John took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
In through the nose, out through the mouth. Wait. Was it the other was round? Better do it just in case. In through the mouth, out through the nose. There safe whatever way.
John felt humiliated and he hadn't even left his bedroom yet. He pulled at the bottom of the suit jacket, straightening it out and removing any creases. He slipped on his black shoes and tied the laces as tight as they would go. He quickly ran a comb through his hair but it was recently cut so easy to manage.
The doctor walked down the stairs expecting to see the detective waiting in the lounge area when he wasn't John was surprised but not worried. He sat in his armchair with a book and got a few pages done while waiting for the high functioning sociopath.
They had been invited to have dinner with Mycroft at a posh restaurant for his birthday and after John told the detective that it was polite to attend his brother's birthday, and with some blackmailing, Sherlock eventually decided to go. It was to be a small gathering of Mycroft, Anthea, Sherlock, John, Lestrade, Molly and Mrs Hudson. They had all been told to dress in black tie.
And that is where the issue lay, John hated black tie. It was so constrictive and made John feel slightly claustrophobic. He looked down at his shoes that were polished so perfectly that the owner could only have a military background. He sighed, again, looking at himself in the reflection of the living room mirror. He was still looking and sighing when Sherlock Holmes, the tornado, stormed through the lounge looking for his tie. He sent papers flying and left pillows upturned in his frantic search.
After he found it he held it in his hand and stared down at it. From the face he was pulling you would think it had bitten him.
"What's wrong?" John was honestly curious to why Sherlock was stood there staring at a tie.
The sociopath uttered something under his breath.
John sighed, for the six time in the last hour. "What was that?"
"I don't know how to do it." Sherlock grumbled turning away from his flatmate slightly.
"Do what?"
"The tie!" Sherlock thrust the tie under John's nose. "I can't do the tie!" The detective was getting frustrated and they hadn't even seen Mycroft yet today.
The ex-military doctor stood and neatly tied the tie in place before flattening it down till it met his expectations of neatness. He then straightened his friend's jacket and patted down his unruly ebony hair.
"... Okay, all ready?" John asked after a minute of awkward silence. Sherlock nodded in reply and as the doctor stepped away to leave he realised that the tall detective hadn't moved. He was stood staring at his flatmate with him mouth open a little bit. "You coming?"
Sherlock stopped his inspection of John to walk down the stairs and into the town car Mycroft had sent. Of course, the studying of his friend continued once inside the dark car.
John was wearing a dark suit that was excellently fitted. It showed off his thin waist perfectly and the jacket made his broad shoulders even wider but not too much. The dark burgundy tie created an effective contrast from his slightly tanned skin. Sherlock had never seen John in a suit and he couldn't believe what he had been missing. The fitted suit turned the doctor from a frumpy middle aged man, who was too keen on jumpers, to a magazine model, advertising the latest trends and accessories.
The sociopath looked down at himself and held back a deep sigh. Despite his natural high cheekbones and that he was incredibly thin. John put him to shame in a suit. He looked uncomfortable but it showed off every curve in the blonde's body. Every muscle was shown through the expensive material.
How had John hidden this from me! He looks extremely nice.
Sherlock grunted in frustration, was nice really the best word there was for how John looks?
Sherlock flicked through his mental thesaurus. Delightful, handsome, attractive, charming … Attractive works. John looks extremely attractive. definitely better then nice.
"You look nice in a suit." Sherlock averted his eyes out of the window to avoid eye contact. Why did I use 'nice' again? Am I losing all control of my vocabulary?
"Umm...Thanks, I guess." John was shocked to hear a compliment fall from Sherlock's plump lips. Sherlock gave him an awkward smile then proceeded to gaze out of the window. Every few minutes his eyes darted back around to look John up and down.
Awkwardly, John sat opposite Sherlock in the government car. He was starting to get uncomfortable with the detective's constant glances. Thankfully, it wasn't long before they had reached the restaurant and had to leave the car.
Oh my God! Oh my God! I look stupid. Everyone is going to see me and laugh, John moaned internally.
Sherlock made sure that he let John exit the car first, out of common courtesy (to get a look at the doctor's bum). Sherlock licked his plump lips as the ex-soldier pulled himself out of the dark car revealing a firm, defined bottom on the doctor. Sherlock frowned slightly, how had he not noticed that? I wish John didn't cover himself up with thick jumpers and comfortable jeans.
They made their way into the restaurant and Sherlock gave the name across to the hostess. She was too busy staring at John to notice the detective speak. Sherlock quickly decided he didn't like John getting all this attention. He was the detective's blogger. Nobody else could have him! Sherlock repeated the statement.
"We are here for Mycroft Holmes. I believe there is a table reserved for seven of us." Sherlock snapped at the well-dressed woman.
"Of course, sir. This way." She led the way to a table in a private room where everyone else who was invited was waiting for them.
They were also all in black tie which John hoped would stop anyone commenting on him. The hostess gave John a lingering look before leaving the room. John hadn't noticed the second glances strangers were giving him as they passed through the dining room but Sherlock did. If John did see anyone looking over he suspected they were staring at the beautiful consulting detective who was walking gracefully in front of him.
After the hostess had left John muttered an apology for being late before rushing to his chair. Sherlock followed at more of a leisurely pace to sit opposite him.
John was fiddling with the cuff of his shirt, trying to straighten it with military precision, when he noticed that the room was silent. He looked up quickly to see everyone staring at him.
"What? What have I done?" John exclaimed confused.
Mycroft attempted to regain composer and close his mouth, which was hanging open. He couldn't deny that John looked amazing in a suit. Sherlock saw his brother's interest and scowled at him, "Nothing, John. I just haven't seen you in a suit before."
"Stop staring at him!" The detective demanded waving his hand at John. If Mycroft tries to even touch my John I will kill him. He can take his sexual desires elsewhere.
Everyone in the room shook their heads trying to think of something to say. John was starting to feel extremely uncomfortable. I know I look bad in a suit but this is ridiculous!
"I know I look ridiculous! You don't have to pretend I don't." John said to try and get everybody used to the idea he looked like a clown.
This time even Sherlock was speechless as he stared at the doctor. How could he possibly think that?
"Why do you think that, dear?" Mrs Hudson was the first to recover from the shock so decided to speak first.
"Well... Just look at me. I look like an idiot! Don't worry Mrs H. You don't have to be nice. You look lovely by the way." John said as he admired her black glittery cardigan. He tried to navigate the conversation into a different direction and eventually he was successful.
The conversation went on to
talk about everything from the government to the weather but John did notice the lingering glances everyone was giving him, including the waitresses and waiters. It was making him increasingly self-conscious.
What John didn't notice was the scowls and snarls Sherlock was sending their way anytime they did. John was becoming more and more uncomfortable and of course the consulting detective picked up on it straight away.
Sherlock got them out of there as quickly as possible without being considered rude. They made their excuses and left soon after dessert. The good doctor breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the fresh air outside.
He and Sherlock decided to walk home instead of taking the black town car that had just arrived. The fresh air crisp in their lungs.
They walked on in companionable silence as they both reflected on the evening. Well, to be honest all Sherlock could focus on was how good John looked in a suit and why hadn't he seen him in one before.
"You don't wear suits very often despite the fact that you look great" The sociopath stated, casually. Once again he would have to look through his mental thesaurus. Great? He could do better than that.
"They are uncomfortable and I look a fool! Of course I don't wear them. Just because you can throw one on and look like a God doesn't mean the rest of us can." John looked the tall man up and down before sighing.
"John ... When we return I want you to look in the mirror and tell me what you see." John frowned at the thought of having to look at himself for any length of time.
John was surprised that Sherlock seemed to actually care about him. Not very sociopathic at all.
They walked the rest of the way in a comfortable silence.
As soon as Sherlock had opened the door John shot up the stairs towards his bedroom. He was relieved that he could finally take this monstrosity off. He was removing the jacket when Sherlock strode in.
"I don't know if they do this on your home planet but we do it a lot here and it's called knocking. It may seem strange to begin with but it is very commonplace here on Earth. You should really try it." John made sure that his words were clearly sarcastic.
Sherlock ignored John's comment and continued on into room looking around curiously. "Put the jacket back on and stand by the mirror."
Sherlock wasn't even looking at his friend while he spoke. John sighed which he had been doing a lot recently but being a military man he followed the orders presented to him.
Once he was positioned in front of the mirror Sherlock came and stood close behind him. He could feel the heat radiating of the taller man. His heart started beating faster and John swore that Sherlock would be able to hear it thundering through his veins.
Sherlock did notice the slight blush that broke onto his friend's cheeks. He also took note of the dilation of John's pupils as he looked at Sherlock in the mirror. The detective knew he would be displaying these symptoms straight back at John. His heart began to race as a result of the close proximity.
"What do you see?" John's reflection raised a sceptical eyebrow at Sherlock before looking down at himself.
"I see a middle aged man who looks incredibly uncomfortable in what he is wearing and is terribly short. He has blonde hair with a few too many strands of grey and slightly tanned skin which looks weathered and dry due to too much time outside. He has wrinkles and has put on a few pounds in the last few months."
Sherlock stopped looking for grey hairs (he only found one) to instead scold the good doctor.
"You are just saying what you know now! That doesn't count as observation! How would you be able to know about the weight thing just from looking?!"
John just stood and stared at Sherlock's reflection before starting up again.
"Standing next to him is a handsome young man with an amazing bone structure who seems at home in a sharp suit. He is tall and thin and has gorgeously pale skin. Maybe a little too thin but he still looks good. His suit shows off the lines of his muscles. He is clearly fit and healthy. He looks young with next to no wrinkles unlike the man next to him and his bouncy ebony curls look soft and beautiful atop his head. His skin creates a luxurious contrast to his deep pink lips which are plump and kissable."
John fell into silence. Sherlock was turning a red colour as blood rushed to his cheeks.
They stood in silence staring at each other before the taller whispered, "Is kissable even a word?"
John turned around so he was facing the blushing detective, "I don't know but if it is then I just used it. If it's not then who cares?"
He wasn't thinking of the words that were coming out of his mouth. He was too focused on Sherlock's lips. His beautifully clever lips.
They both moved even closer to each other to close whatever distance there was between them. They pushed their lips together. John leaning his head up to meet Sherlock's lips. They were anxious and uncertain but with each second that went by they grew in confidence. John deepened the kiss despite being unsure of how Sherlock would react. Sherlock groaned into the kiss loving how it felt to have John kissing him.
When the taller man pulled away John nearly whimpered already missing the contact. Sherlock moved his mouth to John's ear and began to speak.
"What I can see it a good-looking, kind and caring man. Who doesn't know how irresistible he looks in a suit. Why do you think everyone was speechless as we walked in? It definitely wasn't me; they have seen me in many suits before. No, it was you. Not just because of the rarity of the situation but because you look bloody amazing. The suit is fitted perfectly to show off your slim but muscular figure. It shows every muscle, line and contour in your body. I see a man who not only looks totally incredible in a suit but is too modest to see that himself. He has short blonde hair that suits his face shape and I can only see one grey hair-"
"You need to get your eyes checked." John interrupted the praise as he was turning a shade of red that isn't to dissimilar to a tomato.
"I assure you, my eyes are perfectly fine. On the subject of eyes. His sparkle and show every emotion. They are so clear and deep. Absolutely stunning. He has barely any wrinkles for his age and the life style he lives. Chasing after criminals and getting shot at in a war zone are not the safest or the most stress free of professions. His delightful tanned skin tells the story of a brave time of fighting for his country. He manages to be kind and patient even though he lives with a really terrible flat mate. He clearly keeps himself, and his friends, in good shape which shows when he is wearing that suit. He is undeniably fuckable"
They stood in silence staring at each other before the shorter whispered, "Is fuckable even a word?"
Sherlock turned so that he was facing the blushing doctor and not his reflection, "I don't know but if it is then I just used it. If it's not then who cares?"
They stayed in silence before bursting out into giggles because of the repeated lines.
John reached up and took Sherlock's face in his hands. He pulled the man in for a passionate kiss. The detective wrapped his arms around his soldier's torso.
Luckily for them, John's bed was only meters behind them and they collapsed onto it refusing to release each other.
An hour later, Sherlock lay in John's arms as the both where drifting close to sleep. Expensive suits lay strewn upon the floor but they didn't care because a suit can always be ironed and dry cleaned but what they were sharing together was special. Neither of them had the heart to ruin the perfect moment.
"Do you think that you will be wearing a suit more often now?" Sherlock asked wearily. He was trying not to give in to his drooping eyelids although sleeping in John's arms was much more appealing then sleeping alone.
"If the outcome of me wearing a suit is this then most definitely." Sherlock smiled up at John before they both let sleep overcome them.