This is something I've been tossing around since the beginning of the week. Although it has made me think about other characters and how they smell (eventually I will write about Sherlock's smell), John was the first that occurred to me. If anyone wants to debate the idea, be my guest.
Enjoy, because the rating definitely goes up a little here. ;)
Sherlock hated cologne. And perfume for that matter. He found it all fascinating, certainly–what one wished to smell like could only serve to further reflect not only one's personality, but also their insecurities–but he still hated it. He hated how everyone who wore it only seemed to reek of conformity (ironic considering that they were all trying to set themselves apart), of constantly trying to be perfect and smell "nice." And the fact that it obviously didn't work made it quite clear to him that they were all idiots.
But John was different. John never wore cologne or perfume, and it was only on the days that he spent the evening with one of his girlfriends that he smelled any different than usual. Sherlock hated those nights that John would come home smelling like fake watermelon, pungent roses, or an unnatural sweaty musk that smelled like a perfume department doubling as a gym. It made perfect sense for John not to wear any as he had a perfectly lovely scent that didn't bother Sherlock in the least. He didn't know quite what it was, but it was very familiar.
So it was very unusual for John to actually wear any, and that was how Sherlock knew that something was occupying John's usually vacant and simple mind. They sat down for dinner (at John's request) one night and Sherlock could smell something new, something different. Something definitely not John.
"Why are you wearing cologne, John?"
"Why, too much?"
"Any amount is too much, and don't answer my question with another question."
"Well, can't you just know why I am? Can't you just 'deduce' it?" He snapped back.
"I would say you have a new potential girlfriend, but if that was true you wouldn't have insisted on having dinner with me."
"Very good." He took a bite without looking at him. Sherlock waited for John to say something, but he just continued to eat. John finally noticed that Sherlock was staring at him.
"What?" He mumbled, his mouth half full of food.
"Are you not going to tell me the reason for the cologne?"
John gave a heavy sigh and leaned forward, closing his eyes and pinching his forehead.
"I want you." He said tentatively. He began to talk very fast. "People confuse us for a couple all the time but recently I…I've started to want it to be true. And I do, and I know that you might not want–"
"Yes."
John looked up, surprised. "What?"
"You're asking me out. I'm saying yes." And he smiled, a flirtatious one-sided smile that made John sweat.
"Really?"
"On one condition." Sherlock said very seriously. *Uh oh*, John thought. Sherlock leaned forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You go straight to the shower and wash that odor off your body."
John breathed out a sigh of relief and chuckled, "I think that can be arranged."
And it was. He went immediately to the shower and left Sherlock there, confused and yet very excited. Confused because he didn't know what was going to happen after John got out–what would they do? He honestly had no idea, and that excited him.
At least he had figured out why John had put on the stuff in the first place. He had obviously been nervous about asking Sherlock out, and as a consequence had decided to put more effort into it than he had with his other dates, a fact that gave Sherlock a distinct feeling of importance.
He started pacing. Waiting for John. Eager to find out what would unfold. Thinking. Pacing. But it didn't help. So he went and changed into a clean shirt just so that he would have something to do.
He came out and John still wasn't out. What was taking the man so damn long? He checked the clock and realized it had only been 10 minutes. It felt like it had been at least twice that time. He started pacing again, and after nearly slipping on the floor, stripped his socks off.
Five minutes.
So a total of 15 minutes. Sherlock closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, finally sinking to the floor, his knees slightly bent to brace himself.
And then he felt him. He opened his eyes to see John, standing above him. He slowly sank to his knees, so that he was straddling Sherlock. His hands found Sherlock's face. His deep blue eyes met Sherlock's for a few seconds, and then he was pulling him closer and closer, until their lips touched.
They were both shocked, and for the same reasons as well: at John's boldness of pursuing a make out session so soon, and at the fact that they were both thoroughly enjoying it. Sherlock's hands wrapped around John's waist, and John deepened the kiss by letting his tongue slip in. Sherlock reacted almost violently to the sensation, tightening his grip on John's waist as well as pulling him in closer. John couldn't help but smile at his reaction, knowing that this was obviously an area that he would have complete dominance over Sherlock in.
When they broke apart, Sherlock buried his face into the doctor's neck, breathing him in. He gave him a light kiss and then it hit him.
"Oranges." He whispered.
"Hm?" John murmured, his voice thick with contentment. One of Sherlock's hands cupped John's face, while the other found its way under his jumper to rest in the small of his back.
"You smell like oranges." It was obvious that John was confused as to how he should take the comment.
"Is that bad?"
"No." Sherlock smiled, and then tilted his head back a little and let out a hearty laugh. "You smell wonderful."
"Mmmm." John moaned, both from the satisfaction of the knowledge that Sherlock thought he smelled nice, and from the fact that Sherlock was now tracing small circles languidly along his back.
"John?"
"Yes, Sherlock?"
"Don't ever wear cologne again."
"Oh, I promise." And with that, he wound his fingers into Sherlock's hair and kissed him again. Sherlock melted into John, taking in a deep breath at the same time, allowing the intoxicating oranges that radiated from John's skin to soak into every fiber of his being. He never wanted to stop smelling it. And he never wanted John to be so far away that he had to.
It's so true. Everybody seems to have a particular scent. And just to make sure there's no confusion over that last sentence, Sherlock loves the smell because it's how John specifically smells. He doesn't want John to ever be far away because it's John, not because he's addicted to oranges. Make sense?
(But who doesn't love intoxicating oranges?)
I've got a few more ideas right now, but if anyone would like to review with an idea, I'm open to suggestions.
And besides, reviews make me very happy.