Eurovision
Disclaimer: They may be my babies, but they are sadly not actually mine. In fact, they aren't really mine at all. -le sob-
This little uh... thing came from a prompt on Tumblr that came about an hour after Eurovision 2012 ended. I had been liveblogging (sort of) the event beforehand and have now vowed to never ever watch the contest without the internet (read: Tumblr) again. It's funny enough without, bloody hilarious with. So much love for Graham Norton's commentary...
Sherlock was never letting John talk him into watching TV ever again. Not even if he lost a bet (hah, like that would ever happen); not even if John had a gun held to his head (again, hah, like that would ever happen - John was good with a gun, he was a soldier, he killed people blah blah blah, but Sherlock knew about seven ways to get a gun out of someone's hand and he could perform any of those seven ways while asleep); not even if Sherlock owed John his life… Okay, maybe then; John had saved his life too many times to count and vice versa. Anyway, he'd never use that as an incentive to get Sherlock to watch crappy TV. Or so Sherlock hoped.
Anyway. Tonight's 'agenda' was Eurovision 2012. Sherlock had heard of Eurovision, he had a vague memory of seeing one years ago just to see what it was like and well… 'never again' was the verdict and he'd pushed it out of his mind. All that remained was a horrible image of glitter. So much glitter. And now he was watching the godawful thing again. Sort of voluntarily.
John's lucky I love him, he thought blackly, curling up cat-like as usual on the sofa, bracing himself for the explosion of cheese that the show brought, and unconsciously wrapping his arms around himself as if they'd protect him from the Europop. Speaking of John, where was he? It was almost 8pm, surely he'd want to catch the beginning… the smell of popcorn hit Sherlock's nose and a smile crept unbidden to his lips. Of course, John would have made popcorn for this.
John walked in with a large bowl of popcorn and settled himself on the floor, leaning back against Sherlock's armchair. They'd fallen into that pattern a few months back, after finding out that one person's armchair really wasn't comfortable for two grown men sitting together in for extended periods of time, regardless of how much they loved each other.
At some point during the contest, somewhere between Greece (Sherlock only felt mildly evil for hoping they would win and then have to try and foot the bill for hosting the competition the following year) and Spain (John was full out cackling at Graham Norton's commentary and the fact that Spain had actually been told not to win), Sherlock had slipped off the armchair and onto the floor next to John. Only partially for ease of access to the popcorn.
And at some point between Germany (John chanced a quick look at Sherlock, his mind flashing back to those awful years they had each spent alone) and Ireland (neither Sherlock nor John could stop laughing throughout the whole of the performance), Sherlock ended up with an arm around John, both of them tucked under a blanket and leaning against each other as the biting commentary of Graham Norton played out over the shots of Azerbaijan, sniggering quietly at the whole spectacle.
Maybe Eurovision isn't totally worthless, Sherlock mused as he smirked as Jeremy quipped "the Greece finance minister just died a little" as the early votes rolled in.
Link to the original fic's if you want to see it on my blog but it's pretty much the same:
post/23829724091/sherlock-watches-eurovision-fic-it-please
As always, reviews are much appreciated; I welcome constructive criticism with open arms to my (nonexistent) bosom.