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It was 4am, yet Sherlock was fully dressed, stretched out on top of his bed, unmoving. His ankles were crossed, hands folded in typical prayer-like position under his chin, but his mind, was firmly entrenched inside his Mind Palace. (rest below the cut)[[MORE]]
He and John had spent the entire evening following a man around London. A man that Sherlock was certain had murdered recently, and would do it again in the next week. Unfortunately, their chase had been fruitless, and now John was passed out on the couch, snoring softly in their living room, thoroughly exhausted from their late night adventures .
An outsider would assume that Sherlock’s mind was buzzing about the details of the case, but they would be wrong. He was actually analyzing a singular moment, one where he and John had been wedged together in a tight alley. A unusual urge had threatened to take over Sherlock’s body at that moment, he wanted to be closer to John. He had wanted to kiss him.
Ever since that split-second of wanting, it was all he could think about. Sherlock tried to shove the idea out his thoughts, tried to delete it from his Mind Palace, but there was no shaking the desire. It continued to shove itself into the forefront of his consciousness, and refused to be forgotten.
Sherlock realized that there was only one logical solution, he had to kiss John right now and get it out of his system. Wanting to waste no further time, he leapt from the bed and made his way into their living room. John was still passed out on the sofa, and Sherlock continued striding into the room, until he was looming over John’s sleeping form.
He studied the angle for a moment, hands clasped behind his back, and tilted his head accordingly. Then Sherlock closed his eyes and leaned down to press his full lips to John’s.
The sensation was soft, but nothing like he’d imagined. Sherlock wanted the pervasive thoughts to stop, so he deepened the kiss by slipping his tongue inside John’s slightly open mouth. Sherlock ran the tip of it along the inside of John’s bottom lip, it felt like warm velvet, and Sherlock was throughly enjoying himself.
When suddenly, his shoulders were trapped in a vice-like grip, and Sherlock made a sharp noise of surprise. He pulled his tongue back inside his own mouth, and his eyes flew open to view a grinning John Watson.
“You know kissing someone without their permission is highly unethical.”
"I’m sorry, John. I’m truly sorry, I just…I…"
John laughed in reply. “It’s fine, you mad bastard. Now, get down here already.” John yanked Sherlock into his lap. “Now, let’s do this properly, hmm?
Sherlock nodded, too excited for words and his face broke into a genuine smile, and his heart fluttered like it was filled with a million happy bees.
He and John had spent the entire evening following a man around London. A man that Sherlock was certain had murdered recently, and would do it again in the next week. Unfortunately, their chase had been fruitless, and now John was passed out on the couch, snoring softly in their living room, thoroughly exhausted from their late night adventures .
An outsider would assume that Sherlock’s mind was buzzing about the details of the case, but they would be wrong. He was actually analyzing a singular moment, one where he and John had been wedged together in a tight alley. A unusual urge had threatened to take over Sherlock’s body at that moment, he wanted to be closer to John. He had wanted to kiss him.
Ever since that split-second of wanting, it was all he could think about. Sherlock tried to shove the idea out his thoughts, tried to delete it from his Mind Palace, but there was no shaking the desire. It continued to shove itself into the forefront of his consciousness, and refused to be forgotten.
Sherlock realized that there was only one logical solution, he had to kiss John right now and get it out of his system. Wanting to waste no further time, he leapt from the bed and made his way into their living room. John was still passed out on the sofa, and Sherlock continued striding into the room, until he was looming over John’s sleeping form.
He studied the angle for a moment, hands clasped behind his back, and tilted his head accordingly. Then Sherlock closed his eyes and leaned down to press his full lips to John’s.
The sensation was soft, but nothing like he’d imagined. Sherlock wanted the pervasive thoughts to stop, so he deepened the kiss by slipping his tongue inside John’s slightly open mouth. Sherlock ran the tip of it along the inside of John’s bottom lip, it felt like warm velvet, and Sherlock was throughly enjoying himself.
When suddenly, his shoulders were trapped in a vice-like grip, and Sherlock made a sharp noise of surprise. He pulled his tongue back inside his own mouth, and his eyes flew open to view a grinning John Watson.
“You know kissing someone without their permission is highly unethical.”
"I’m sorry, John. I’m truly sorry, I just…I…"
John laughed in reply. “It’s fine, you mad bastard. Now, get down here already.” John yanked Sherlock into his lap. “Now, let’s do this properly, hmm?
Sherlock nodded, too excited for words and his face broke into a genuine smile, and his heart fluttered like it was filled with a million happy bees.
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