So this is a prompt fill for my lovely cousin! It's my first Sherlock fic, so if it's awful, I'm sorry! I like it myself, though.
Anywho, I hope that you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own! Nope nope nope.
With the number of times they had ran and hid from various criminals over the years, John should have been less surprised as he was that this was happening. It was only a matter of time until they were going to be hiding from the cops—especially with the way Sherlock interacted with them.
And yet, now that they were here, John found himself shocked. Though the reason for that could very well be the situation they found themselves him—squeezed together in a tiny space as they waited for the coast to clear. He hadn't really been thinking when he shoved them into the closet; his focus had been purely on getting them hidden, and fast.
He really had no one to blame but himself, and he knew it. This was exactly what he had been trying so hard to avoid—being caught in close quarters, limbs tangled, the heat of Sherlock warming him. His face was flushed, he knew, and if Sherlock didn't stop whispering his deductions in his ear—well, John's feelings would be hard to ignore.
Starting to feel a cramp he shifted his weight off his bad leg, biting down on his lower lip when it brought them even closer together. This was the closest—and most intimate—he'd been to another in a while, and Sherlock wasn't making it any easier on him. Did he really have to whisper directly in his ear like that? Did his hand have to be on his hip, with the other on the wall beside him, boxing him in? Did he have to be so close that with every breath their torsos brushed, causing his pulse to race?
If John didn't know better, he would say that he was doing it all on purpose.
As Sherlock murmured his name, voice soft and silky, shifting closer with what felt like his own hard to ignore feelings, John could only hope that he was.
So, how'd you like it? Good? Bad? Let me know!
Thank you for reading, and please, leave a review!~