Disclaimer: Not mine. I adore Sherlock. Really I do but neither he nor any of his associates (I call them friends) belong to me.
Appropriate Uses of His Time
Sherlock glanced over at the man seated beside him on the grass. John was lying with his eyes closed and his breathing even. He'd fallen asleep. Unless he was faking, which was a possibility. John was very good at faking being asleep. But he'd have no reason to fake it now. So logic said he was asleep for real.
Sherlock had always liked to watch John sleep. John was so unguarded and open when he slept. And he looked so very young. The lines of stress that begun to appear only a few years ago with the death of his parents faded out and left his face smooth. It felt good to see his face that way. As though the sorrow and stress of life could not reach him in his dreams.
Sherlock let himself fall back to his back beside him. He didn't mind that John had fallen asleep. He liked it when John was happy. John was happy when he was sleeping. So he would let him sleep and he would lie beside him and enjoy the silence and comfort. John wouldn't sleep forever after all. They could talk about things later.
He closed his eyes and focused on John's breathing. Watching the clouds was boring without John to make his funny little comments about them. Listening to John breathe was a much better use of his time.
His eyes blinked open as a thought occurred to him and he turned on his side to face the older man. Watching John was an excellent use of his time. Always had been and it helped that it was one of his favorite activities. John was interesting. Asleep of awake didn't matter. John was always interesting.
Sherlock ignored the passage of time as he cataloged the plains and angles of his beloved's face. He would never actually call John that. Not out loud. John would be embarrassed. But it was how he thought of the older man. John was his beloved. His to love. His to be. His to hold. It was only sensible that his thoughts combined the feelings into the one word.
Without his consent his fingers reached out and sought the hair on John's head. He didn't mind. His fingers could do as they liked with John. They always had anyway. Mummy said that he'd been reaching for John since he was two days old and he had no intention of stopping anytime soon. John would always be there to reach for anyway. John always met his grasping hands. Always.
"Sh'lock?" John's voice was muzzy with sleep and his hazel eyes were foggy when they flickered open.
"Mm," Sherlock hummed as his fingers petted John's hair. "Did I wake you?" He asked quietly.
"Mmhm," John shrugged, his shoulders scraping along the grass. "I don't mind though. Didn't mean to fall asleep." One of his arms stretched out to grasp Sherlock's free hand. "I'm sorry."
Sherlock's lips turned down in a frown. "Don't be, John. I like watching you sleep. You know that. Besides, you needed the rest."
John's fingers rubbed over the back of Sherlock's hand in idle patterns as he smiled a little. "Still would rather spend the time with you, Sherlock." He smiled a bit wider when Sherlock opened his mouth. "And aware to know I'm doing so," he cut the younger man off before he could make his comment.
Sherlock smirked at him. His fingers continued to run through John's short hair and he simply stared down at John. "Do you know…I think you must be one of the most aesthetically pleasing specimens of the male gender I've ever had the pleasure to observe?" Sherlock fought back the flush that his own words conjured. He wasn't a man given to sentiment but John seemed to bring the mushiness out of him.
John blinked as his brain processed the words and then a light blush fanned out across his cheeks even as they dimpled in a grin. "Thanks. You're rather good looking too." His hazel eyes sparkled in the sunlight with his humor. "But then nearly everyone thinks you're handsome. Not so many people would say the same for me."
Sherlock frowned. "Then the entirety of the human race is as stupid as I've always said." He shook his head a bit. "And people don't actually think I'm handsome. They think I look like a gangly alien. Or so Mycroft's last assistant claimed."
John frowned fiercely. "Well, she was dumb then. Or daft." His sunny smile returned and he chuckled a bit. "I'm going to believe she was daft. More fun that way."
Sherlock's own smile made a reappearance. "Well, she did agree to work for Mycroft and then she quit. Had to be daft. Only logical conclusion."
John laughed and squeezed Sherlock's fingers in his own. "It doesn't matter what they think anyway. I think you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. And I took an art class or two so I should know." He nodded firmly as though his was the last word on the subject. Sherlock tended to agree.
They stared at each other in silence. John would have been uncomfortable with anyone else's eyes cataloguing his expression but Sherlock's gaze had never disconcerted him. Sherlock had been staring at John for years. John stared back. He liked looking at Sherlock. Aunt Vi's friends always remarked on how expressionless Sherlock's face was but John could never understand that. Sherlock's face was a wealth of expressions. You just had to know what to look for. How to see. And John was an expert in Sherlock.
"John," Sherlock's voice was quiet and John thought he detected a bit of uncertainty in it. "When people are dating each other…" He paused and shook his head. "No, I don't care what people do." He took a deep breath as though bracing himself. "I'm going to kiss you now," he announced. "Tell me to stop if you like but I am going to kiss you first."
John's lips curved in a smile. "I'm not going to stop you. I've been wanting to kiss you for weeks. I was just waiting for you to be ready."
Sherlock leaned forward and pressed his lips to John's without another word. His frown was perplexed when he drew back an instant later. "I do not understand," he told John frustrated. "I did some research on the subject and a kiss should be more…just more. Why isn't it? I do love you so where are the fireworks?"
John huffed out a laugh and let go of Sherlock's hand to grab the back of his neck so he couldn't move away. "Sherlock that was a kiss you'd give your maiden aunt. Not a kiss you'd give your boyfriend." He pulled Sherlock head down to his own. "You're not the only one that did a bit of research," he murmured against Sherlock's lips.
John's lips opened against Sherlock's and his tongue lapped at Sherlock's until they parted under the pressure. Sherlock gasped at the tingles spreading from his lips down his neck and torso and through his entire body. John took the opportunity to delve farther in and swept across Sherlock's teeth, tongue and the roof of his mouth before retreating and coaxing Sherlock's tongue into his own mouth.
Sherlock had always been a quick study and his tongue followed John's without hesitation. John fought not to grin. It would ruin the kiss. Sherlock's tongue was tentative but enthusiastic at the same time as it felt out the new territory and sensations. John sucked it further in.
Sherlock groaned loudly and braced one hand beside John's head while the other tightened on his hair. He'd been unprepared for the sensations that coursed through him at John's actions. His last coherent thought was that kissing was definitely an activity that was worth the fanfare it received.
Finally needing to breathe and cursing the necessity he pulled back. "Tingles," he said breathlessly. "Everywhere. Tingles and I think my brain exploded."
John laughed without sound as he dragged in a lungful of air. "Good," he said. "That's the way it's supposed to happen…I think." He pulled Sherlock's head back down. "I want more. We've nothing else we're supposed to do today and nowhere that we're supposed to be."
Sherlock smiled and fastened his mouth on John's as an answer. Kissing was a much better use of his time than any other activity he could name.