He checks the living room, suspicion obvious. Sherlock is literally in exactly the same place as he was before. He's got a talent for that, the twat.
"You said you didn't want anything." John frowns from the doorway.
"I didn't." The younger man's consonants are overly crisp, there's an amused lilt in his voice, and he has a faintly conspiratorial cast to his expression. From that, John deduces that the quarter-sandwich has most definitely not floated out of the window. He eats quickly, to prevent any more of it 'escaping
( ... )
Perfect? I wouldn't call it that but thank you very much. I got about halfway through and decided it was the worst thing ever, but it's nice to know that finishing wasn't just me being self-indulgent. c:
Can somebody fic it? And make it terribly domestic? With beer? And mocking each other?
Either slash or just plain bromance, I'm not fussy.
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"Oh come on, it's not even ( ... )
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"You said you didn't want anything." John frowns from the doorway.
"I didn't." The younger man's consonants are overly crisp, there's an amused lilt in his voice, and he has a faintly conspiratorial cast to his expression. From that, John deduces that the quarter-sandwich has most definitely not floated out of the window. He eats quickly, to prevent any more of it 'escaping ( ... )
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Thank you!
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Just. Yes. Yes to all of it.
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I ♥ you, anon!
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