A Study In Song
Summary: Mostly one-shot songfics, surrounding John and Sherlock. Possible variations in the future. Will contain fluff, slash, angst and all the usual favourites.
A/N: This one is inspired by Toxic by Yael Naim (16 Bit Remix). It's completely different from the Britney Spears original, so give it a try if you like. I know what you're thinking. Don't think that. :)
Toxic
"Baby can't you see, I'm falling.
A guy like you should wear a warning.
It's dangerous, I'm fallin'."
John sat on the sofa, his head reeling as the alcohol began to set in. His eyes were unsteady as they tried to focus on the union jack cushion on his chair. He squinted, the action causing his sense of balance to waver and he shot out a hand to rest on the coffee table so as to steady himself. As he did so, he caught sight of Sherlock's laptop open on the kitchen table. His blog was open and there was another cipher code of some kind displayed there. Subconsciously, John's heart began to flutter at the thought of his dark-haired flatmate, and so he grabbed his glass, and the bottle, and poured himself another scotch. He tipped his head back, letting the liquid burn his throat as it slid down.
As the glass slammed down on the hard surface, it caused a wave of nausea to ripple through his body. He gulped, the action very audible in the currently-empty flat. Not thinking at all, John braced himself and stood up in one sweeping move. He stumbled backwards, his calves bouncing back against the sofa cushions. Recovered, he made his way over to the kitchen, his gaze set firmly on the laptop sat there accusingly upon the, for once, empty tabletop. This should have made John stop and wonder for a second; Sherlock's experiments never left that table, so what had happened? But of course, all reason had fled him the moment his lips touched the golden nectar of life twenty minutes ago. In his inebriated state, John felt like the laptop was seducing him into coming closer, into making him reveal all of its secrets, if Sherlock was stupid enough to even put anything like that on the hard-drive. Why would he, when he had his own tucked safely inside his head where no one could reach it? John felt a compulsion to devour all of the information he could find from Sherlock's laptop, if only to get a glimpse of the rush he got just from being in the same room as him.
John's fingers fumbled over the keys on the laptop, opening up multiple tabs on the internet and possibly adding numerous blank or illiterate entries into 'The Science Of Deduction', under the name of the one and only Consulting Detective in the world. Would anyone be reading and notice the odd behaviour of the high-functioning sociopath? Obviously they would, but maybe not until later, it was quite late now as it was. Who would be up at this hour? Just as John was about to click on another of the open tabs, a comment was made on one of his 'entries'. He blinked, confused enough without this interruption. He opened it, staring at the screen as much as he could with his head swimming, not to mention his vision being slightly impaired. Apparently this person, 'Anonymous', if that was even a name, was up late enough and happened to be on Sherlock's website at the time of the drunken fumbling.
"John, go to bed. You know you shouldn't be doing this."
As John read the comment aloud, he noticed that his words were slurred and he unconsciously wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, before leaning against the table with both hands. It was almost impossible for him to think in this state, so he had no idea who would know that it was him making these entries. There were no cameras implanted in the flat that he knew of, and so far he knew that there was no one with him in the flat. He glanced behind him, as if just to make sure, but then turned back. Focusing entirely on the keyboard, John typed in a reply, reading it to himself as he did, in hopes that it would help him to make better sense of it.
"Who is this? Why are you on Sherlock's blog?"
What John didn't see was that what he had typed looked something more along the lines of this; Whkjo iss thgis? WHYl ARE UKY NIO SHHEROLOCK'S BLOGOOG?
He waited for a reply, his mind becoming a little clearer. He decided that he didn't want to do this in a sober state, so he walked back into the living room, took up the bottle and glass, and then returned to the laptop. He set them aside, after taking another long gulp of course, and then a comment blinked onto the screen.
"That's not important. Please John, just do as I say. I don't want to see the consequences of you drinking lying on the kitchen floor."
John frowned, taking another sip and sighing as he felt a familiar buzz in his mind. The conversation went on for a while between him and 'Anonymous', well mostly the latter, seeing as John was in no fit state to make a conversation at all. Finally, the 'Anonymous' commenter stopped replying and John just stood there, feeling no more at ease than he had before. He still had up multiple tabs on the laptop, but he closed them, knowing he'd find nothing there. Something started to pull at his mind and so he looked at the desktop, noticing something that he hadn't before. There was a single file, labelled only as DJHW. Something was familiar about those letters, but all he really cared about was opening the damn thing. He wanted to know something about Sherlock that the man wouldn't know he knew. Something had come over John some time ago, constantly attracting John to the danger that was Sherlock Holmes. He never really admitted it, because it disturbed him greatly, but now there was nothing between him and his desire. He double clicked on the file but as it loaded he was interrupted.
"John?"
At the sound of the deep baritone, a shiver ran down John's spine that he fought to ignore for the moment. He turned slowly, carefully pushing all evidence of the alcohol behind him. Sherlock was removing his coat, stuffing his gloves into its pockets and then hanging it on the back of his bedroom door.
"Sherrrr- Ahem, Sherlock."
Showing no reaction to his drunken slur apart from a raised eyebrow, Sherlock approached him, both hands in his trouser pockets. He came within five inches of John's body and so John had to hold his breath. As if it was an afterthought, Sherlock reached behind him and pulled the laptop off the table. He scanned the screen for a second before replacing it where it had come from. He stood staring at John, his whole body screaming 'Whatcha gonna do?'. Well, that's what John thought anyway.
"Find anything interesting on your search through my laptop?"
John gulped again, louder this time now that his heart was practically beating in his ears and Sherlock's gaze was boring into him, holding him captive.
"I, er, um, I don't know what-"
"Oh, come on John, spare me all that. Do you really think I'm that thick? It is me, remember."
John blinked, not noticing how he was leaning slightly forwards towards the taller man. He didn't want to confess that, yes, he had been raiding Sherlock's laptop for an insight, just a tiny glimpse, into who the man was, but he knew there was no use lying to the Consulting Detective. He could see through him like a window.
"Well, I just. Ah..."
"If you wanted to get to know me, you need just have asked."
Sherlock actually smirked at him then, his grey eyes glinting with amusement. John tried taking a step back, but forgot that he was stood against the table, so his behind knocked into the wood and that made a grating sound where it scraped against the floor. He flinched, knowing all too well that Sherlock would be watching his every move and analysing everything he did. This was not a good situation to be in, it was going to end all too badly and -
Sherlock had moved in, the last thing John seeing was an almost predatory grin on his face. Their lips collided, at first just skin on skin, nothing more than a slight pressure moving every now and then together in a slow motion. But then John realised what was happening. He woke up from his frozen stupor and moved his mouth against Sherlock's, bringing his hands up to rest hesitantly on the other man's hips. Sherlock smiled against his mouth, bringing both his hands up, resting on either side of John's face. Their breath mingled together, hot against both men's faces. He felt Sherlock's tongue on his bottom lip, so he opened his mouth, allowing the man entrance. They fell into sync easily, and John tried so very hard not to lose himself completely. If this wasn't real, he wanted to enjoy and savour every single moment of it. Soon, John was sat on the table, the laptop pushed back and the alcohol spilt over the table and onto the floor. Sherlock was stood between his legs, so close that it was impossible for him to get any closer. Apart from if you really had him, thought John. At that thought, a certain part of him which was dangerously near Sherlock now seemed to come alive and a moan escaped his parted lips, causing him to pull away with embarrassment. He ducked his head, not wanting to see Sherlock's reaction, which would inevitably be one that would humiliate John. He sat there for a tense moment, both hands placed purposefully in his lap and heat rising in his cheeks. He felt soft fingers under his chin and his head was tipped up, his eyes now locking with those of Sherlock, seeming to keep him held in place. But then he felt the need rising again, the all-too-familiar rush of adrenaline, or whatever it was, flaring up into his chest and clenching there painfully. He jumped forwards off the table, flying into Sherlock's waiting arms. They became a heated tangle of skin, teeth and tongues, their clothes becoming an annoying barrier to their desires. The Consulting Detective pulled John backwards, a growl forming in his throat when John grasped his rear in anticipation. They practically fell into Sherlock's room, John's breathy laugh echoing in the flat as the dark-haired man forcefully slammed the bedroom door shut.
"Intoxicate me now, with your lovin' now.
I think I'm ready now, I think I'm ready now.
Intoxicate me now, with your lovin' now.
I think I'm ready now..."
A/N: So, this didn't really turn out the way I expected! There was a lot more slash than I thought there would be. And I didn't really get much plotline in. But I hope it was good for a first chapter! Feel free to give me some advice and/or criticisms.