SO, let's say Sherlock and John get dragged to some formal event, or it could be for a case, in which both of them have to get dressed up (I'm talking waistcoats, cufflinks, ties/cravats, the whole thing) the result of which is obviously CRIPPLING SEXUAL FRUSTRATION of an even higher level than normal, which can only culminate in frantic, desperate, still-half-dressed shagging as soon as they step foot back inside 221b.
Extra super bonus points and my eternal adoration if John uses his tie to either gag Sherlock or tie his hands behind his back during said shagging.
I'm filling this, but
anonymous
March 19 2011, 08:41:48 UTC
I would like to make it ABSOLUTELY CLEAR that I did not IN ANY WAY just spend two hours reading about suits on Wikipedia and other places and looking up pictures of pretty men in suits and re-watching Sherlock to see what his suits looked like.
Fa subito (part 1a)
anonymous
March 19 2011, 09:52:19 UTC
"Remind me why we have to go to this again?" John's voice floated down the stairs.
Sherlock sighed. He hated repeating himself.
"Because I told Mycroft I would." He winced at the words. He couldn't believe the day had come when he was actually bowing to Mycroft's wishes. But after the whole incident with Moriarty and the pool, when Mycroft had waltzed in and cleaned up the mess with barely a wave of his fingers, Sherlock felt that he owed his brother something. John was still alive, and it was thanks to Mycroft; surely he could summon the courage to swallow his pride and just do what Mycroft wanted for once?
And it will really only be once, Sherlock thought, scowling.
"Yeah, like that's ever been reason enough for you before," John shouted down, sounding distinctly disgruntled. "And anyway, you said you would. This has absolutely nothing to do with me
( ... )
Fa subito (part 1b)
anonymous
March 19 2011, 10:07:47 UTC
Sherlock gripped his arm tentatively, rotating it until the cuff was facing him. He traced his fingers lightly over the soft fabric of the jacket sleeve, before pushing it back slightly until he could see the whole cuff. John's cufflinks were sterling silver, engraved with two crossed swords behind a lion and a crown. He fastened the link quickly, and ran his finger over the engraving, the cool metal warming quickly to his touch
( ... )
Re: Fa subito (part 1b)zephyrrdragonJuly 7 2011, 20:52:11 UTC
I would just like to say that the not-researching-suits you did really shows - they are described beautifully and sound accurate, even though I don't know the first thing about suits! XD <3
Fa subito (part 3)
anonymous
March 19 2011, 13:41:00 UTC
He eventually found John on the terrace.
He was standing close to the balcony, hands in his pockets and legs spread, simply breathing in the night air. Sherlock paused for a moment at the French windows, watching him. He admired the pull of the silk-wool blend across John's shoulders and the contrast of the off-white of his shirt with the tan that still lingered on his skin. There was a slight breeze tousling John's hair and ruffling the vent of his suit jacket and giving Sherlock a perfect view of his arse. Which, to his not very great surprise, looked excellent in those trousers.
The conviction that had been building all night finally settled itself in Sherlock's stomach. As excellent as John looked in that suit, Sherlock wanted nothing more than to get him out of it
( ... )
SO, let's say Sherlock and John get dragged to some formal event, or it could be for a case, in which both of them have to get dressed up (I'm talking waistcoats, cufflinks, ties/cravats, the whole thing) the result of which is obviously CRIPPLING SEXUAL FRUSTRATION of an even higher level than normal, which can only culminate in frantic, desperate, still-half-dressed shagging as soon as they step foot back inside 221b.
Extra super bonus points and my eternal adoration if John uses his tie to either gag Sherlock or tie his hands behind his back during said shagging.
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*facepalm*
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Sherlock sighed. He hated repeating himself.
"Because I told Mycroft I would." He winced at the words. He couldn't believe the day had come when he was actually bowing to Mycroft's wishes. But after the whole incident with Moriarty and the pool, when Mycroft had waltzed in and cleaned up the mess with barely a wave of his fingers, Sherlock felt that he owed his brother something. John was still alive, and it was thanks to Mycroft; surely he could summon the courage to swallow his pride and just do what Mycroft wanted for once?
And it will really only be once, Sherlock thought, scowling.
"Yeah, like that's ever been reason enough for you before," John shouted down, sounding distinctly disgruntled. "And anyway, you said you would. This has absolutely nothing to do with me ( ... )
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I'm always in favour of a clotheskink. This nommy Nonnie, thank you. I look forward to the next part!
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(The comment has been removed)
*slinks away to the corner*
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He was standing close to the balcony, hands in his pockets and legs spread, simply breathing in the night air. Sherlock paused for a moment at the French windows, watching him. He admired the pull of the silk-wool blend across John's shoulders and the contrast of the off-white of his shirt with the tan that still lingered on his skin. There was a slight breeze tousling John's hair and ruffling the vent of his suit jacket and giving Sherlock a perfect view of his arse. Which, to his not very great surprise, looked excellent in those trousers.
The conviction that had been building all night finally settled itself in Sherlock's stomach. As excellent as John looked in that suit, Sherlock wanted nothing more than to get him out of it ( ... )
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