Stand-alone, short, fluffy, smutty JohnLock :D
Reviews and feedback always welcome and much appreciated :P
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Part 1
09.58am - John. – SH
10.02 – JOHN - SH
10.04 – John? - SH
10.07 – John I need you. – SH
10.10 - John? – SH
The doctor settled into the half-full cafeterias' wobbly chair with a sigh, taking out his phone. He had felt it vibrating insistently a few hours ago, but sitting in the front row of the medical conference, he figured that it wasn't quite the done thing to take it out and pander to (no doubt) Sherlocks' (no doubt) childish requests.
The grubby chrome and plastic of the table was pleasantly cool under his forearms. The searing early-afternoon sunlight lancing languidly through a nearby window made his blue eyes wince and his skin prickle with heat. The sticky high temperatures currently smothering Britain seemed to be particularly virulent here in Manchester, and he wondered how the cold-blooded Sherlock was faring back in London.
He read his outstanding texts and grinned to himself. Dialling Sherlock, he huffed with laughter at the response he got.
"Prefer to text," the baritone voice said abruptly over the slightly crackly line, before the connection ended.
Whats up Sherlock Ive only been gone since this morning– JW
I love you. – SH
John grinned foolishly, before typing a teasing reply.
Is that why you prefer to text? So you dont have to say it out loud – JW
In seconds, his phone rang, and he waited before answering it casually.
"Yes, Sherlock?"
"I love you." Without further ado, Sherlock ended the call. John rubbed a hand across his mouth in an ostensibly thoughtful pose, but he was simply trying to disguise the beaming smile on his face. It was true that since they had become a couple, Sherlock had surprised them both by revealing an affectionate and romantic side that neither of them had previously suspected he possessed. He was also quickly proving himself to be a singularly insatiable sexual being. Sherlock's utter lack of subtlety, tact and self-consciousness often led to the type of proclamations that made John flush with pride but more often than not, with embarrassment, since Sherlock usually decided that the absolute best time to announce that he was 'going to suffocate if I can't get you into bed with me right now,' or that he was 'hard enough to cut diamonds,' was typically at a blood-splattered crime scene, or when they were having tea chéz Mrs. Hudson, or most memorably, at a press conference where Sherlock had aggressively commandeered Lestrade's microphone to announce to John in front of a room full of press that if he could persuade the police to 'speed up these infinitely dull proceedings', that he would make it worth his while, and by the way did he know that he had handcuffs and baby oil in his pocket right now.
Why don't you come home – SH
Its only two more days – JW
I have a present for you – happy 365 days – SH
This was a surprise. Sherlock was notoriously bad at remembering things like birthdays (including his own), let alone buying gifts in honour of the occasion. John had put his foot down last Christmas, insisting that Sherlock really owed Molly a card at least, as she was bound to overspend on some lavish gift for him in a misguided attempt to gain his affection. Sherlock had left the flat in a grump, shoplifted the most un-festive card he could find (for some reason the card's cover had a photograph of a saucepan of boiled eggs on it), and given it, blank, to Molly without writing so much as his own name inside it.
Tomorrow though, it was their one-year-anniversary, and John was frankly astounded that the detective was aware of this fact.
Ill believe that when I see it – JW
Believe it – SH
John's own gift to Sherlock was, he felt, suitably engrossing and was bound to arouse the quirky detective's interest, if only for a little while, which was really all he could ask for. And 'engrossing' really was the only positive term he could logically apply to the bizarre present. The 'gross' part was particularly apt. He knew Sherlock would like it though, and that was all that mattered. It was currently being kept at his sister's flat, knowing that Sherlock would have rooted it out like a dog to a truffle if it had remained in 221B.
He knew for a fact that Sherlock would never willingly have anything to do with his sister. The first and only time they had met, they had got on like a house on fire. That is to say, a devastatingly combustive blaze resulting in bitter-tasting ashes and treacherous, white-hot rubble. Harry had split Sherlock's lip and he had in turn given her a quick right hook and a black eye before John managed to separate the snarling pugilists in time to promise himself that he would never leave them alone together again. A few minutes to make three cups of tea was apparently long enough for Sherlock to spit out a few acidic deductions and for Harry's foul-mouthed temper to rage up.
Cant you come back tomorrow – SH
John sighed, smiling.
Ill see what I can do. Are you behaving? – JW
…yes – SH
What have you done – JW
…nothing – SH
Something illegal? – JW
Not this time – SH
…this time? – JW
have to go the skunks escaped – SH
And that was the last John heard from Sherlock for a few hours. After his lunch, he headed back to the conference, settling in his front-row seat and preparing to try and force wakefulness through the afternoon's talks on Alzheimer's breakthroughs and age-related macular degeneration.
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PS the boiled egg card is real and from Marks and Spencers. XD