My most recent idea and I actually finished it... even if I really need to finish up some scenes for my AGoS fic (I have so many ideas, I feel bad I only have one chapter up so far). Not to mention that this is shameless fluff. I never thought I'd see the day. Also, this is my first serious attempt at something slightly humorous so it was quite the challenge to still keep these two IC. I hope I succeeded though.

This idea was inspired by and based on an amazing drawing by Schimmelbrot on DeviantArt. You can find it over here (it's heavily recommended that you take a look at it before or after reading this fic, because 1. it's an awesome drawing and 2. this fic wouldn't have been written if it wasn't for this really awesome drawing): fav . me/d4k9nc6

Hope you enjoy this little snippet (even if it turned out longer than I planned) and reviews are loved and very much appreciated. :)

"Hm… Watson…"

"What is it, Holmes?"

"Do you ever find your mind… wandering?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know. You're just sitting, reading something, and then your mind starts to think of other… things."

"I suppose I'm familiar with the concept. Why? Something occupying your crazy thoughts?"

"Now now, no need to get offensive."

"I'm not insulting you, just stating the obvious."

"Fair enough."

A small silence fell between them.

"Holmes."

"Hm?"

"What's bothering you?"

"There's nothing bothering me."

"Then what was that all about?"

"I'm curious."

"As to what?"

"Never you mind."

A rustling of the newspaper signalled his annoyance.

"Fine. Suit yourself."

"Don't be like that."

"Like what?"

"Like this."

"What's this?"

"You know."

"Holmes, for the love of god, you're being even more of a nuisance than usual. Out with it."

"I can't."

He blinked at this answer. Holmes sounded very much like he was lost in his thoughts, but the look he was giving him was very... determined?

"Stop staring at my face."

"I'm not staring at your face."

"Yes you are, and I want you to cut it out."

"What do you care if I'm staring at your face?"

"You just said you weren't!"

"What if I were."

A groan of displeasure escaped from his lips. "I really truly do not get why I put up with you," he mumbled as he put the paper in front of him, blocking Holmes' supposed staring.

"That seems a bit harsh."

"What?"

"Really truly. It's not like I'm that much of a bother."

"Yes you are."

"Really? I had no idea."

"Like hell you don't."

"I said I didn't. Now I do."

"I've been telling you for years that you're an absolute pain in the arse and now you choose to listen?"

"I never thought you meant it."

An invisible sigh.

"I don't."

"Really?"

"Truly."

Hiding behind the newspaper he failed to notice the small smile playing on the detective's face.

A few minutes went by and he was still reading – even if his thoughts were not exactly with the articles in front of him; he was still very much puzzled by Holmes' sudden inquiries – but then a sudden feeling hit him.

It was too quiet.

He slowly lowered the paper, looking ominously over the edge, and Holmes came into view.

Stare still directed at his face.

"Oh for crying out loud. Just tell me what it is already."

"I told you, I can't."

"Why?"

Holmes didn't answer, just seemed to fidget.

"Holmes, either you tell me or I'm going out."

"Why?"

"I believe I just asked you the same question. And if you're not going to answer mine, I'm not answering yours."

"Fine."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"Must be a really big secret then if you're still not willing to part with it."

Holmes merely huffed.

He set the paper down on the side table and got up. "Alright then. Have yourself a pleasant evening."

"You too. Be sure to give my best to that lady you fancy at the liquor store."

"I'm not going to – I don't fancy her!"

"We both know I'm right."

"No."

"You don't know?"

"No, you're wrong."

"Highly unlikely."

Watson shook his head. Putting on his coat he looked outside at the snow falling down on London. Holmes followed his gaze.

"It's cold outside."

"Well, yes, that happens to be the case when there's snow falling from the sky, Holmes."

"I'm just saying. No need to be snarky. I wouldn't want you to catch a cold; you could infect me."

"And god forbid anything should happen to the great Sherlock Holmes."

He finished putting a scarf around his neck and turned around in search of his bowler hat. He sighed in desperation as his eyes focused on Holmes, the desired object in his hands.

"Give me my hat."

"Are you sure you want to go outside? The streets are slippery, you could really hurt yourself."

"I think I'll be fine."

"I'm not so sure."

"Holmes, if you don't want me to leave, just tell me what's bothering you."

"I told you, nothing's bothering me."

"Then you leave me no choice."

He attempted to take his belongings, but Holmes held it just out of his reach. Watson stretched his arm, but so did he – the man was truly impossible sometimes.

He walked around the chair, but just as he was about to retrieve his rightful property Holmes swiftly cast it across the room.

"Are you quite done yet?"

"I suppose."

"I'll be back in half an hour."

And so – after he collected his hat – he left. Holmes spent the entire time alternating between mulling over the thought that was still roaming through his head and checking the clock to see how much longer he would be gone. It wasn't until five seconds before he heard the door open downstairs that he finally settled on his next course of action.

"You're late," he said as he entered the room.

Watson cast a quick glance at the clock. "Only six minutes."

"Thirty-six minutes is not half an hour. That's three fifths of an hour."

"Fine. Next time I go to the liquor store I'll tell you I'll be back in three fifths of an hour."

"Don't be ridiculous. No one says that."

"You just did!"

"That's how I know. No one in their right mind would say that."

"Still not willing to share your secret, huh?"

"That's right."

"Alright then. Don't say it. Either way, I don't care."

He chuckled. "I'm not that easy to manipulate, Watson. You of all people should know that."

Watson raised his eyebrows as he took off his hat, making sure to put it someplace Holmes wouldn't be able to reach it.

"Oh I'm not trying to manipulate you at all, dear friend. While outside I just had some time to think – and it occurred to me, why would I try to get you to tell me something you clearly don't want me to know? I would be an awful friend if I kept prying, now would I."

"Glad you see my point."

Watson looked aside, smirking at the slightly dissatisfied look on his face as his eyes were for once not locked onto him.

"You can't stand it, do you."

"Not one bit."

"Last chance. What's on your mind?"

Holmes lightly bit his bottom lip, gesturing for him to come closer. Slightly confused Watson complied, covering the remaining distance between them until he was facing him head on.

"You know..." he murmured, looking up into his eyes, "there's just this one thing that I can't seem to figure out."

"What is it?"

"It's silly."

"I don't care."

The man in front of him seemed a bit uncertain. This really piqued his interest, and as such he brought up his hands to rest them on his shoulders.

"Just tell me what it is. I won't laugh, I promise."

Apparently this provided him with just the courage he needed, because he tugged gently on his scarf and whispered, "I haven't been able to deduce whether your lips are as soft as they seem."

Before Watson had a chance to respond, he leaned in and lightly brushed his lips against his own.

He'd never given it much thought, but the second he registered that Holmes was actually kissing him, he had to faintly admit that he'd wondered the same thing too. He didn't know about his own, but Holmes' lips were indefinitely softer than he'd ever imagined them to be. Always the strong, masculine detective, one might think that he was incapable of gentle acts – but right now he was proving that his already immense skill set was even bigger than he'd thought.

All too soon he pulled away, if only a few inches, seemingly trying to collect his thoughts. Slightly breathless – whether it was from nervousness or because he had to restrain himself from resuming their previous actions, he didn't know – he just stood there, eyes still closed, hands not letting go of his scarf.

"Holmes?"

He didn't answer, but he could swear he faintly heard his breath hitch in his throat.

He gently brought up a hand to cup his cheek. At this his eyes flew open, brown irises locking onto blue.

"What... what was that?"

"Just... a little experiment to verify my expectations," he breathed. "I... I do apologize, Watson."

"What? Holmes, there's no need to apologize..."

He expected the detective to retreat any moment now, but seconds passed and he still stayed where he stood, breathing the same air he did. Watson didn't know how he pulled it off, to stay this close to him and not lean in again, but somehow he managed.

The kiss had been so chaste, so sweet – it just felt so completely and utterly right. He'd kissed women over the course of his life, and doing so had always brought forth a certain desire – but this, he couldn't wish for anything more than this. The brief, light touch of soft lips to his made him feel perfectly content.

"You've performed some strange experiments over the years, Holmes, but I must say that this must be the most ridiculous of all."

"Well, yes, I couldn't very well perform this one on Gladstone, now could I."

Watson hadn't worried about possibly insulting him – the detective's eyes had lit up at the barely masked grin on his features as he spoke the words.

"I hope you're satisfied with the results."

"Hm..."

"What?"

"You know, Watson, for an experiment to truly prove one's hypothesis, it needs to be repeated. The outcome has to be duplicated for it to be of any use."

"Holmes, I assure you, the softness of my lips," he emphasized with a mocking look on his face, "won't change overnight."

"One needs proof, not assumptions."

He couldn't stop the grin from fully breaking through. Even with a subject as potentially dangerous – and exciting – as this, things were just so easy between them.

"And what purpose would this proof serve? I can't imagine any scientific journal willing to publish an article on the experience of –"

He vaguely noticed the strain on his scarf, forcing him to lower his head before he got cut short. Holmes had leaned in again ever so slightly, effectively silencing him as he pressed their lips together once more. This time he was more dominant, even if his actions could still only be described as gentle and affectionate.

It took longer than the first time for them to break apart, and Watson felt the fire inside him stir hungrily. But before he could reach up to tangle his fingers in Holmes' untidy hair and pull him closer, he felt hands resting on his chest. He opened his eyes to a smile on the face in front of him, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"I think that should be enough for today."

Watson blinked, feeling a short but very strong surge of disappointment shoot through his body. Obviously Holmes noticed, because he raised one of his hands to touch his cheek – much in the same way as Watson had done earlier – and brushed his thumb halfway across his lower lip.

"Don't worry," he said, his voice slightly hoarse. "I intend to verify my findings sooner rather than later."

"Right," he whispered, then coughing as to force his voice to return back to normal. "Right," he repeated in a louder tone. He turned around and attempted to walk away from him, feeling his cheeks burning slightly – he could still feel Holmes' fingers grazing his skin – but a strong hand grabbed his wrist and he came to a halt.

Turning around, eyebrow raised, he looked him in the eye.

"Now what?"

Holmes' grip wasn't firm, just slightly compelling. He met his gaze instantly.

"If it's alright with you."

Watson opened his mouth to protest, ask him why it wouldn't be, but he just settled on smiling and reassuring his friend.

"It is."

"Really? Because I would feel selfish to use you for my experiments when you're not experiencing the thrill of obtaining satisfying results the way I do."

He gently withdrew his arm. Holmes didn't let go, instead following the movement and stepping closer to him again.

"Trust me," he said, his eyes lighting up upon focusing on the brown ones. "Taking part in your experiments provides a certain thrill as well."

Holmes smirked and released the other man, allowing Watson to finally distance himself from him.

"And who knows," he called over his shoulder as he proceeded to take off his winter garments – for one reason or another it had become quite warm in their apartment on this chilly winter day.

He missed the light blush creeping up Holmes' face at his following statement.

"Perhaps I can think up some… experiments of my own."