"Hello, my dear," Sheldon smirked throatily. "I've been waiting for your wondrous return. For ages... or at least a minute."
Jims licked his lips in obvious pleasure. It had been a long game of cat and mouse and he couldn't resist hearing Sherldon's squeaks of desire as Jims had finally caught Sheldon underneath his paw. Sheldonlock was his particular brand of catnip and he could not to gobble him up.
He sauntered over in his immaculately tailored Westwood suit which he had bought just weeks before from a Moroccan sheik who had in turn stolen it off a curious young reporter with hair the shade of fresh cut rubies and a drunkard who looked of pirate. He knew the effect was not lost on his adversary who had once held the torch to a burning desire to engage in piracy in his tender youth.
"Blah blah bluh," Jumpers replied angirly, though precisely what it was, Jams didn't much care. It was hardly of importance when his beloved stood before him like a groom at the altar for his beloved bride. "Bluh blah-"
*platter*
The irritating honking noises were abruptly cut off by the immediate painting of the walls in maroon tones of brain matter with clouds of white from the pieces of skull. It was as if there was now a red sunset under which the two could spread the traditional picnic blanket that would symbolize a new beginning for the star-crossed couple.
Sherly dashed across the scant metres that set them so far apart, throwing his arms around Joms with all the fire one could find in a heart ice. Jms was nearly knocked into the pool behind him, but of course in his lover's arms he could brave any frontier, space – the final frontier as it was once known – or even such small frontier as that stretched behind him.
"I feel as if we are breaching new frontiers with our love," Sheldy sang into Jimsses ear passionately, and if this didn't prove their undeniable connection, there was nothing in this world or any other – especially Saturn – that could. (Especially not on Saturn)
Then a truly obnoxious sound emanated behind both of them. "I'm not yet!" (But all Jams herd was "murmle murmle murmle.") It was the dreaded Pirate Sweeter Vest, come to put a wrench in their spicy toolbox of love.
Super Jams regarded the cruel, villainous Doktah with the one shred of attention he could spare from his temptation ;with absolutely loathing.
Jams broke away from his partner reluctantly to quell the imminent danger to their relationship that was Soother Vest, selflessly plowing him into the pool, without breaking a sweater nail.
"Ooh Mr Joms, ooh. Hot jam, you sexy thing." Sheldin whinnied through the waters.
He could see Jihms reflected through the water, not unlike how jims reflected the heated kneading of his own pancreas.
"You are nothing less than the incarnation Hephaestus, the Australian god of sexy, himself."
Padlock could see Jyms staring up at him through the foggy amber waves of foam. Shiver Vest seemed to paling as his sanguine blood drained from his languidly stiffing carps.
As Jams climbed out of the pool, he could heart the echoing footsteps coming from an inscrutable source, which turned out to be none other than
SUBSATURATION. his handy-dandy minion.
Substation whipped out his massive black Harry dryer and expelled its rancid air all over Jim. Pushnh. Pushing Sebustion out of his way into the pool, he rapped his now dry limbs around Shellshock like a child who had gone many months without the companionship of a high-functionary imaginary ally, or perhaps like a Victorian dame who had been petrified by a dash of vomit on the cobbles, or maybe even
With a loud buzzing noise, the pair turned to the pool of death in which both friend and foe were now succumbing to the powers of the infamous Egyptian god Thor.
"BECAUSE I LOVE HIM," Moocroft screamed as he jumped after Submisson, promptly finding himself devoid of life.
"That was meretricious." Lastrudel excluded in delight.
"Alls well that ends well, eh?" Sherlobster swooned as he gave into the embrace of Moraniarty, as their tongues formed a wriggling, pulsating reef knot of desire.
"Jim, what the hell are you doing?" Moran leaned his shoulder, a look of disgust and shock crossing his face.
"Problem?" Jim smirked as he hit the button conveniently labelled "Publish to the blog of Sherlock Holmes."
"Clearly," Sebastian said indignantly, "Holmes would know that Hephaestus is the Norse god of Sexy. Do your research."
"Of course," Jim said, rolling his eyes. "I'm three steps ahead of you."
"You never say that I'm your favourite brand of catnip anymore."
"Well, you won't dress up as Holmes anymore."
"Maybe I wanted to be you and you could be Sherlock for once!"
"I don't have the height for it, you know that."
"Fine, fine. I'll go get the riding crop."