Sherlock Fic: Lactose Intolerance
Title: Lactose Intolerance
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Rating/Warning: Slash UST, PG-13, Suggestive imagery and juvenile lewdness.
Word Count: 400-ish
Beta/Preview: ciaranbochna and sandrinnad, who have the knowing of things.
Summary “Ice cream is exquisite. What a pity it isn't illegal.” ~Voltaire
A/N: A tamer-than-asked for response to this prompt at the meme.
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Lactose Intolerance
by CaffieneKitty
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It ought to be illegal for Sherlock Holmes to eat ice cream. Lestrade watched the man's shockingly pink tongue work around the edge of the cone, lapping at where the French vanilla met the sweet ridge of toasted hand-rolled waffle cone. Darting out to catch the creamy white dribbles trailing slowly down...
Should definitely be illegal. Lestrade thought, dropping his eyes to his own banana milkshake and clearing his throat. At least in public.
His mind flooded with images of Sherlock, a pint of strawberry ripple and all the privacy in the world. He cleared his throat again and looked back up, determined not to act like a teenager though certain parts of his anatomy were giving it serious consideration.
Sherlock tilted his head and he began nibbling around the rim of the cone, teeth nipping gently- Oh Christ. Lestrade turned abruptly to Doctor Watson, sitting next to him in the booth. "So, Doctor Watson, nice job catching that bit about the marks on the neck."
John Watson's mouth hung open slightly as he watched Sherlock’s progress around the ice cream cone; a spoonful of his hot fudge sundae dangled in mid-air, forgotten and melting.
"Doctor Watson?"
John looked down and carefully put the spoon back into his dish. "Um. Yeah. I...." He cleared his throat, glancing anywhere but at Sherlock or Lestrade.
A dribble of melted ice cream trickled halfway down the side of Sherlock’s cone. With an “Ooo!” Sherlock turned the cone and licked all the way up the side with that damned pink tongue. A customer passing the table stumbled and dropped her lemon ice, eyes fixated on Sherlock. The Flake bar sticking from Sherlock’s ice cream seemed suddenly far too phallic.
He’s a public menace, and he doesn't even realise what he's doing to-
"This is quite good," Sherlock said, tip of his tongue flicking at the corners of his mouth, fastidious. "We should go out for ice cream more often."
"Mmm," said John, eyes widening as he stuffed a spoonful of sundae into his mouth.
"Well," said Lestrade.
"Though I don't know why they'd want to ruin a perfectly lovely vanilla with a vulgar bar of chocolate." Sherlock extracted the Flake bar from the ice cream and held it out, dripping. "Would either of you care for a lick?"
John choked on his hot fudge. Lestrade used the distraction to shift in his seat.
Absolutely. Illegal.
- - -
(that’s all)
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Rating/Warning: Slash UST, PG-13, Suggestive imagery and juvenile lewdness.
Word Count: 400-ish
Beta/Preview: ciaranbochna and sandrinnad, who have the knowing of things.
Summary “Ice cream is exquisite. What a pity it isn't illegal.” ~Voltaire
A/N: A tamer-than-asked for response to this prompt at the meme.
-
Lactose Intolerance
by CaffieneKitty
-
It ought to be illegal for Sherlock Holmes to eat ice cream. Lestrade watched the man's shockingly pink tongue work around the edge of the cone, lapping at where the French vanilla met the sweet ridge of toasted hand-rolled waffle cone. Darting out to catch the creamy white dribbles trailing slowly down...
Should definitely be illegal. Lestrade thought, dropping his eyes to his own banana milkshake and clearing his throat. At least in public.
His mind flooded with images of Sherlock, a pint of strawberry ripple and all the privacy in the world. He cleared his throat again and looked back up, determined not to act like a teenager though certain parts of his anatomy were giving it serious consideration.
Sherlock tilted his head and he began nibbling around the rim of the cone, teeth nipping gently- Oh Christ. Lestrade turned abruptly to Doctor Watson, sitting next to him in the booth. "So, Doctor Watson, nice job catching that bit about the marks on the neck."
John Watson's mouth hung open slightly as he watched Sherlock’s progress around the ice cream cone; a spoonful of his hot fudge sundae dangled in mid-air, forgotten and melting.
"Doctor Watson?"
John looked down and carefully put the spoon back into his dish. "Um. Yeah. I...." He cleared his throat, glancing anywhere but at Sherlock or Lestrade.
A dribble of melted ice cream trickled halfway down the side of Sherlock’s cone. With an “Ooo!” Sherlock turned the cone and licked all the way up the side with that damned pink tongue. A customer passing the table stumbled and dropped her lemon ice, eyes fixated on Sherlock. The Flake bar sticking from Sherlock’s ice cream seemed suddenly far too phallic.
He’s a public menace, and he doesn't even realise what he's doing to-
"This is quite good," Sherlock said, tip of his tongue flicking at the corners of his mouth, fastidious. "We should go out for ice cream more often."
"Mmm," said John, eyes widening as he stuffed a spoonful of sundae into his mouth.
"Well," said Lestrade.
"Though I don't know why they'd want to ruin a perfectly lovely vanilla with a vulgar bar of chocolate." Sherlock extracted the Flake bar from the ice cream and held it out, dripping. "Would either of you care for a lick?"
John choked on his hot fudge. Lestrade used the distraction to shift in his seat.
Absolutely. Illegal.
- - -
(that’s all)