Ok so I wrote this like two weeks ago but I hadn't gotten around to typing it till now (but i'm pretty sure u don't need to be Sherlock Holmes to figure that out). I'm the kind of person that has to post immediately or I will hate my story. So I'm kind of at the point where I no longer like this fanfic but I know that I really liked it when I first wrote it, so I just decided to post it anyway. This was loosely based off of If I Had You by Adam Lambert, and when I say loosely based off, I mean that I listened to it on repeat for the entire time that I wrote this fic.
Anyway I do not own Sherlock (and I'm pretty sure you don't even have to be Anderson to figure that out!)
John examined himself in his bedroom mirror. He wasn't much to look at; regular black pants, with a dress shirt and tie. He wondered if it was appropriate for a engagement party, but then again it wasn't a regular engagement party. John decided that this would have to do and he made his way downstairs to the sitting room. He put on his coat and checked his watch.
- "Sherlock!" he yelled down the hall. "If we don't leave now we're going to miss your brother and Lestrade's bachelor party, and they would never forgive us." There was silence for a moment and then the bedroom door opened. John's jaw hit the floor. Sherlock had, for the occasion, ditched his regular plain suit, and was wearing the skinniest jeans John had ever seen. With this he wore a skin tight white shirt and a leather vest that was unbuttoned. Sherlock marched sulkily from his room, shrugged on his coat and walked out the door. John, stared wide eyed after him. He stood immobile, unable to move his feet. Sherlock's head popped back into the room.
- "I thought you said we were late." he saw John nod and he strode down the stairs, smirking. He had noticed (of course) John staring, and for some reason, it made him happy.
In the cab, an awkward silence hung in the air. John was bursting at the seam with questions. Sherlock noted this but waited a couple minutes before answering the unspoken questions.
- "The outfit is a distraction. I'm on a case."
- "At your brother's engagement party?" questioned John.
- "Yes. Lestrade contacted me this morning. There is a murderer who has been hunting in bars. He has his way with his victims and then murders them. We believe his next hunting ground is the bar where my dear brother is celebrating his engagement to our DI friend."
- "You know it's a he?"
- "We're assuming." said Sherlock looking out the window. "The victims are a mix of male and female but mostly the latter."
- "Ok, but I still don't understand where this outfit comes into play." John gestured towards Sherlock.
- "Beside each body is engraved SH; my initials. The murderer is looking for me. I plan to distract him, lure him away from the crowd, corner, capture and question him." Sherlock said as if it was the most straightforward and normal thing in the world. They could have been discussing the weather.
- "Are you insane?" blurted John. "What if he tries to kill you?"
- "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself." said Sherlock hotly.
- "Any idea who this man is?"
- "None."
- "Know what he looks like?"
- "No idea."
- "So you're basically going into this without knowing anything." John asked appalled and exasperated.
- "Oh no, I do know one thing." Sherlock said turning to look at John for the first time. "Thanks to you, I know that my distraction works." he winked at John, who was very glad to be sitting down. He wasn't sure his shaky legs could hold him up.
Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade greeted them as they entered. How the engaged had even gotten together was still a mystery to both the doctor and consulting detective. However, they were happy for them, and they were both best man; John for Lestrade and Sherlock for Mycroft. Sherlock shrugged off his coat and his brothers eyebrows rose, but he didn't pry. Greg gave Sherlock an understanding look and they nodded at each other, communicating the plan telepathically. John went off to invite Anthea for a dance and Sherlock took a seat at the bar. After declining a drink from the bartender, he scanned the crowd, like a bird looking for his prey. He saw Anderson and Sally dancing, Molly and another DI talking, and Mycroft and Lestrade making out in a corner. Sherlock quickly averted his eyes and wondered if he could wash out the memory by pouring bleach down his ear. He searched the crowd for the face he wanted, but nobody fit the description. Sherlock's eyes found John who was now dancing with Molly. They seemed to be having a good time, smiling and laughing at something John had just said. Sherlock felt an unpleasant hollow pit in his stomach that he didn't recognize at first. He quickly identified it as jealousy. But why was he jealous? He held no romantic feelings towards his flatmate, at least that he was aware of. However he could not ponder the situation and longer because at that moment, a woman walked in. And not just any woman. The Woman.
John had been dancing pleasantly with Molly, when she was suddenly pushed aside and Sherlock took her place. John's eyebrows rose to his hairline.
- "What the hell-"
- "John I need you to dance with me. I'll explain later-" Sherlock said something else but as the song changed to one with a faster, louder beat, his words were drowned out. Sherlock hesitated slightly but then began dancing around John. It wasn't enough. Sherlock could see Irene approaching swiftly. In desperation, he grabbed John and pulled him closer so that their bodies were flush together.
John was at a complete loss. What had started as innocent dancing had turned into not so innocent almost grinding. And John was ashamed to admit that he was enjoying it. He had admitted it to himself a long time ago; he was attracted to Sherlock Holmes. But he had never quite fully registered it until now. He had pushed it away, dating more women, convincing himself that it was just because he was spending too much time with his flatmate. But now it was here, slapping him in the face: he was madly in love with Sherlock Holmes. And he had no idea why it had taken so long to figure out.
It still wasn't working. Irene was less than five feet away. So Sherlock did what was necessary. He grabbed the back of John's head and he smashed their lips together.
John and Sherlock both pulled back at the same time. They were both in a complete daze. John couldn't even remember what they were doing in this place, and Sherlock had forgotten that he had kissed John for a reason. However he was quickly reminded when he saw Irene Adler stop abruptly, her face filling with fury and turning her back, running away.
Sherlock had quickly pulled John outside in a side street, away from the loud music and staring faces. He started pacing, his mind racing a hundred miles a second. John leaned against the wall panting, his eyes following Sherlock's pacing figure. Finally John broke the silence.
- "What the bloody hell was that?" Sherlock didn't stop pacing. "Sherlock!" screamed John. Sherlock turned to him breathing heavily.
- "What John?" he looked rather ticked off.
- "Could you please just explain what's going on?" John said softly as his anger drained away.
- "Irene Adler, she's the murderer."
- "What?" said John mouth agape. "But she's dea - I mean in America." he amended quickly.
- "Oh shut up John, I know that she was sentenced to be beheaded. I saved her." he said, deflecting the topic with a flick of his hand.
- "Why... how... nevermind Sherlock, how do you know she's the murderer?"
- "She was in the bar. I had to get rid of her, that's why I kissed you." said Sherlock. The way John's face fell and his blush didn't go unnoticed to Sherlock who turned to him. Unbeknownst to John, he too had had a revelation in that bar.
- "But," Sherlock said advancing so he was right in front of John, "that's not why I'm kissing you now." and he placed his lips once more on his doctor's. They both melted into the kiss, Sherlock pinning John against the wall while John tugged at Sherlock's hair.
- "Oh dear," came a voice behind them and they both turned around startled. Mycroft stood there, a pale faced Greg beside him, "please don't tell me that we're going to have to have a double wedding."