seemed reluctant, as if she suddenly remembered that something like that could be considered an invasion of privacy. "I only meant that I don't want to accidentally hurt you."
"It's fine," John answered. Iris smoothed a hand from his neck down to rest tentatively over his scar. He leaned into the touch. John moved his hands across her back and carefully unclasped her bra. "We'll discuss that over lunch?"
"Of course," she nodded, punctuating her agreement by busying herself with the fastenings of his trousers and slowly pushing him to lie back on the bed.
-------
John's first coherent thought after collapsing back into the overly-fluffy pillows and sinfully soft sheets was wondering why exactly people don't do this. Beside him, Iris's breathing was slowing from the frantic gasps that had consumed her lithe figure only minutes ago. He turned his head to watch her eyes flicker in long blinks, a relaxed slight smile gracing her face as she came back to herself. She stretched languidly, pressing her head back into the pillow and pushing her feet as far as they would go, relaxing again and focusing her eyes on John's.
He propped himself up on one arm and kissed her slowly and happily, leaning back again before speaking. "I think this might work."
Iris smiled. "Even better than I expected." She untangled one of her legs from the bedclothes to cant it for balance as she grabbed her mobile from her purse on the nightstand and propped herself up on her elbows. "Does Monday work for you?"
"For what?" John smiled at the ridiculousness of the situation: the beautiful woman who had just propositioned him for what he felt had been very good sex was already back to work. "Oh, lunch." She nodded. "Yes, that should be fine."
She solidified the appointment in her calendar, John assumed, and set the phone back down.
"So you're not immediately jumping back to your duties?" John teased to mask his surprise.
"No," she sighed, then smirked. "I have another half hour. As I said before, much better than I expected, which isn't to say that my expectations were low to begin with."
John decided to accept the compliment without questions. "I don't mean to throw you out of bed," she continued sincerely, "but I assume that your flatmate will be missing you by now."
John nodded. "If he realizes I've gone. And I still need to see after the groceries."
"The car downstairs will drop you about a block from 221b, just in case you'd like to attempt some level of secrecy from Sherlock. Though, I've learned that trying to keep something from a Holmes is next to impossible." Next to, she'd said with a wink. John wondered if she'd give lessons.
-------
As Iris had said, the car pulled to the curb a little less than a block from John's flat.
"Sir," the driver said as he opened the door, "I was instructed to give you these." The man handed John a Tesco bag and a small envelope.
John thanked him, and the car drove away. He peeked into the bag to find fresh milk, beans, and bread, then turned his attention to the envelope, which contained two pieces of stationary the size of business cards, both embossed in the lower right-hand corner with a raised letter M. On one, a phone number was scrawled, and the other read, If there is mould in the milk, I would not trust the bread. The number on the other card is best to text me. Throw this card away at the bin on your right.
John looked to his right from where he'd been walking. Sure enough, there was a rubbish bin, and just as soon as he deposited the card, a city worker emptied it.
Despite nearly using mouldy milk in his tea, this afternoon had gone better than John could've ever imagined.
What People Do, a/nmismatched37September 22 2011, 06:25:57 UTC
a/n 2.0: well, my brain officially refused to write sexytiems (according to some minor html glitches, i assume that mycroft is a touch angry with me), but i hope you liked it, op! i have some serious head-canon going now, so if i get time there will probably be more eventually. many thinks to my beta, swk, and thank you for reading!
Re: What People Do, 1dmismatched37September 22 2011, 11:02:59 UTC
*g* I love this, and I'd love to read more if you ever feel the muse for more of this 'verse!
I love the way that AntheaIris is so matter-of-fact about organising things - it's a sensible arrangement for two people who are caught up in the time-consuming business of looking after a Holmes brother. And meanwhile John's swept along by her efficiency in a kind of, "What's going on? Yeah, OK, cool... you know actually this is a really brilliant idea!" Both hilarious and hot, even without explicit sexytimes. ♥
Re: What People Do, 1d OPmismatched37September 22 2011, 20:24:12 UTC
That was lovely! I'll admit, I was hoping for the sexytiems, but I thoroughly enjoyed reading this as well--especially because it was John/Anthea and it's nearly impossible to find that pairing. Thank you so much for writing this! I really, really enjoyed it. :)
Re: What People Do, 1dmismatched37September 29 2011, 02:06:25 UTC
(gack! imprompt reply on my part, my inbox ate lj notifications) i'm so glad that you liked it! thanks for prompting and reading :) (hopefully the meme provides more john/anthea in the future!)
Iris captured his lips in hers to cut him off. "John, I've seen detailed pictures of your original injury." She seemed reluctant, as if she suddenly remembered that something like that could be considered an invasion of privacy. "I only meant that I don't want to accidentally hurt you."
"It's fine," John answered. Iris smoothed a hand from his neck down to rest tentatively over his scar. He leaned into the touch. John moved his hands across her back and carefully unclasped her bra. "We'll discuss that over lunch?"
"Of course," she nodded, punctuating her agreement by busying herself with the fastenings of his trousers and slowly pushing him to lie back on the bed.
-------
John's first coherent thought after collapsing back into the overly-fluffy pillows and sinfully soft sheets was wondering why exactly people don't do this. Beside him, Iris's breathing was slowing from the frantic gasps that had consumed her lithe figure only minutes ago. He turned his head to watch her eyes flicker in long blinks, a relaxed slight smile gracing her face as she came back to herself. She stretched languidly, pressing her head back into the pillow and pushing her feet as far as they would go, relaxing again and focusing her eyes on John's.
He propped himself up on one arm and kissed her slowly and happily, leaning back again before speaking. "I think this might work."
Iris smiled. "Even better than I expected." She untangled one of her legs from the bedclothes to cant it for balance as she grabbed her mobile from her purse on the nightstand and propped herself up on her elbows. "Does Monday work for you?"
"For what?" John smiled at the ridiculousness of the situation: the beautiful woman who had just propositioned him for what he felt had been very good sex was already back to work. "Oh, lunch." She nodded. "Yes, that should be fine."
She solidified the appointment in her calendar, John assumed, and set the phone back down.
"So you're not immediately jumping back to your duties?" John teased to mask his surprise.
"No," she sighed, then smirked. "I have another half hour. As I said before, much better than I expected, which isn't to say that my expectations were low to begin with."
John decided to accept the compliment without questions. "I don't mean to throw you out of bed," she continued sincerely, "but I assume that your flatmate will be missing you by now."
John nodded. "If he realizes I've gone. And I still need to see after the groceries."
"The car downstairs will drop you about a block from 221b, just in case you'd like to attempt some level of secrecy from Sherlock. Though, I've learned that trying to keep something from a Holmes is next to impossible." Next to, she'd said with a wink. John wondered if she'd give lessons.
-------
As Iris had said, the car pulled to the curb a little less than a block from John's flat.
"Sir," the driver said as he opened the door, "I was instructed to give you these." The man handed John a Tesco bag and a small envelope.
John thanked him, and the car drove away. He peeked into the bag to find fresh milk, beans, and bread, then turned his attention to the envelope, which contained two pieces of stationary the size of business cards, both embossed in the lower right-hand corner with a raised letter M. On one, a phone number was scrawled, and the other read, If there is mould in the milk, I would not trust the bread. The number on the other card is best to text me. Throw this card away at the bin on your right.
John looked to his right from where he'd been walking. Sure enough, there was a rubbish bin, and just as soon as he deposited the card, a city worker emptied it.
Despite nearly using mouldy milk in his tea, this afternoon had gone better than John could've ever imagined.
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I love the way that AntheaIris is so matter-of-fact about organising things - it's a sensible arrangement for two people who are caught up in the time-consuming business of looking after a Holmes brother. And meanwhile John's swept along by her efficiency in a kind of, "What's going on? Yeah, OK, cool... you know actually this is a really brilliant idea!" Both hilarious and hot, even without explicit sexytimes. ♥
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