I humbly apologise for the horrendous wait for this one, I'm putting it down to severe writers block and two weeks in Spain without internet access. It's a little shorter than usual but I'm hoping the sheer amount of fluff will make up for it :D
Disclaimer: Don't own anything :/
Chapter 4:
In seconds Sherlock was pulling John away from the now bloodied forensics officer with a suspected broken nose. They piled into a cab and sat panting in the back while the adrenaline subsided. Now that the initial shock had drained from his system, John feels a dull throbbing building up in his knuckles as he reaches subconsciously to assess the damage, wincing slightly at the contact. "That bastard had a bloody solid nose." a small chuckle escaping as he spoke, turning to face Sherlock. A grin spreads across the detectives features "It's your fault for punching his thick Neanderthal skull... But he had it coming." he reached across the seat to his partners now slightly swollen hand, ghosting his finger tips across the knuckles.
"I'm sorry that you didn't get to check out the scene though love." John said looking apologetically at the detective. "Quite alright John, I managed to get a good enough look around while you were abusing Anderson." he said lightly, a playful smirk adorning his lips. "In fact, the case proved to be rather more transparent than I had hoped." the undertone of irritation was subtle but evident, passing quickly at the sight of the doctor's bewildered expression. "You... How did you even..." Johns mouth opened then closed again as he knitted his eyebrows in utter confusion and amazement. "You think you know how they were killed then?" he said finally, accepting the fact that he could never begin to understand how the young genius had worked it out. "I don't think that I know, I'm almost certain." Sherlock said in his 'don't be dull' voice. John felt a sudden rush of admiration towards his brilliant and completely unfathomable partner, in one swift motion he cupped the younger man's face and kissed him deeply. The detective was startled, to say the least, but soon melted into the touch of his fiancé. "You are amazing..." John whispered against his perfect lips, "...just brilliant." Cradling the younger man's face in his hands he gazed into the stormy grey eyes that still held the spark of the game, "And you're mine." he said softly, capturing his lips once more, but this time with less urgency.
Almost as soon as they parted, Sherlock began reeling off his numerous deductions that had led him to the, 'obvious' as he had put it, conclusion. Occasionally being interrupted by spontaneous declarations of 'amazing' or 'fantastic'. After which the detective would pause, casting a brief affectionate glance at his partner before launching back into the explanation of his brilliance and how the police were even more inept that he had previously thought.
Once John was sure that the detective had finished his somewhat lengthy explanation, he allowed himself a moment for the new information to sink in and to suppress his astonishment a little before he finally spoke. "That was bloody brilliant and everything," he began "But we should really be going to the yard to inform them of their so called idiocy?" Sherlock looked at his partner almost sulkily, "Technically yes, but I never have been one for what some would call 'the proper channels'. And besides, it has just accrued to me that I haven't had more than 12 hours alone with my new fiancé..." he paused sheepishly "and I was hoping to pick up where we left off..." At this, John thought his heart had literally melted, seeing his usually confident, aloof fiancé become shy, timid and almost childlike. He paused for a moment before speaking in order to collect the thoughts that had been scattered, "Alright then," he said at length "Anyway, we're already home." John paid the cabbie and got out, reaching for the detectives hand as he went. "However I have one condition." he said as they entered the flat. Sherlock raised an eyebrow inquisitively, "We are not having another flour fight" with a mock seriousness in his tone.
As soon as the detective entered the living room of 221b, he promptly planted himself on the sofa pulling a rather startled army doctor down with him as he turned on the telly to watch some mediocre Thursday evening programming. Sherlock resided himself to his habitual position with his head on Johns lap while his partner absently rubbed small circles on his forehead.
After about an hour of sitting, attempting to watch midsummer murders that was continually interrupted by Sherlock, John decided to do something more constructive. Placing a small kiss on the side of the detectives head, he made his way to the kitchen in search of food. As usual it was in vain, the only thing they had in the fridge was a few assorted thumbs in the veg box and eyeballs floating in an old jam jar. "Don't touch the eyes, they are at a critical stage of the experiment." the baritone voice of his lover came from the living room as if he could read Johns mind, he chuckled slightly. He's good, but not that good he thought to himself. "Yes I am." Sherlock replied to his thoughts. John came to the door of the kitchen with a baffled expression on his face, "Now you're just showing off." half a smirk battling its way onto his features. "Of course I am, I'm a show off. It's what we do." self satisfaction clearly visible on the chiselled features of the consulting detective who was now stood in the middle of the room. John closed the gap between them with swift military precision, meeting Sherlock's lips with passion and purpose. A warm tongue probed the Cupid bow lips which parted easily, allowing free roam for a while before the detective started to push back seeking dominance. But John won out this time, grazing his teeth on the lower lip then soothing with his tongue, just the way he knew Sherlock liked.
They parted eventually, slightly breathless, eyes glistening with lust. "What was that for?" Sherlock asked quizzically "It didn't have to be 'for' anything," John replied "But if you must know, it was to wipe that irksome smirk off your face." he admitted. "In that case I might just have to do that more often." said the detective with a mischievous tone in his voice. "You're insufferable, you know that." kissing Sherlock on the nose and leaning into the embrace of his fiancé.
Realising their slightly awkward position, being adrift in the middle of the room, Sherlock guided them to the sofa where they settled once again without releasing the hold of one another. By now it was rather late, take out was ordered from Angelo's and eaten from the sofa. The detective stood soon after finishing clearing the plates into the kitchen and upon his return he found John dozing against the cushions. "John," he whispered softly, "John, you need to go to bed." as he gently smoothed the blonde tousled hair, the shorter man came round slightly "Sherlock," he murmured raising his head slightly, "Am in bed already." he said sleepily before falling back onto the pillow. "No, you're not love," Sherlock said slightly amusedly "Come on, time for bed."
With that Sherlock threaded his arm around the sleep slackened torso of his partner, pulling him off the couch, half guiding, half dragging the doctor to his bedroom. They didn't usually sleep in his room; Sherlock had always thought John's bed was better than his own, it always seemed warmer, more comfortable, more John. But he didn't fancy his chances with the stairs tonight. The detective sat John on the expensive sheets and helped him out of his clothes until he was in boxers and a t-shirt then tucked him under the covers. Padding round to the other side of the bed, he removed his shirt, trousers and socks and climbed in to join his fiancé. "Good night John." he said softly, planting a kiss on the back of his head before curling up with his lover.