It's short, without any deeper meaning and I came up with it while watching the first episode of Sherlock for the seventh time or so. But read for yourself and enjoy!
First published: 07.04.2013
As a matter of principle
Sherlock had behaved strangely lately. Well, he never behaved normally, but John meant even stranger than usual. In regard to him. But that right now just went too far.
„Sherlock, what are you doing?", he asked, staring at the lips that had come dangerously close to his own.
„I was going to kiss, wasn't that obvious?" replied Sherlock without batting an eye or even moving an inch.
„Yes, Sherlock. But why?" He rolled his eyes. Of course, that had been clear.
Although in Sherlock's case one never knew. What was he actually thinking about? He was allowed to raise objections if Sherlock was about to kiss him against his will.
„Haven't you noticed that I developed an interest in you? I thought not even you could be stupid enough to not understand my hints."
Sherlock definitely knew how to create a mood. Moreover, how was he supposed to be certain of anything regarding Sherlock? What did he know, what was going on in his weird head? If it had been a ordinary person he would have understood the signs.
Maybe it had been an experiment. Perhaps Sherlock hadn't known what he was doing. Okay well, the possibility that Sherlock didn't know what he was doing was unlikely. Maybe it had been something else. Regarding Sherlock you couldn't be sure of anything.
„I thought you were married to your work?" he tried a more or less witty response.
He still wasn't sure what this situation meant.
And he almost slapped Sherlock as he replied deadly serious:
„Then be my concubine."
He was really about to beat him in the face.
„Are you kidding me, Sherlock?!" John yelled appalled. The anger was written all over his face. Sherlock cared relatively little. Not at all to be exact.
„You know, I am good-looking, John. What is your problem?"
Besides the fact that he wasn't gay, not interested in Sherlock and a lot of other things? He was not to be kissed right now.
„Why so modest, Sherlock?", he asked, because he couldn't deny Sherlock's good looks.
„What does that matter anyway?", John said visibly upset when he realized that he somehow had lost control of the situation.
Sherlock's patience seemed to subside slowly.
„My goodness, John, can I kiss you now or not?"
„Oc course not!"
But he had just finished the sentence as he felt two soft lips on his and two gentle hands gently pushing him against the wall.
Sherlock's kiss was far more passionate than John would have expected, if he had expected it.
And the wall behind him suddenly became quite handy because of the fierce pair of lips.
Searching for support he leaned against it and hooked at Sherlock's shirt as his tongue demandingly begged for entrance.
To hell with it, where had Sherlock learned to kiss like that?
He surrendered and allowed Sherlock's lips to rob him of all reason.
Which didn't mean he was going to overlook the incident after they broke away from each other breathing heavily.
„What was that?", he rebelled and his hand began to twitch dangerously when he saw Sherlock's Come-on-look.
„Did you really think I would listen to you?" And now this Don't-be-like-that-you-also-liked-it-look. To hell with it!
„Why do you even ask?", John asked with resignation.
Sherlock grinned at him, seemingly amused.
„As a matter of principle."
John sighed. Would he ever witness a day on which he wouldn't want to beat Sherlock up?
He had always known Sherlock would put his entire wold view upside down, but never had he thought to this extent.
But he accepted it. What apparently everyone had understood before him, now even Sherlock.
Really everybody except him. He gave up.
„Join me in the bedroom, John?" Sherlock asked and began to nibble at John's neck.
„Do I have a choice?"
He could feel Sherlock grinning, before his fingers began to unbutton John's shirt.
„No."
John smiled a little bit before Sherlock managed to ruin the mood again.
„You are certainly a wonderful concubine."
Speechless John stared at Sherlock.
„You know, Sherlock, sometimes I really wish I could give you a fine beating."
Sherlock looked at him in earnest irritation.
„Why?"
John sighed and allowed that Sherlock pulled him to the bed and went on to fumble with his shirt buttons.
„On principle. Simply as a matter of principle, Sherlock."
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