Child's Play
"Sherlock?" John called peeling the sweat soaked jumper from his body. The streets of London were full of people out enjoying the summer heat but John didn't want the sun and had left the clinic early after hours of zero patients. John's eyes found Sherlock's usual black trench and blue scarf hanging by the door an indication he should be home. "Sherlock?" the doctor called again almost hearing crickets as a response.
He isn't home! That rarely happens!
John thought excitedly looking around the flat in a new light. It was like a theme park! All the things he could do and without hearing the loud complaints of his flat mate. John laughed out loud. Striping off his shoes and socks the ex-solider strolled through the rooms marveling at the differences he noted.
No strange smells, no complaining, no pouting, no violin music (though he didn't mind that much even at 4 in the morning), no consulting detective's childish demands! John felt like a kid in a candy store! What should he do first? Walk around in his boxers? Cook something? LISTEN TO LOUD MUSIC?!
LOUD MUSIC!
John hurried back into the living room over to the dusty, neglected stereo system. Plugging in his phone John spun the volume dial up radiating Metallica through the speakers. Laughing John spun around playing an air guitar. He could hear nothing but the music in his ears! After several minutes of dancing around the room John jumped on some of the furniture doing fake stage dives for a pretend audience.
If Sherlock were here…
John stopped that thought from forming. No, right now it was his time Sherlock got every other minute of the day! John told himself going back to his head banging feeling bubbling excitement.
An hour later John was sprawled over Sherlock's chair ACDC now emulating through the flat with his eyes closed he listened to the music. Laying there John had a silly idea and decided this was the best time to go with it. Rolling off the chair John hurried to his room. Minutes passed before he returned to the living room dressed in full army greens, his unloaded gun in hand. Glancing around the room a ridiculous smile on his face John suddenly dropped behind his chair gun clutched in both hands.
Trapped behind enemy lines Captain John Watson has only one choice if he wants to survive and make it over the boarder! To KILL!
John narrated in his head peeking over the chair to spy invisible gunmen. Giving a loud battle cry that was lost in the blaring music the doctor launched himself over his chair aiming the gun "Bang! Bang!" he shouted watching the fake men fall. John dropped to a roll ending up under the computer desk.
Almost there just have to make it pass the snipers and land mines.
Jon giggled glancing around before crawling out from under the table. Hopping over the floor as if dodging landmines John dove into the kitchen.
Damn! That was close!
Tip-toeing over the kitchen floor John glanced down the hall leading to the stairs up to his room. Giving a loud cry of fake pain John dropped his gun clutching his chest "AHHHH! He got me!" he yelled dramatically stumbling back into the kitchen bumping into the experiment laden table. Slipping slowly to the floor John groaned "Now I'll never make it home," he whispered as if they were his dying words. He let his eyes drift closed in an unrealistic death pose.
Cracking an eye John looked around "I'm not dying today," he growled one hand still clutched to his chest. The almost middle aged man rolled to his knees using his free hand to drag himself in to the living room. "I. Will. Not. Die. Today!" He breathed pulling himself further into the room. Rolling on to his back John stared up at the ceiling "Not. Strong. Enough. Tell. Diane. I. Love. Herrrrrr….." John droned trailing the last word out before bursting out in a fit of laughter.
Pushing himself up John's eyes fell on Sherlock's coat and scarf a thought striking him. Feeling a little sneaky John ran to his room grabbing the dropped gun on the way, stripping from his greens and pulling on a shirt and jeans. Back in the living room John grabbing up the infamous scarf and wrapped like Sherlock did around his neck. The cloth was incredible soft no wonder the taller man wore it all the time. Next John carefully pulled on the trench.
It was extremely long on him the bottom pooled around his feet. John had to roll up the sleeves several times just to find his hands.
This thing is really warm! Now I know why Sherlock never layers up.
A slow song came out of the stereo and John bowed to a fake partner "Shall we?" he asked putting his arms up as if taking the dancer in hand. Slowly John moved around the room dancing with the pretend person. Caught up in the music John closed his eyes and let his mind loose in the motions of moving. Blindly he found his way into the kitchen somehow managing not to run into anything.
Humming with the music John cracked his eyes open imagining a petit little blonde in his arms as he moved back into the living room. Out of the corner of his eye John caught sight of a dark figure sitting on the couch. Startled John stumbled barely keeping himself from falling. Sherlock was back and sitting comfortably on the couch his piercing eyes watching John.
The doctor's face burned several shades of red as he scrambled over the coffee table to the stereo ending the noise. A thick silence fell over the room Sherlock continued to stare at him his face completely blank. Slowly easing his way closer to the couch John didn't look at his flat mate mortified what the man has witnessed. "Sher…lock…I …I…can…explain?" he stammered though he had nothing, couldn't think of a single logical thing that would make the situation any better.
John stood there awkwardly eyes on the floor feeling like a scolded child though no one had spoken. "John," Sherlock's warm baritone spoke but John kept his eyes fixed on the floor, "John, look at me," the command was gentle but drew John's eyes without much effort. The brown of his eyes found the stormy blue/grey of Sherlock's. The face gave nothing away and they just stared at each other. John became fully aware he was still wearing the too big trench and scarf. The crimson of his bush deepened but his eyes never moved from Sherlock's.
The consulting detective slowly stood towering easily over the shorter man. Sherlock moved gracefully closer to the doctor stopping inches from him. John had to look up to keep his eyes on Sherlock fighting a strong urge to run. Slowly Sherlock unwrapped the scarf from John's neck draping it over his slim white arm. Next he leaned in to help John out of the trench. Holding the two things in his hands Sherlock linger in front of John a bit longer before a small secret smile stole across his face as the taller man turned returning the items to their spots.
John remained rooted to his spot conscious of the younger man "Doctor," the man's voice cracked. "A cup of tea would be lovely," John turned his surprised eyes to the detective who was now planted in his seat hands steepled under his chin in his thinking position. Dazed and confused about what had just happened John drifted into the kitchen getting the tea that was requested.
Sherlock hadn't moved from his spot when John returned with a steaming cup "Thank you John and…" he said looking up at John with that same secret smile, "I hope you had fun," the briefest sound of amusement edge his voice as he took the drink. John smirked his embarrassment fading quickly as he took his own seat across from his friend sipping lazily on his tea.