BBC Sherlock fanfiction: This is the day
Title: This is the day
Author: TimeGirl10
Characters/Pairing: Sherlock/John
Disclaimer: I only own the insanity in my mind, nothing else. These characters belong to the BBC and Arthur Conan Doyle.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: slash, fluff, drinking, smoking
Spoilers: none
Word count: 1551
Author's notes: sequel to Wrapping. Also, I love decadent!Sherlock too much. Seriously, just do this on screen, please.
Summary: Cancelled New Year's Eve party for John, wine and cigarettes for Sherlock. (I'm so rubbish at summaries.)
John stopped on the pavement and didn't believe his eyes. The club he was going to was surrounded by policemen and he wondered if he would see Lestrade doing a drugs bust here, or something more serious happened.
'Oh, fuck it!' He muttered to himself. 'This was my only chance not to spend New Year's Eve at home and it's gone. Great.'
He really didn't have any idea what to do now. The only other option was the Met New Year party but he didn't want to see Donovan and Anderson snogging in the corner. He could just go into a bar to have a drink or two but that would be very uncomfortable since he wouldn't know anybody and oh, crap. It was extremely very not good. He walked back to the Tube station and sighed as he touched his Oyster card to the reader. Jubilee line, back to Baker Street. Great. Really great. He really liked Sherlock but the last thing he imagined the would do at New Year's Eve was spending the evening with a high-functioning sociopath.
When he entered the flat, it was surprisingly quiet and he smelled something... oh God no. Sherlock just set the house on fire. John was grateful that he came home and rushed into the living room but stopped at the door because what he saw was much more shocking than a fire. Sherlock was lying on the sofa, a glass of wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
'What the hell?' John said, jaw dropped to the floor.
Sherlock looked at him, observed his expression for a few moments then slowly took a drag from his cigarette.
'I hope drinking a bottle of wine and smoking isn't considered so bad behaviour that you already think I'm in hell. Not that it really matters, hell doesn't exist.'
'That was a... never mind.' John sighed. 'May I know why you're doing this?'
'Why not?' Sherlock replied and he couldn't be more decadent. He was wearing his dressing gown, lying on the sofa like a wild cat having a rest, and those long, elegant fingers were carrying a glass and a cigarette... it looked like hell, really.
John was staring at him, eyes wide opened.
'Okay, who are you, what did you do to Sherlock and why do you look like him?'
A smug grin appeared on Sherlock's face as he he raised his hand to take another drag.
'The wine is OK, but how dare you smoke? In the flat?' John raised his voice a little and Sherlock shivered.
'I thought you wouldn't come home before morning, and I'd open the window. You wouldn't notice it.'
'You underestimate my power.' John retorted and finally took his coat off.
'By the way, why did you come home?'
'Thought you already deduced it.'
Sherlock sighed. 'Just for once, I don't want to deduce, I don't even want to think.'
'Are you sick?' John stepped next to him and checked his forehead, he didn't have fever. 'By the way, there's a drugs bust or something like that in the club and the police doesn't let anybody in. Party is cancelled.' He said bitterly.
'Sorry to hear that.' Sherlock said without any emotion in his voice.
John sighed again and left the living room without saying anything else. Sherlock finished his cigarette and immediately lit another one. Soon his flatmate returned with another bottle of wine and a glass. He sat in the armchair and poured some liquid in his glass. Sherlock watched him with interest in his eyes.
'Seems my private party expanded.'
'Yeah. Problem?'
'Nope.'
John looked at him. 'Give me a cigarette, please.'
Sherlock threw the box to him and John caught it, took one and put the box on the coffee table. Sherlock suddenly sat up and put his feet on the floor.
'Why are you doing this?' He asked John.
'Why not?' John smiled and deeply inhaled. 'Oh my, this feels good. I haven't smoked in years.'
He took a sip of his wine. 'You chose well.'
'Of course I did. Glad you like it.' Sherlock also poured wine to his glass and drank half of it. John raised an eyebrow but didn't say a word.
They continued smoking and drinking in silence for a few minutes then suddenly John giggled. Sherlock looked at him questioningly.
'You know, this is the first time in many years that I don't spend New Year's Eve with a girl.'
Sherlock's lips curled a bit.
'This is the first time in many years that I don't spend New Year's Eve chasing a killer.'
John smiled and this made Sherlock to give him a real smile, too.
'Do you mind?' John asked.
'Nope. And you?'
'No. Not at all.' He finished his cigarette and immediately took another one from the box.
John could feel the wine going straight into his head, it's been a while since he last drank. The only light in the living room was just a small lamp on a table and it made everything looking mysterious and magical. They sat in silence for another few minutes then they reached for the box of cigarettes again, at the same moment and before they could stop themselves their fingers brushed. John quickly withdrawed and nodded to Sherlock - after all, it was his. Sherlock took one and lit it.
'Come sit on the sofa, it's closer to the table.'
John could say that he could move his chair closer to the table if he wanted but instead he did as he was told. Sherlock was very... different that night and he liked it. His friend acted almost like a human and this was very strange, but after all, this was the last day of the year, a day when strange things could definitely happen. John quickly drank more wine and saw that the bottle was going to be empty soon. If only they had some more alcohol at home...
'Have you ever had a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend.'
The question just burst out of John and he immediately regretted it. He waved with a hand and murmured sorry but Sherlock shook his head.
'It's okay, I don't mind you asking. Well, I... I had a girlfriend at university, if you want. We dated a few times and then we slept together. That's all.'
'You say it like it was... boring or something like that.' John said and he didn't really try to be careful now.
Sherlock shrugged and poured the remaining wine to his glass.
'She didn't have strong feelings for me, and that night... wasn't so good, so we didn't push. After all, it was like an experiment.'
'An experiment? You can't be serious.'
'Why can't I?' Sherlock looked at him, suddenly he felt nervous.
'You can't go and have sex with people and think it's an experiment.'
'Why not? And, it happened only once.'
John shook his head. It was too early to think Sherlock can be human.
'Because you can't. It's not nice, other people have feelings, you know, you can't play with them.'
'I told you, she didn't really want me.'
'How could you know? I'm not sure you gave a chance for that relationship.'
Because I'm a freak, Sherlock thought bitterly.
'Doesn't matter. But, what do you want me to do, John?'
'It does matter. Sherlock, as I said, people have feelings. Why don't you... it's like you don't have any, except for your work.' John finished and suddenly the silence was too much.
'There's nobody I could feel for.' Sherlock answered a minute later and took the last cigarette from the box. Before he could lit it they heard the noise of the fireworks from outside and John stood up. He walked to the window and looked out. Sherlock hesitated for a moment then put the cigarette down and joined him. They both stared at the sky which was full of colourful wonders and neither of them said a single word. Sherlock stood so close to John that he could feel the warmth of the other man's body. John was so close to him, yet so far away...
Suddenly his friend turned to him and looked into his eyes.
'And what if there was someone who had feelings for you, Sherlock? What would you do?'
Sherlock felt something breaking inside him. He didn't need to deduce anything, the way John looked at him, his eyes told him more than he needed to know. He looked down and saw John's hand that was just an inch away from his. He was scared, he was afraid that he somehow misunderstood everything because he wanted that so much he made it up, but he had to risk. His fingers brushed John's hand gently and he didn't pull back, he didn't mind. His mouth went dry as he leant closer to his best and only friend.
'If there was someone... I wouldn't let them go away. Never.'
He could see the smile on John's face for a fragment of a second before they both moved and their lips met. Suddenly the whole universe was just John and him. As John locked him in his embrace and deepened the kiss Sherlock knew this was the New Year's Day when their lives surely changed.
Author: TimeGirl10
Characters/Pairing: Sherlock/John
Disclaimer: I only own the insanity in my mind, nothing else. These characters belong to the BBC and Arthur Conan Doyle.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: slash, fluff, drinking, smoking
Spoilers: none
Word count: 1551
Author's notes: sequel to Wrapping. Also, I love decadent!Sherlock too much. Seriously, just do this on screen, please.
Summary: Cancelled New Year's Eve party for John, wine and cigarettes for Sherlock. (I'm so rubbish at summaries.)
John stopped on the pavement and didn't believe his eyes. The club he was going to was surrounded by policemen and he wondered if he would see Lestrade doing a drugs bust here, or something more serious happened.
'Oh, fuck it!' He muttered to himself. 'This was my only chance not to spend New Year's Eve at home and it's gone. Great.'
He really didn't have any idea what to do now. The only other option was the Met New Year party but he didn't want to see Donovan and Anderson snogging in the corner. He could just go into a bar to have a drink or two but that would be very uncomfortable since he wouldn't know anybody and oh, crap. It was extremely very not good. He walked back to the Tube station and sighed as he touched his Oyster card to the reader. Jubilee line, back to Baker Street. Great. Really great. He really liked Sherlock but the last thing he imagined the would do at New Year's Eve was spending the evening with a high-functioning sociopath.
When he entered the flat, it was surprisingly quiet and he smelled something... oh God no. Sherlock just set the house on fire. John was grateful that he came home and rushed into the living room but stopped at the door because what he saw was much more shocking than a fire. Sherlock was lying on the sofa, a glass of wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
'What the hell?' John said, jaw dropped to the floor.
Sherlock looked at him, observed his expression for a few moments then slowly took a drag from his cigarette.
'I hope drinking a bottle of wine and smoking isn't considered so bad behaviour that you already think I'm in hell. Not that it really matters, hell doesn't exist.'
'That was a... never mind.' John sighed. 'May I know why you're doing this?'
'Why not?' Sherlock replied and he couldn't be more decadent. He was wearing his dressing gown, lying on the sofa like a wild cat having a rest, and those long, elegant fingers were carrying a glass and a cigarette... it looked like hell, really.
John was staring at him, eyes wide opened.
'Okay, who are you, what did you do to Sherlock and why do you look like him?'
A smug grin appeared on Sherlock's face as he he raised his hand to take another drag.
'The wine is OK, but how dare you smoke? In the flat?' John raised his voice a little and Sherlock shivered.
'I thought you wouldn't come home before morning, and I'd open the window. You wouldn't notice it.'
'You underestimate my power.' John retorted and finally took his coat off.
'By the way, why did you come home?'
'Thought you already deduced it.'
Sherlock sighed. 'Just for once, I don't want to deduce, I don't even want to think.'
'Are you sick?' John stepped next to him and checked his forehead, he didn't have fever. 'By the way, there's a drugs bust or something like that in the club and the police doesn't let anybody in. Party is cancelled.' He said bitterly.
'Sorry to hear that.' Sherlock said without any emotion in his voice.
John sighed again and left the living room without saying anything else. Sherlock finished his cigarette and immediately lit another one. Soon his flatmate returned with another bottle of wine and a glass. He sat in the armchair and poured some liquid in his glass. Sherlock watched him with interest in his eyes.
'Seems my private party expanded.'
'Yeah. Problem?'
'Nope.'
John looked at him. 'Give me a cigarette, please.'
Sherlock threw the box to him and John caught it, took one and put the box on the coffee table. Sherlock suddenly sat up and put his feet on the floor.
'Why are you doing this?' He asked John.
'Why not?' John smiled and deeply inhaled. 'Oh my, this feels good. I haven't smoked in years.'
He took a sip of his wine. 'You chose well.'
'Of course I did. Glad you like it.' Sherlock also poured wine to his glass and drank half of it. John raised an eyebrow but didn't say a word.
They continued smoking and drinking in silence for a few minutes then suddenly John giggled. Sherlock looked at him questioningly.
'You know, this is the first time in many years that I don't spend New Year's Eve with a girl.'
Sherlock's lips curled a bit.
'This is the first time in many years that I don't spend New Year's Eve chasing a killer.'
John smiled and this made Sherlock to give him a real smile, too.
'Do you mind?' John asked.
'Nope. And you?'
'No. Not at all.' He finished his cigarette and immediately took another one from the box.
John could feel the wine going straight into his head, it's been a while since he last drank. The only light in the living room was just a small lamp on a table and it made everything looking mysterious and magical. They sat in silence for another few minutes then they reached for the box of cigarettes again, at the same moment and before they could stop themselves their fingers brushed. John quickly withdrawed and nodded to Sherlock - after all, it was his. Sherlock took one and lit it.
'Come sit on the sofa, it's closer to the table.'
John could say that he could move his chair closer to the table if he wanted but instead he did as he was told. Sherlock was very... different that night and he liked it. His friend acted almost like a human and this was very strange, but after all, this was the last day of the year, a day when strange things could definitely happen. John quickly drank more wine and saw that the bottle was going to be empty soon. If only they had some more alcohol at home...
'Have you ever had a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend.'
The question just burst out of John and he immediately regretted it. He waved with a hand and murmured sorry but Sherlock shook his head.
'It's okay, I don't mind you asking. Well, I... I had a girlfriend at university, if you want. We dated a few times and then we slept together. That's all.'
'You say it like it was... boring or something like that.' John said and he didn't really try to be careful now.
Sherlock shrugged and poured the remaining wine to his glass.
'She didn't have strong feelings for me, and that night... wasn't so good, so we didn't push. After all, it was like an experiment.'
'An experiment? You can't be serious.'
'Why can't I?' Sherlock looked at him, suddenly he felt nervous.
'You can't go and have sex with people and think it's an experiment.'
'Why not? And, it happened only once.'
John shook his head. It was too early to think Sherlock can be human.
'Because you can't. It's not nice, other people have feelings, you know, you can't play with them.'
'I told you, she didn't really want me.'
'How could you know? I'm not sure you gave a chance for that relationship.'
Because I'm a freak, Sherlock thought bitterly.
'Doesn't matter. But, what do you want me to do, John?'
'It does matter. Sherlock, as I said, people have feelings. Why don't you... it's like you don't have any, except for your work.' John finished and suddenly the silence was too much.
'There's nobody I could feel for.' Sherlock answered a minute later and took the last cigarette from the box. Before he could lit it they heard the noise of the fireworks from outside and John stood up. He walked to the window and looked out. Sherlock hesitated for a moment then put the cigarette down and joined him. They both stared at the sky which was full of colourful wonders and neither of them said a single word. Sherlock stood so close to John that he could feel the warmth of the other man's body. John was so close to him, yet so far away...
Suddenly his friend turned to him and looked into his eyes.
'And what if there was someone who had feelings for you, Sherlock? What would you do?'
Sherlock felt something breaking inside him. He didn't need to deduce anything, the way John looked at him, his eyes told him more than he needed to know. He looked down and saw John's hand that was just an inch away from his. He was scared, he was afraid that he somehow misunderstood everything because he wanted that so much he made it up, but he had to risk. His fingers brushed John's hand gently and he didn't pull back, he didn't mind. His mouth went dry as he leant closer to his best and only friend.
'If there was someone... I wouldn't let them go away. Never.'
He could see the smile on John's face for a fragment of a second before they both moved and their lips met. Suddenly the whole universe was just John and him. As John locked him in his embrace and deepened the kiss Sherlock knew this was the New Year's Day when their lives surely changed.