Notes: I got bored, so instead of shooting the wall relentlessly, I've decided to challenge myself with my first song-prompted fic collection. I cross my fingers and hope that my iPod will decide to be nice and not give me songs like 'The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins.' xD
It does occur to me that probably nobody knows what that song is...
I hope you like my first one. I don't own Sherlock, and I'll put the song title and artist at the beginning of each story.
Cover My Eyes by La Roux
The Woman wouldn't stop texting Sherlock; that Damned Woman, as John liked to refer to her. Of course, he'd never voice this nickname out loud. It was one thing to despise a person in your head, but once the derision was voiced, people would start to wonder why. Why hate her? Why feel that coiled frustration in his stomach every time her name was spoken?
Sometimes he felt that everyone must already know why. Certainly it was too obvious to keep a secret. Everyone made those little comments about him and Sherlock all the time; surely it was because they knew? Because those comments were true?
Another erotic moan filled the quiet room where he and the detective sat, making John wince. He wished Sherlock would change that bloody ringtone. It was vulgar.
"Are you going to answer her?" he asked, tired of hearing that Damned Woman's moaning all of the time.
"No," Sherlock replied coolly. This answer made John calm down a little, but he still couldn't help the image of Sherlock and that her in the same room from popping into his head. There she was, sitting on the couch. Naked. And he stared at her, too. John tried to tell himself that Sherlock only looked at the nude woman to try and gain information about her, but the possibility that he was just attracted to her wouldn't leave his mind.
He wasn't jealous. The only reason John loathed this woman's actions toward the detective was because he knew Sherlock deserved better than that rude woman. He deserved someone who treated him like the good man he was, not just another pretty face.
He wasn't jealous. John knew himself, and he knew he'd never let a pitiful emotion like envy get in his way. He was much more professional than that. In fact, it was for the professional side of him that he hated that Damned Woman. If she interfered with Sherlock and his life, the detective might not be as devoted to his work. Sherlock would get sidetracked and things would never get done; important mysteries would go unsolved. Yes, that was certainly it.
Another moan broke the silence, and John seriously considered taking Sherlock's phone and chucking it out the window.
Ok, perhaps he was a bit jealous.
He looked over, and Sherlock sighed quietly and took his phone out of his pocket. The bright screen illuminated his face, casting shadows around his sharp cheekbones. His eyes darted over the screen, and, much to John's surprise and irritation, one side of his mouth quirked up in a small smirk.
The fact that Irene Adler, that Damned Woman, made Sherlock smile made John almost sick to his stomach. He turned away, closing his eyes for a moment and trying not to feel too furious. When her suggestive tone sounded again, he clenched his teeth together. A familiar pang shot through him, and he didn't even bother trying to elude from what it was.
John Watson was very jealous.