Re: Attempting to Fill! [2/?]nanadivaDecember 20 2011, 21:52:46 UTC
Okay! Have some more coffee-fueled BBC!Sherlock. Litte bit of S/J, but it's light just in case that pairing doesn't do it for you. o3o +++ The second time John saw that Sherlock cared about his actual well-being wasn't until a few days later. Still without a case, Sherlock was slowly driving John mad - if the sinewy detective was irritatingly brilliant while on a case, he was an absolute arse without one. His focus was all over the place, leaving half-done experiments about the flat; he nitpicked at the crowds outside the windows of 221B; the violin got plenty of abuse - and John somehow managed through it all, simply waiting the childlike behavior out as best he could. There was work for him at least, so there was time to escape and rant to Sarah about his obnoxious flatmate. She offered little sympathy however, for Sherlock was the reason they had split anyways.
Later that week, he had gotten off surgery early. When he stepped in the living room - though it was hardly livable with all the junk Sherlock kept about - he nearly stepped on Sherlock's hand; had the detective not moved it away fast enough, pushing his body up from the floor, clapping his hands together and landing back down on his palms in perfect sync.
John, startled [though by Sherlock's swiftness or the fact that he was doing push-ups shirtless he couldn't be sure], nearly fell back on the door. With a defeated sigh, he managed to maneuver around Sherlock, plopping down in his favored chair.
"Let me guess, part of your sudden "healthy lifestyle" thing?"
"It's not sudden; you've only just begun to notice after six months, two weeks, and three and a half days of living with me."
"I'm not sure what's worse - that I've apparently only just noticed or that fact that you've been keeping track of how long I've been your flatmate."
John offered a small chuckle, and Sherlock paused, letting out a quick breath of soft laughter with a smirk before rolling onto his back, doing a series of crunches. For a moment John sat in silence, watching Sherlock's surprisingly pale abdomen move, the muscles underneath flexing and relaxing with each upward curl, the sweat gently dotting around his collar bone and pectorals. His hair was a bit of a curly friz, sticking gently to his temple and the nape of his neck. He really did look good - shame he was a prick most of the time.
Realizing where his train of thought was headed, John shook his head and reached for the remote, flipping on the afternoon news. He could hear Sherlock sneer as he stood, slipping on his robe before leaving with a bit of a huff. John heard the shower burst to life and let Sherlock be, getting up to brew a cup of tea for the both of them, doing his best to focus on the news in the background rather than his flatmate's abs.
+++
The second time John saw that Sherlock cared about his actual well-being wasn't until a few days later. Still without a case, Sherlock was slowly driving John mad - if the sinewy detective was irritatingly brilliant while on a case, he was an absolute arse without one. His focus was all over the place, leaving half-done experiments about the flat; he nitpicked at the crowds outside the windows of 221B; the violin got plenty of abuse - and John somehow managed through it all, simply waiting the childlike behavior out as best he could. There was work for him at least, so there was time to escape and rant to Sarah about his obnoxious flatmate. She offered little sympathy however, for Sherlock was the reason they had split anyways.
Later that week, he had gotten off surgery early. When he stepped in the living room - though it was hardly livable with all the junk Sherlock kept about - he nearly stepped on Sherlock's hand; had the detective not moved it away fast enough, pushing his body up from the floor, clapping his hands together and landing back down on his palms in perfect sync.
John, startled [though by Sherlock's swiftness or the fact that he was doing push-ups shirtless he couldn't be sure], nearly fell back on the door. With a defeated sigh, he managed to maneuver around Sherlock, plopping down in his favored chair.
"Let me guess, part of your sudden "healthy lifestyle" thing?"
"It's not sudden; you've only just begun to notice after six months, two weeks, and three and a half days of living with me."
"I'm not sure what's worse - that I've apparently only just noticed or that fact that you've been keeping track of how long I've been your flatmate."
John offered a small chuckle, and Sherlock paused, letting out a quick breath of soft laughter with a smirk before rolling onto his back, doing a series of crunches. For a moment John sat in silence, watching Sherlock's surprisingly pale abdomen move, the muscles underneath flexing and relaxing with each upward curl, the sweat gently dotting around his collar bone and pectorals. His hair was a bit of a curly friz, sticking gently to his temple and the nape of his neck. He really did look good - shame he was a prick most of the time.
Realizing where his train of thought was headed, John shook his head and reached for the remote, flipping on the afternoon news. He could hear Sherlock sneer as he stood, slipping on his robe before leaving with a bit of a huff. John heard the shower burst to life and let Sherlock be, getting up to brew a cup of tea for the both of them, doing his best to focus on the news in the background rather than his flatmate's abs.
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Sherlock would make his own vitamins. All of this is very... fitting. Very in character.
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I am blushing SO HARD right now. That is my biggest fear - not getting them in character. That compliment has just... Oh golly gosh let me hug you.
Thanks! I take it you like it so far then? Hopefully I can get more out tomorrow - this prompt is ever so delicious.
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