Getting Together
The hustle and bustle of London did very little to bother Sherlock as he thought nearly mindlessly, sitting on the bench of the park that was nearest his home. Sherlock's elbows rested lightly on his knees and his hands sat in a praying position, he rested his chin atop is fingers. He had already figured out the case he and John were currently working on, he just needed to find the evidence to prove it. But, thinking of compelling evidence was truly proving to be a quite monumental task considering that a certain doctor was staring holes into the side of Sherlock's head. Even with his eyes closed Sherlock could tell that John was staring straight at him, taking in every detail of his face as he thought, as he often did as Sherlock was in his Mind Palace. Sherlock had to fight a slight blush at the thought of John. He had always had what others would call a "thing" for John. As a matter of fact he would go so far as to say he was hopelessly in love with the man. A hard emphasis on the word "hopeless", John's ever waning heterosexuality was always a factor whenever it came to their success as anything more than friends. Anytime Sherlock ever attempted to get closer to John, ask him on a date or even make his feelings towards Dr. Watson clear enough that even people that are not involved call them a couple, John just plays the "man" card shouting, "I'm not gay!"
And Sherlock couldn't dispute that. John was "happily" married for a few years to Marry before she passed. But he even then Sherlock could still basically see the Bisexual just rolling off of the doctor. Not in a bad way of course, but Sherlock couldn't help but notice the way John watched him with such respect, warmth and love. The way his body language begged for Sherlock to never leave his side. And most noticeably John's eyes, the way they glanced at Sherlock's lips every so often as if begging to be kissed, and how his eyes scrolled slowly over Sherlock's body, as if undressing him, at times he thought Sherlock wasn't looking or paying attention. Oh how Sherlock secretly wished John wouldn't just undress him with his eyes. But, he's willing to settle for the time being…
"Or maybe not.. A smirk crosses Sherlock's face as a devilishly brilliant idea popped into his head. "Oh, yes Sherlock" this will do nicely… but first… Sherlock's steely blue eyes popped open as he stood suddenly, scaring the ever living daylights out of John. "Have you-" John started but was quickly ignored as Sherlock walked past him "Come on John, do keep up." With a deep sigh, John followed Sherlock a block back to the crime scene were Lestrade was waiting with the victim's family.
"Striding past the police tape and straight to the detective Sherlock gave an exasperated sigh as Lestrade held up one finger to motion for Sherlock to wait until he was finished talking to the family. "Oh come on Grant, don't tell me you don't see it." Sherlock sighed. Lestrade rolled his eyes and looked at Sherlock out of the corner of his eye. "No, I don't Sherlock, and it's Greg if you happen to care." Sherlock pinched the bridge of his nose, "Oh how wonderful it must be, being you simple minded people." John glared lightheartedly at Sherlock obvious that he was trying to hide a smile. "Sherlock." He said as if he was scolding a dog. Sherlock rolled his eyes and glanced at John before turning back to the body "Harry Goodfield, age 32, Height: 6' 4", Weight: 200lbs. The victim was strangled to death with a rope, biased off of the pattern bruising around the neck and the filaments plucked from the wound matching the rope found about 100 feet away from the body. He was murdered around 8:00 pm last Friday biased around the post mortem bruises all on the back of his body where he's been laying where his blood has coagulated and the formation of maggots feeding off of his body, so about 72 hours dead. Now brings on the question of who killed poor Harry. Being six-four we would think that if someone shorter than him had strangled him the bruise pattern on his neck the bruises would be angled down, but the bruises on the victim's body are angled up showing that someone taller, or standing above him strangled him. The coloration of the bruising shows that someone with less strength than necessary killed him, meaning that it took multiple attempts for this person to kill the victim. This proves that the killer was a first time killer without the strength needed to kill the victim. Now Harry was a good person in retrospect. He was not involved in gangs or any other affiliations that we could tell. So that rules out a hit, or a gang murder. That leaves a serial killer or marital dispute. Seeing as how there have been no recent killings of this nature. That rules out serial killer, unfortunately, leaving everything to the wife." Sherlock finished tuning away from the body in a flourishing motion, his coat swishing around his ankles, pointing at the wife. She stared back at Sherlock, shock evident on her face. "And why would she kill her husband?" Sally growled at Sherlock. Sherlock rolled his eyes. "If you haven't noticed, which you obviously haven't," Sherlock walked up to the wife and grabbed her left hand, "Her wedding rings are gone. There are no indents or tan lines showing that she has not been wearing her wedding rings at all. Yet she says that she has lived with the man recently and is devastated by his loss." Sherlock grabbed the arm of her jacket, "Her clothes are much newer and obviously much more expensive than her husbands. These clothes are approximately a few months pay for the victim biased off his clothes alone, knock off rolex watch, faux leather shoes. Whereas she's wearing Gucci and Coach. And if I reach in here," Sherlock reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a well worn business card, "Just as I thought, this Mr. Gerald Smithers the lawyer from all of the divorce court commercials has received several calls from her. And I suspect that she takes full advantage of her attorney-client privilege with him." Sherlock said slipping the card back into her pocket. "So why not the lawyer?" Sally chastised. Sherlock turned to her with a sigh and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Because he's not the one who wanted his husband out of the picture, Sally." Sherlock replied sarcastically as he rolled his eyes, "Please do keep up." The wife burst into tears, admitting to everything after being caught. Sally merely rolled her eyes but started to clean up. Sherlock twirled on his heels and started heading out completely ignoring Lestrade as he walked, John followed at his heels.
Once they were in the cab on the way home, John's smile only grew and he chuckled. Sherlock turned towards him quizzically. "You really are bloody fantastic." John muttered, smiling full heartedly, and looking deeply into Sherlock's eyes. Sherlock quickly tried to hide the blush that was creeping up his face by pulling up his jacket collar. Oh how he wanted to just put his plan into motion right here in this cab but he knew he had to wait, just a few more hours, just until they put Rosie to bed then the night was theirs.
"Sherlock and John picked Rosie up from Mrs. Hudson's flat and thanked her. Rosie was already fed, bathed and half asleep by the time they got home. It was quite late, "We really do need to start getting home earlier. Poor dear stayed up until midnight to see us. It's not healthy; she's only one and a half." John whispered to Sherlock as they climbed the stairs and into 221 B. Sherlock followed John into Rosie's room and watched as John put Rosie to bed and kissed her forehead. "I'll do my best to work faster from now on then." Sherlock mumbled with a smile as he and John walked as quietly out of Rosie's room as possible. John's shocked face was enough of a tell to prove to Sherlock it was time to enact his plan.
"Sherlock smirked at John, "Yes, John?" He watched the blush that crept up John's cheeks. John didn't answer vocally but his body language said everything. Taking the next leap of faith, Sherlock stepped forward and placed one hand above John's shoulder and leaned against the wall. Their bodies were almost touching now and faces were mere inches apart, Sherlock could feel John's breath on his lips. Sherlock watched as John's eyes trembled but were glancing between Sherlock's icy blue eyes and cupid bow lips,span style="mso-spacerun: yes;" /spanJohn's own lips were parted slightly with his bottom lip was pouted out begging to be kissed. "John," Sherlock whispered as low and seductively as possible. John's eyes lit up, looking into Sherlock's eyes, "Yes, Sherlock?" John whispered back, his voice just barely audible. "May I kiss you, John?" Sherlock asked moving just a bit closer, just close enough so that their bodies touched. John's eyes glistened with something that Sherlock could not identify as John nodded slowly. "Y-yes." John stuttered. Sherlock leaned forward until their lips were barely touching, "Are you sur-" Sherlock started whispering until he was abruptly cut off by John crashing his lips into his own. Sherlock was shocked at first to say the least but eased into the kiss, as did John. John caressed Sherlock's chest, keeping his right hand at Sherlock's heart and moving his left up into Sherlock's thick, dark curls. Sherlock used his freehand to grab John's waist and pull him closer. John gasped at the sudden closeness, which gave Sherlock the opportunity to enter John's mouth with his tongue. With a moan, John accepted Sherlock's request for a duel and battled for dominance.
"After a few minutes the two parted for air leaving between them a string of saliva. Both panting heavily, Sherlock touched his forehead against John's and smiled. "I've wanted to do that for a very long time." John chuckled. "Oh, trust me. We aren't done yet." John muttered, in a lust laced voice. Sherlock sighed contently and kissed the side of John's neck. "That would be lovely," He started laying little kisses on John's delicate skin, causing the shorter man to shiver at his mere touch, "but are you ready? And most importantly," Sherlock stopped and looked John in the eyes making the blonde nearly whine in protest but listen honestly, "will you still care for me in the morning?" John's eyes widened when he noticed the sadness the dark haired detectives held. The slight fear that this kiss and this night would disappear from them after tonight, shone through Sherlock's eyes like wildfire. He pulled Sherlock close and held him lightly. "Yes of course I will still care for you in the morning. Sherlock, our past is in the past. But I will always know that I…. I love you. I always will. No matter if it is in the form of the friendship we held before or if you want to…" John trailed off, his face flushing the color of freshly picked roses. "If I would like to what?" Sherlock whispered, knowing full well what John was going to say. "Y-you know.." John whispered adverting his gaze from Sherlock's, "go.. out sometime…. As a… couple." John's face was basically on fire and his gaze was boring holes in the door-frame leading to Rosie's room. Sherlock smiled widely and kissed John just below his ear. "I love you too." Sherlock whispered lowly, "and I would love to go out sometime 'as a couple'." Sherlock mocked teasingly. John growled and looked at Sherlock with a smile before kissing Sherlock once again. Sherlock grinned and pulled John into his room. "We don't need to do anything tonight if you are not ready but I am officially claiming you in one way or another tonight." Sherlock said in a very lusty tone. John merely chuckled as they spent the night together, laying in bed talking about everything and nothing, kissing and doing just a bit of "experimenting." As Sherlock liked to call it.