Contact Thinking
Pairing: John/Sherlock (friendship) - basically, you need to stand on your head to see it.
Rating: PG
Summary: Sherlock doesn't see why John is so upset about grabbing his face in public.
Original Prompt:
http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/575.html?thread=946239#t946239 ...............................
"Sherlock."
"Shut up John, I'm trying to think."
"Sherlock really, this is not appropriate."
The detective's black leather gloves had been torn off and shoved into his pocket, hands tightly gripping the sides of John's head.
"Sherlock, please."
The tone is more whiny, exasperated.
"John! Shut up!"
Their foreheads are pressed together, and Sherlock's eyes are clamped shut in concentration. Trying to look at Lestrade, Donovan, and Anderson to rectify the impression they must be giving is futile. Sherlock's hands grip John in such a way that he can't.
"Don't move."
Crossing his arms in a huff, John waits it out.
"OH!"
Sherlock flings his friend backwards as his eyes snap open, whirling around to look at the body once more.
"It was coated on her necklace, but she doesn't clean it herself! All of the jewellery is cleaned by one of the servants, and the only servant she trusted with her jewels was her maid!" he declared happily, "Therefore, the maid...no..."
He was completely oblivious to the smirks on Donovan and Anderson's faces as he grabbed John again, this time opting for his hand. Swinging it back and forth, he thought for a few minutes. A very embarrassed John Watson gave the others a pleading oh-my-god-this-is-not-what-it-looks-like face.
"No, the maid is a distraction. It was the cook. Check the food, you'll find traces of poison there. Obviously in league with the housekeeper, who mixed the other poison into the silver-ware polish and keeps track of the supplies."
Smirk growing wider, Donovan asked, "What was the motive?"
"Oh surely you know that Donovan?"
"Financial?"
"In a way yes, but it goes deeper than that..."
Brow furrowed, he tugged John, taking his other hand and spinning him around. John gave a yelp, and managed to keep up with the motion.
"The housekeeper is an illegitimate niece, and felt that she deserved more. The cook is her lover."
They stopped spinning, and John stumbled, dizzy. The smirks turned into snickers, and even Lestrade couldn't help but smile.
"Why are you giggling?" asked Sherlock, confused, "There's nothing funny about food poisoning. It's quite mundane actually. You think they would-"
"Sherlock," said John, "Shut up."
He placed his hands on Sherlock's shoulders, staring into his eyes, a serious expression on his face.
"Please not in public."
"Not in public?"
"The grabbing. The hugging, spinning, forehead contact stuff."
"But Lestrade won't let me bring my skull," said Sherlock, a hint of a pout on his face, "You don't object to it at home."
Anderson snorted, breaking into louder laughter. John glared. Anderson shut up.
"It's contact thinking."
"It's not done."
"Why?"
John sighed.
"Because people will think we're involved."
"But we are."
Lestrade raised an eyebrow.
"No. We are not involved romantically or sexually."
"Oh, you meant that. No, we're not involved."
John didn't want to know what Sherlock's version of 'involved' was. Lestrade's eyebrow lowered.
"Apart from that, it's perfectly valid. And now that the others know it's not romantic, or anything like that, I can continue, right?"
"No. Sherlock. It's just plain odd at a crime scene. It's like breaking out the vodka and dancing at a crime scene."
Sherlock's face fell.
"But I have no skull."
"Fine. Compromise. You can take my hand, but no spinning or anything more than that, okay?" sighed John.
Sherlock's mouth twitched.
"If you two would kindly piss off," said Anderson, disappointed that the entertainment was over so soon, "I have a crime scene that needs evidence removed from."
Sherlock shot him a glance and said, "Don't contaminate it this time."
He pulled John out by the hand, gloves still in pocket.