May I Jog Your Memory?

It wasn't enough that it was raining, John thought in annoyance- no, it wasn't enough, so it was raining and freezing and he was running across London with a madman. With a gasp of breath as he leapt across a rooftop, John thought numbly that this would make a good drill. Run down a crowded street, dodge cars. Keep the flapping black coat and wild hair in sight. Follow with swift feet, jump over obstacles. Grasp railing, throw yourself over the edge and onto the street below. Clamber up three flights of stairs, dodge steam shooting from pipes. Keep away from the bloodthirsty dogs, jump across a roof and onto an other one.

"Hurry!" Sherlock's suspiciously even tone broke through John's mechanical movements, the well-trained focus of a soldier. How the bloody hell is he not tired? John had to wonder whether below the dark coat and impossible skinny jeans Sherlock was just as strong as he. For god's sake, the man is thinner than a girl and barely eats or sleeps- what is he, some sort of vampire?

As John jumped down from the stairs they'd just descended, he heard the screeching of tires behind him in the narrow alley. A blast of wind threw newspapers into the air as a taxi sped by, the man inside glaring at John for the briefest of moments. John's first instinct was to pull out his gun, but the thought was quickly squelched by the obvious fact that the man would die and Sherlock would be annoyed- not to mention the people that might be hurt when the car crashed.

So instead, John's eyes darted to the license plate and he caught flashes of the numbers and letters as the man escaped. Barely a moment later, Sherlock descended from the roof, frustration and annoyance clearly written across his face.

"He took a taxi," John said quickly, slipping the gun back into its place quietly.

"Taxi- oh, I hate taxis," Sherlock said in disgust, adjusting his faded scarf before a sudden flash of enlightenment illuminated his face. I swear, I never get tired of seeing that.

"John! The license plate, John! Do you remember it?" Sherlock strode forward, grabbing John's head in a eerily familiar way, spinning him around. Oh, yes. This again. Well, I haven't got a picture this time, but.

"Sherlock, I-,"

"Think, think clearly! Imagine it, see it in your mind!"

"I know, I know! Just let me-,"

"Picture- you did take a picture?"

"NO, I didn't have time- look, just let me-,"

John was abruptly cut off as his head was roughly propelled forward, only to meet the surprising warmth of Sherlock's lips.

Oh. Ohmygodwhatisthis. How is it-wow, this feels good-

What. Wait. What. What?

It was over all too soon as Sherlock backed away, blue-grey eyes darker than John had ever seen them.

"Do. You. Remember?" Sherlock held out a pen and scrap of newspaper, which John hadn't even seen him pick up, and waited patiently- yes, patiently- for John to write something down.

Oh my god. I remember.

As soon as Sherlock took the paper, a self-satisfied grin appeared on his face and John felt the bottom of his stomach drop out.

"Well, I didn't expect that to work! I think it was a very successful experiment, don't you, John?"


AHAHAHALOLWOW. This was inspired by ~Sash-kash on deviantArt, whose hilarious comic spurred me to write once again. Thanks to Sash! Go look for 'Two Birds with One Kiss' on Sash's deviantArt account, please! I would not send you if it weren't amazingly awesome and hilarious!

As always, Read and Review! I love you~! 3