I do not own any character involved and/or associated with the television show Sherlock from BBC. Nor do I own any part of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's original series. I don't own The Princess Bride or The Neverending Story either, just so we're clear.

This fic is adapted from an Omegle RP that I did once. I found it very cute and fluffy, but it needed revising in order to be shared. I never found out the stranger's name, much to my dismay, but thank you stranger, all the same. This is my first fic so reviews are much appreciated. Some of the information below may not be accurate. I realize that the movie they end up watching would not be from John's childhood. I've probably never seen a movie from around his childhood, so I just used some of my favorites. I apologize if they seem slightly girly. Thank you for reading, carry on, and enjoy.

Sherlock, I heard a boom. Did you blow something up again?-JW

We'll be needing a new toaster.-SH

Damn it... Are you alright?-JW

Fine. Half of my left eyebrow seems to have gone missing, but no major injuries.-SH

You are never going to hear the end of this.-JW

Shut up.-SH

Half-brow Holmes, consulting explosives technician-JW

If you don't stop I'll start going on about my short-arse assistant-SH

It's not my fault I'm short!-JW

Not my fault the toaster exploded.-SH

All right, technically it is, but still.-SH

I'm not that short though, am I?-JW

The average height for a British male is 5'9", you are 5'6". You are short-SH

Fine. Would you like to come watch a movie with your short-arse assistant?-JW

Which one?-SH

Movie, that is. I only have one short-arse assistant-SH

You're hilarious, did you know that? But anyways... I'm feeling nostalgic, so maybe one of my favorites from when I was a kid? The Princess Bride, or maybe The Never-Ending Story?-JW

The Princess Bride, please. Are we watching it in your room or the living room?-SH

My room, its going to smell burnt in the living room, isn't it?-JW

Fair enough. I'll be up shortly.-SH

No pun intended.-SH

Oh shut up, would you?-JW

Sherlock smirked at John's last text and climbed the stairs to John's room, pushing the door open. They very rarely watched films together up here. And Sherlock was always struck by the military neatness John maintained. He walked over to John's bed and flopped down next to the doctor, one hand plastered over his left eyebrow.

John put the DVD in and lay next to Sherlock on the bed. He chuckled at his hand placement. He decided to be nice and not say anything about it. "You sounded rather enthused about watching The Princess Bride, didn't think that it would be your type."

Sherlock shrugged. "It's funny," he said, "despite its obvious flaws, of course. A resistance to a poison purported to be so powerful it could kill any man? Preposterous."

John chuckled. "Try saying that ten times fast."

Sherlock tilted his head in confusion. "Why?"

John sighed and shook his head slowly in disbelief. "You've never heard of a ton- nevermind. Just... Nevermind."

Sherlock sighed and removed his hand, resolutely not looking at John. "I do enjoy the Spaniard though."

"Hello my name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die." John said, trying to mimic the vengeful Spaniard.

Sherlock shook his head with wide eyes. "No, John. No, no, no. Don't do that." He scooted a bit closer to the doctor. "Go on then, start it."

John noticed Sherlock's slight movement towards him. Surely it was an accident, right? He gave it no further thought and pressed play on the remote.

Sherlock watched as the familiar first scene of the film unfolded, and he shifted a bit. "I've always thought Buttercup was acyually rather clever." he said, offhandedly.

John looked to the taller man and furrowed his eyebrows. "And why is that?" John knew that Sherlock found very few people to be clever. Especially those in movies.

Sherlock sat up. "Well," he said "she deduced that Westley was in love with her, even though he barely spoke to her at all. And she managed to capture his attention despite being rather brusque and demanding."

"I never really thought about it that way." John thought about Sherlock's word choice. Deduce? Brusque? Demanding? They were all words that also pertained to Sherlock.

"Of course she did plenty of stupid things later. And she does far too much waiting around to be saved for my tastes." He paused. "Still, she was willing to give up her happiness to save Westley's life, and in a way that's rather admirable. Stupid, but admirable." Sherlock galnced over at John, and shifted a bit closer.

What... Is this... Is this really happening? John thought. "A-are you... trying to tell me something, Sherlock?"

Sherlock blushed fiercely and pulled away from John as quickly as he could. "No." he said, crossing his arms over his chest petulantly.

"Because, if you are, I say we give Buttercup and Westley a run for their money." John looked over to Sherlock with a small smirk.

Sherlock's eyes widened, and then he smirked, unable to resist saying his next three words. "As you wish." he said just before grabbing the collar of John's shirt and tugging him in.

Since the invention of the kiss there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind. The End.