Bored and Sherlock were two words that never needed to be in the same sentence. A bored Sherlock usually became John's worst nightmare. No cases, no calls, no hints or clues. Nothing. And it was driving the detective up the wall. Clutching his violin tightly in hand, he raised it and rested it gently onto his shoulder, trying to compose a piece to take his mind off the nagging that rose in the back of his mind.
It was Christmas, the best time of year. Apparently Moriarty thought this as well, since there hand been absolutely nothing, and Sherlock made sure of that. He checked, doubled checked, and even triple checked for a lead. Nothing came up.
Sweet music came from inside the flat as John approached the door, smiling lightly, not realizing the mental state his boyfriend was in at that moment. Unlocking the door and successfully not dropping the groceries in hand, the doctor walked in and hummed a soft Christmas tune to himself. Ascending the stairs, the music came to a halt and cursing was heard from the other side of the door. Groaning to himself, John finally caught on.
"Sherlock," he started as he walked in, "I swear, if you start shooting the wall again..." Letting the halfhearted threat hang in the air, John set the bags down and began to sort them.
Turning briskly, the dark haired man fixed his mate with a cold stare, sighing angrily. "Can't help it. I'm bored out of my mind! Nothing works! No cases, no murders, nothing! John! It's going to drive me mad!"
"You'll be fine. Just give it a few more days. Something will turn up," John urged, "I feel as though I'm almost as antsy as you are, but it's Christmas, so just relax and enjoy it."
Pursing his lips into a thin line, the taller man nodded and turned. "Fine." Quickly, he grabbed his music and started off to his room to put it away.
Shaking his head, John just chuckled and finished putting away the groceries before heading over to the chair to watch telly with a warm cup of tea.
Almost an hour passed before John took into account Sherlock hadn't come out of his room. Furrowing his brow, the doctor looked in the direction the detective had gone. After a moment, he shrugged. Probably having a staring competition with the wall.
However, staring at a wall was most likely the last thing on the detective's mind. He and John, though they had been dating one year, three months, and fifteen days, had not been as... intimate as a normal relationship would be. Grant it, they weren't exactly normal, but just the same. Sherlock was bored and he knew just how to get out of it.
Smiling to himself, the man picked up the small green leaves tied with red string and headed out to the living-room, suppressing a chuckle as he watched John nearly nodding off from the boring infomercial playing.
Walking up quietly, Sherlock carefully leaned over the back of his mate's chair, holding the leaves above them both. Humming gently, John snapped awake with a gasp, eyes wide in shock as he looked up.
"Dammit, warn me you prick. You nearly gave me a heart attack!" Scolding the taller man pitifully, the ex-army doctor calmed his racing heart before peering up at the dark headed man above him, swallowing nervously at the strange expression on the other's face.
"I'm sorry, is there something wrong, John?"
"N-no... I just... why are you looking at me like that?"
"Like what? I'm simply waiting. You know, for a man who loves Christmas, you are horrible at upholding traditions."
Confused by the statement, John tilted his head before following Sherlock's gaze upward, realizing what was going on. A small tuft of mistletoe was perched above them both, held still by the detective's hand. Swallowing nervously, the smaller man looked back down, insides squirming with anticipation as his gaze met Sherlock's.
"Well...?" the black haired man asked, a small smirk drawing at the corners of his mouth.
Sighing loudly, John finally gave up and pulled Sherlock's collar, bringing their faces inches apart. "Just kiss me you bloody git."
Chuckling, the detective complied. Closing the small distance, their lips met gently, melding together perfectly just like they had many times before. Smiling gently into the kiss, John wrapped his arms around the taller man's neck, pulling him closer, causing Sherlock to drop the plant and place his hands against the back of the chair to steady himself.
Not to long after, the kiss turned from innocent and sweet to hot and needy. Sherlock gently nipped at John's lower lip, asking for entrance. After being denied what he wanted, a growl rumbled up from his throat as he ran a thin, cold hand up his lover's shirt. Pulling a gasp from the ex- army doctor, the detective entered.
Tongues met as they gently moved against each other, eliciting soft moans from both parties. Sitting up, John pressed closer to his detective, closing the distance between the two as their lips parted, breaths mingling for a moment. Sherlock moved quickly, lips pressing along the other's jaw as he made his way to John's ear. Nibbling and teasing the lobe, the taller man made his way down, causing John's breath to quicken.
More nips, turning into sensual, soft bites were planted along with licks and kisses down the doctor's sensitive neck. Gasping and letting a small moan slip out as soft lips touched his soft spot, John wriggled in frustration, his pants becoming tighter and tighter.
"Sh-Sherlock..."
The quiet moan brought a smirk to the dark haired man's lips. Pulling away only slightly, he rubbed a knee against the growing bulge in John's pants, unbuttoning the blue shirt he wore at the same time.
A louder moan was pulled from the man's lips as sweet friction was granted to him to relieve some pain. Eyes widening as cold air suddenly hit his chest, he watched Sherlock take a step back to admire his handy work.
The doctor before him, usually so cool and collected, was a moaning, panting, blushing mess, needy and straining for Sherlock. It made the detective swell with pride that he could do this with only a few simple touches, although, what else would you expect from the infamous Mr. Holmes?
Finally regaining some composure, John steady his heart rate and pushed himself up from the chair, stepping up towards the taller man.
"D-don't start something that you... you can't finish," he teased lightly, snaking his arms once more around his boyfriend's neck.
Smirking down at the blond man, Sherlock chuckled. "Trust me," he said, low and lustily, "I don't intend to."
All John could say was that he got Sherlock to finally relax and enjoy himself, and they both agreed it was a VERY happy Christmas.