Tranquil Kisses
Title: Tranquil Kisses
Prompt: (from sherlockbbc_fic.livejournal.com ) "Sherlock's favourite thing to do in the evening, after a long day of case work and running all over London, is to cuddle up with John in bed and kiss him to sleep :)"
Pairing: established Sherlock/John
Genre: romance
Rating: PG
Warning(s): None; it's fairly tame.
---
It was no big secret that one of Sherlock Holmes' favorite things to do was to solve difficult crimes. To many it seemed that that was his only favorite thing and, for the most part, they were correct. Sherlock never tired of the rush each new mystery brought him. He apparently existed for the purpose of running around London, putting himself in danger and arguing with any form of law enforcement, namely Lestrade.
To the knowledge of all but one person, being a consulting detective was the only thing keeping the man semi-sane. But at the end of the day, when mysteries were solved and wrongs were righted, Sherlock would return to his flat to enjoy his own preferred method of winding down for bed.
Never one for showing copious amounts of affection, Sherlock had discovered the method by accident. At first he rejected the idea that it should remain a traditional part of their daily lives. Tradition was boring and had no place in his mile-a-minute lifestyle. As time passed, he decided that it could be reasoned that the tradition was okay to uphold every so often, if only for the sake of his flatmate, who had absolutely no problem insisting that they keep it up.
By the time Sherlock realized it had happened, the method was taking place every night. Rather than trying to rationalize with himself, he decided to simply let go of his logic and pride in favor of the pure satisfaction the act brought them.
-----
Sherlock had left the flat early one morning to run an investigation. He'd been so into the entire thing that he failed to return a single text or phone call the entire day. It was well past dark by the time he made it home. The high of solving the mystery still lingered about him as he stepped through the door. A single lamp was on, illuminating the front room in an eerie sort of way that created shadows in every corner. Stiffling a yawn, the lanky man efficiently removed his coat, scarf and shoes. It was late, so it was perfectly reasonable to assume that John was already in bed, possibly asleep.
Sherlock stepped around the familiar mess of the flat, spotting evidence that the doctor had sat down to eat and read the paper at some point that evening. Everything else appeared to be where he'd last seen it that morning.
He soon made his way to the bedroom. The lights were off and the air was warm; John rather enjoyed a heated room during the cold months. Sherlock paused in the doorway, straining to listen for signs of life. He picked up the subtle sounds of John inhaling and exhaling at a rate that signalled sleep.
As he walked towards the bed, the consulting detective continued to undress until he was down to his pants. He tossed his clothes carelessly on the floor, not caring that that would earn him yet another scolding in the morning from his friend, and lifted the covers to slide in behind John, situating himself to fit the sleeping man's form.
Sherlock wrapped his arm around John's waist, pulling him close to his chest. He laid his head down for a moment to breathe in the scent of the shorter man, his warm breath tickling the physician's ear.
He stirred slightly, muttering, "Sh'rlock...?"
"Go back to sleep, John." The lanky detective lifted his head, leaning over to press a kiss to John's forehead. They looked at one another in silence for a moment before Sherlock kissed the slighter man on the lips. "Sleep."
A tired smiled crossed John's lips, "You can't just will me to sleep, y'know."
"The hell I can't." Sherlock kissed him again, slower and sweeter than before. John gave a soft whimper, pressing against Sherlock even more.
"Had a good day, then?" The doctor inquired once they broke apart, his voice heavy with the sleep that was creeping back upon him.
"A good night." Sherlock amended, kissing the other man just beneath the earlobe. He allowed himself a small, victorious smirk as John's body relaxed, his breath evening out again.
He kissed the shorter man one more time before settling himself so that his head was resting against John's back. Satisfied, he allowed himself to completely relax, drifting off to the sound of John's heart beating.
Prompt: (from sherlockbbc_fic.livejournal.com ) "Sherlock's favourite thing to do in the evening, after a long day of case work and running all over London, is to cuddle up with John in bed and kiss him to sleep :)"
Pairing: established Sherlock/John
Genre: romance
Rating: PG
Warning(s): None; it's fairly tame.
---
It was no big secret that one of Sherlock Holmes' favorite things to do was to solve difficult crimes. To many it seemed that that was his only favorite thing and, for the most part, they were correct. Sherlock never tired of the rush each new mystery brought him. He apparently existed for the purpose of running around London, putting himself in danger and arguing with any form of law enforcement, namely Lestrade.
To the knowledge of all but one person, being a consulting detective was the only thing keeping the man semi-sane. But at the end of the day, when mysteries were solved and wrongs were righted, Sherlock would return to his flat to enjoy his own preferred method of winding down for bed.
Never one for showing copious amounts of affection, Sherlock had discovered the method by accident. At first he rejected the idea that it should remain a traditional part of their daily lives. Tradition was boring and had no place in his mile-a-minute lifestyle. As time passed, he decided that it could be reasoned that the tradition was okay to uphold every so often, if only for the sake of his flatmate, who had absolutely no problem insisting that they keep it up.
By the time Sherlock realized it had happened, the method was taking place every night. Rather than trying to rationalize with himself, he decided to simply let go of his logic and pride in favor of the pure satisfaction the act brought them.
-----
Sherlock had left the flat early one morning to run an investigation. He'd been so into the entire thing that he failed to return a single text or phone call the entire day. It was well past dark by the time he made it home. The high of solving the mystery still lingered about him as he stepped through the door. A single lamp was on, illuminating the front room in an eerie sort of way that created shadows in every corner. Stiffling a yawn, the lanky man efficiently removed his coat, scarf and shoes. It was late, so it was perfectly reasonable to assume that John was already in bed, possibly asleep.
Sherlock stepped around the familiar mess of the flat, spotting evidence that the doctor had sat down to eat and read the paper at some point that evening. Everything else appeared to be where he'd last seen it that morning.
He soon made his way to the bedroom. The lights were off and the air was warm; John rather enjoyed a heated room during the cold months. Sherlock paused in the doorway, straining to listen for signs of life. He picked up the subtle sounds of John inhaling and exhaling at a rate that signalled sleep.
As he walked towards the bed, the consulting detective continued to undress until he was down to his pants. He tossed his clothes carelessly on the floor, not caring that that would earn him yet another scolding in the morning from his friend, and lifted the covers to slide in behind John, situating himself to fit the sleeping man's form.
Sherlock wrapped his arm around John's waist, pulling him close to his chest. He laid his head down for a moment to breathe in the scent of the shorter man, his warm breath tickling the physician's ear.
He stirred slightly, muttering, "Sh'rlock...?"
"Go back to sleep, John." The lanky detective lifted his head, leaning over to press a kiss to John's forehead. They looked at one another in silence for a moment before Sherlock kissed the slighter man on the lips. "Sleep."
A tired smiled crossed John's lips, "You can't just will me to sleep, y'know."
"The hell I can't." Sherlock kissed him again, slower and sweeter than before. John gave a soft whimper, pressing against Sherlock even more.
"Had a good day, then?" The doctor inquired once they broke apart, his voice heavy with the sleep that was creeping back upon him.
"A good night." Sherlock amended, kissing the other man just beneath the earlobe. He allowed himself a small, victorious smirk as John's body relaxed, his breath evening out again.
He kissed the shorter man one more time before settling himself so that his head was resting against John's back. Satisfied, he allowed himself to completely relax, drifting off to the sound of John's heart beating.