A/N: This is actually part of a small series, but it can be read as a stand alone. The main story is called Available, and it follows Sherlock and John's antics through school at St Bart's. If you like it, please review, it feeds my writing machine!
John Watson, Captain of the rugby team, does have muscles. Her thighs are rock hard as she runs after Sherlock. Her biceps flex as she tackles the kleptomaniac to the ground. Her shoulders bunch under her tank top. If Sherlock notices these things, it's for scientific purpose, not because her girlfriend is extremely hot.
"Sherlock? Did you call the police." John asks, looking up now that the young boy is firmly secured. Sherlock digs her phone out of her pocket and hits the number 3 speed dial.
"I am now." John sighs and rolls her eyes, but she's smirking at Sherlock's antics.
"Next time I'm not letting you out the door until I've made sure you've told them everything." Sherlock's eyes darken, but John's focus is back on the squirming man beneath her. Sherlock would love to be in his position right now. The DI finally picks up as John looks up and catches Sherlock's eye. She smirks.
"Shut up." Sherlock says. "No, not you, why would I call you just to say 'shut up'?" John snorts from her seat atop the criminal. Sherlock glares.
"I dunno, it seems like something you might do." Lestrade answers. "What do you need? I'm kinda busy at the moment, so make it quick."
"I've got a small time thief who was stealing out of my ballet bag. In my flat." Lestrade winces. "Yes, I quite agree, I'm not the best person to take from."
"Wait, how'd they get out of your flat if you were at the door? You do have one entrance, right?" Sherlock can hear him scratching his stubble. He always did that when he was confused. Predictable.
"John and I wanted a bit of fun."
"Sherlock!" Lestrade hisses. "The criminal masses are not meant for you to play tag with. Where are you?" Sherlock gives their location and hangs up.
"That was tedious. Why do I bother?"
"Because I can't keep this guy down and kiss you at the same time. And 'John and I wanted a bit of fun'? Really?"
"We were both bored, that's why you didn't catch him on the way out."
"I didn't catch him because you pushed me out of the way."
"Yes, that too." Both girls turned at the sound of sirens. "Our help arrives."
"Behave." John stressed. Sherlock nodded absent-mindedly, already composing a speech in her head of the various inadequacies of the Yard. "I mean it, Sherlock, otherwise no head massages when we get home." Sherlock snapped her head around to stare at John.
"But-"
"No exceptions. Behave." Sherlock closed her mouth and stalked towards the young officer.
"This boy snuck into my flat while I was out with John, somewhere around," Sherlock checked her phone. "3:57. He slipped past us and made a run for it. Unfortunately for him, John's captain of the rugby team. Excellent tackle, by the way." John smiled at the compliment and handed the thief over to the cop. "She kept him restrained while I called Lestrade, so here he is. You're welcome, goodbye." Sherlock spun on her heel and headed back to their flat.
"Sorry about her, she's... Well, she's Sherlock." John apologized. The poor girl didn't look any less confused. "If Lestrade has questions, he'll call us, don't worry." She smiled reassuringly.
"Come, John." Sherlock called from a few paces away. John nodded at the officer and jogged to catch up with her girlfriend. For the second time that day, they made their way home.
"John. Sit with me." Sherlock demanded as soon as they opened the door. John learnt quickly that this meant Sherlock wanted her hair played with. John didn't mind at all.
"Alright, alright. Just let me use the loo first." John didn't want to be stuck under the world's only consulting detective while she had to pee.
"Fine." Sherlock grumbled and flopped on the sofa. John winced at the groan it let out. If Sherlock didn't stop acting like that thing was bloody indestructible, it was going to snap.
Once in the washroom, John used the toilet and washed her hands. Looking in the mirror, she admired her biceps. They had grown since the beginning of the year, and she was proud of them. However, she wasn't proud of her stomach. She dried her hands and lifted her shirt. No matter how much she did sit-ups or crunches or planks, she still had a bit of fat around her tummy. She squeezed at it and poked it, as if that would do anything. She sighed and tensed her abs. Nothing. She was strong, dammit, she should have abs! She looked down at her body. Maybe the mirror was lying? Nope. Still no abs. Suddenly a pair of arms snaked around from behind her.
"You were taking too long. Allow me to remind you that your abdomen is perfect, and you should join me in the living room." Sherlock placed a light kiss on her neck.
"I just wish-"
"No." John was surprised by the vehemence in her statement. "I love your stomach, you know why? It's just like a pillow." Sherlock ran her hands slowly over John's ribs and slid them down slowly. "Warm. Soft. Nice. It's a most amazing spot to rest my head and," Sherlock started bringing her hands back up from her hipbones to her belly button. There, she stopped. "I would love any part of you anyway, like you love any part of me." Silent tears came from John's eyes.
"Oh, Sherlock." She choked.
"Did I do something wrong? Why are you crying, John?" Sherlock asked in alarm. John giggled and wiped the wetness from her cheeks.
"You did everything exactly right. Let's sit on the couch so I can play with your hair and you can rest your head on my tummy pudge." Sherlock smiled and kissed behind John's ear. Then her hand grabbed John's and they made their way to the sofa.
"Lie here." Sherlock instructed, letting John lay down and get comfortable before lowering herself down onto John's legs. Then Sherlock scooched up so that her head was on John's tum. She curled her legs in and pulled an afghan over the two of them. For the first few minutes, both girls moved, trying to find the right spot. When they eventually settled, John's fingers went into Sherlock's curls and Sherlock began to kiss John's middle, from her lowest ribs to the edge of her pubic hair and back again. John sighed and smiled, happy with the partner she had chosen years ago in chemistry class at Bart's.