Fic: Jaguar
Title: Jaguar
Author: ununpentium
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Rating: General
Wordcount: 302
For grassle
Read on AO3
John glances over at Sherlock who is looking extremely at home behind the wheel of the Jaguar.
Sherlock peers at the speedometer and frowns.
"John, it says we're going ninety. Is that miles per hour?"
John twists in his chair as much as his seatbelt will allow.
"Wh- yes Sherlock! It's in miles per hour. Surely you remember taking your test? And I think doing ninety miles per hour on a motorway is a bit illegal."
Sherlock smirks and inches the car closer to one hundred miles per hour, ignoring John's protests.
"Where did you get the car from, anyway? I thought Lestrade would have pitched a fit at you asking to borrow his car at this short notice."
Sherlock stares straight ahead and resolutely does not answer John.
"Sherlock," John says slowly, "Lestrade does know you've borrowed his car, doesn't he?"
The consulting detective does not answer, instead he elects to adjust the air conditioning, misses and accidentally turns the radio on.
"Oh my god we're driving in a stolen car," John looks around him as if somehow there is a way out of the situation he has found himself in. "Do you even have a driving licence?"
"No."
John sits silently, blinking, for exactly one minute before exploding.
"Jesus Christ Sherlock! We're driving in a stolen car, you don't have insurance or a licence and to top things off we're breaking the speed limit. And you're not wearing a seat belt. I think I'm having a heart attack."
"Don't be silly John, it's a panic attack if any-"
"Do not finish that sentence if you wish to remain alive."
Sherlock gulps, continuing to hold the steering wheel in a death grip.
"Fuck," John whispers, "I can't believe we're joyriding."
"I don't feel particularly joyful," Sherlock moans.
John whacks him, hard.
Author: ununpentium
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Rating: General
Wordcount: 302
For grassle
Read on AO3
John glances over at Sherlock who is looking extremely at home behind the wheel of the Jaguar.
Sherlock peers at the speedometer and frowns.
"John, it says we're going ninety. Is that miles per hour?"
John twists in his chair as much as his seatbelt will allow.
"Wh- yes Sherlock! It's in miles per hour. Surely you remember taking your test? And I think doing ninety miles per hour on a motorway is a bit illegal."
Sherlock smirks and inches the car closer to one hundred miles per hour, ignoring John's protests.
"Where did you get the car from, anyway? I thought Lestrade would have pitched a fit at you asking to borrow his car at this short notice."
Sherlock stares straight ahead and resolutely does not answer John.
"Sherlock," John says slowly, "Lestrade does know you've borrowed his car, doesn't he?"
The consulting detective does not answer, instead he elects to adjust the air conditioning, misses and accidentally turns the radio on.
"Oh my god we're driving in a stolen car," John looks around him as if somehow there is a way out of the situation he has found himself in. "Do you even have a driving licence?"
"No."
John sits silently, blinking, for exactly one minute before exploding.
"Jesus Christ Sherlock! We're driving in a stolen car, you don't have insurance or a licence and to top things off we're breaking the speed limit. And you're not wearing a seat belt. I think I'm having a heart attack."
"Don't be silly John, it's a panic attack if any-"
"Do not finish that sentence if you wish to remain alive."
Sherlock gulps, continuing to hold the steering wheel in a death grip.
"Fuck," John whispers, "I can't believe we're joyriding."
"I don't feel particularly joyful," Sherlock moans.
John whacks him, hard.