The Unfortunate Adventures of a Straight Man
"That's a body."
"Yes, thank you John, for the obvious. Now can you please..."
"When you said you wanted my help to move something, you didn't say it was a body," John managed in a controlled manner. On anyone else, he would be blowing his top but with Sherlock he has learnt that the only way to get any answers out of his flatmate was to talk his way into getting one, even at the risk of being called stupid. Sherlock with all his intelligence in science in crime is still unable to comprehend that other people needed more than just a few glances, touching and smelling to understand what went on.
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Well, now you know what it is. So grab the legs will you?"
"I'm not going to - why are you carrying a body? Or better yet, where did you get it from?"
Sherlock made a face like a boy sulking when his mother found out he'd adopted a grass snake and was about to secret it into his room as a pet.
"I got it from Molly," Sherlock replied in an annoyed tone, "She has kindly lent it to me for a night when I told her I wanted to experiment in a non-controlled environment. A lab is hardly the place to do that. The legs, John."
The doctor groaned and after a few seconds, reluctantly bent down to pick up the other end of the bagged corpse. "I'd prefer it if she'd have given you another head instead. Why isn't she lending us a gurney to go along with body."
"They were out," the dark-haired man said in a disgruntled manner.
"Oh well..." John grunted as he and Sherlock maneuvered their way out into the back alley. "At least we have the body, eh?"
Sherlock smirked at John's attempt at humour. "Quite."
"So, where's the non-controlled environment will be then?" the blonde man asked.
"Our flat of course."
John instantly dropped the legs he was carrying, upsetting Sherlock's balance and nearly making the detective fall on top of the body.
"Absolutely not!" John protested, "It's fine with the head, and arms and eyeballs, but not a whole body Sherlock! I won't have our living quarters turned into a morgue!"
"Oh come on John," Sherlock began to argue, "One body is hardly enough to..."
Suddenly the detective stood stock still, his face tilted a little bit to the side as if listening to something John wasn't able to hear.
"What?" John said.
"It's the police," Sherlock murmured, putting down the body and began pushing it to the side in an attempt to hide it under the shadows, "They're earlier than scheduled. They've must've forgone their usual stop by the pie shop today. A diet perhaps."
"The police-" John's befuddled look suddenly turned on an alarmed one, "Sherlock! Don't tell me you stole the body! You lied about Molly lending it to you, didn't you!"
"Hush John, I did not!" Sherlock hissed, "Molly did promise to lend me the body. On the sly."
"Oh this is just fantastic!" the doctor growled looking around the area. The hospital kept their back alley clean and there were no well placed containers that they can hide the body behind "We're going to be arrested for body snatching and not only will we be indebted to Lestrade when or if he lets us out, the yarders will be fully convinced of your obsession with dead bodies!"
"Hardly an obsession. More like a passion-"
"This is not the time, Sherlock!"
"Kiss me."
"What?"
"I said, kiss me," the man said, stepping forward so quickly that John hit his back against the alley wall in his surprise.
"What..."
"Is your speech impaired?" Sherlock said, grabbing a hold of John's collar and making the doctor back away until his back was flush against the wall.
"Is your brain?" John shot back, trying to tug Sherlock's fingers away from his clothes, "I don't know how I've given you the impression that I like men-"
"Don't be so tedious," the detective scoffed, "This is merely a ruse. People will always focus on something they blatantly want to ignore that they will overlook everything else. Now kiss me or risk being sent to the cells."
John wanted to open his mouth to argue some more but as he was just about to do so, he saw the bonnet of the police car crawling its way out of the corner and in his panic, he grabbed Sherlock's face in both hands and put their mouths together. He went at it with such fervor that he hoped his anger could be mistaken for passion and if he accidentally made Sherlock cut his mouth with how hard he pressed his lips against the other man's it would be small punishment compared to what the detective made him go through at that moment.
"Ahem. Gentlemen. Take it elsewhere will you?"
John let Sherlock go but put his hands on the man's arms just as Sherlock's fingers dropped down to his shoulders.
"Yes, sorry officers."
The policemen gave the two another piercing look before they rolled off in their car to continue their rounds.
As soon as the police disappeared from view, John gave a relieved sigh before pushing Sherlock away, spitting and rubbing his mouth fervently.
"Oh God! I hate you!"
Sherlock rolled his eyes in disdain as he walked back to where he hid the body. "Oh please. I'm sure my mouth is more hygienic that Sarah's."
"It doesn't mean I want to kiss you!" John said, promising himself a thorough brush when they get back to their flat.
"Hah! So you do admit I'm -" Sherlock stopped his crowing to give a pained hiss.
"What's the matter now?"
"You cut my lip, you bastard."
John only smirked in response.
John is so much fun :) Thank you Val Kilmer & RDJ! I might want to put John into more situations like these.
