All the Small Things
Chapter 1
Ok, so, this is the sequel to Die Romantic (sequel of Pale Blue Eyes) and John and Sherlock are an adorable little couple :3
John is being fussy about Sherlock they are intimate. Enjoy!
"Sherlock, have you been smoking?" John asked. Sherlock looked up, keeping his eyes fixed into John's, rather than instinctively glancing at his desk draw which held his lighter and cigarettes
"No, I quit." He said, looking back down at his laptop. He heard John stand up and approach him
"I know that, but I can smell smoke. I don't smoke, nor does Mrs. Hudson and we haven't had any visitors today, and it's too cold to have windows open… I know you've been stressed, Sherlock, I'm not angry." Sherlock looked up at him and sighed
"Fine, you're right.." he muttered, opening his drawer, defeated. John snatched the items away
"Confiscated." He said, putting them in his pocket and handed Sherlock a Nicotine patch from the mantelpiece. Sherlock shook his head, raising his left arm and moving his sleeve back to reveal two already stuck to his arm
"I'm alright for now, thanks." He said, albeit bitterly. John smirked
"I'll tell you what: I will allow you one cigarette a day as a limit - but you can only have it after sex." Sherlock looked up, a blush creeping towards his nose.
"That's not fair!" he cried, John grinned at how cute he was sometimes and shrugged
"That's how it is, Sherlock, if you really need a cigarette you have to tell me." He said, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Sherlock sighed and looked back at his screen, his mouth thin and angry. John chuckled and went to make himself a sandwich
"You're too thin, Sherlock." John commented, gently touching his boyfriend's prominent hip bones as he lay down.
"Merely opinion." Sherlock said, his eyes closed as he thought
"Not if you're medically underweight... How much do you weigh?" Sherlock sighed
"I have absolutely no idea." John sighed and got up, grabbing Sherlock's hand. The blue eyes opened "What's happening?"
"We're going to weigh you." His lover said gruffly, pulling him up
"Why?"
"Because I think you are too skinny." He said, pulling him into the small toilet to get the scales. Sherlock sighed
"Surely body mass has nothing to do with how 'skinny' someone is… It's down to bones, skin, water…muscle and fat-"
"Of which you have neither, Sherlock. Come on, on you get." Sherlock looked bored but obeyed, standing on the scales. It took a few seconds to calculate then beeped and showed them a number. "Nine stone three - Sherlock, you are severely underweight for your height."
"How tall do you think I am?" John made a considering face, looking at him then shrugged
"6 foot?" Sherlock sighed
"6 foot and half an inch, actually." John smirked
"That's it; you're eating properly starting today."
"How much do you weigh then?" he asked, getting off the scales. John sighed and got on himself
"There, see! I'm over 2 stone heavier than you and about 5 inches shorter. That's not good, Sherlock." He knew Sherlock didn't care but that was going to change, he didn't want him getting ill. "Come on, I'll make us some dinner." He said, leading him back out into the living room. "What do you like to eat, Sherlock? I don't think I've ever seen you eat anything."
"That's because I don't like eating in front of people." He said, sitting at his desk. "And anyway, I do eat. I ate a crumpet yesterday.." he muttered. John smiled at him
"Do you eat meat?" Sherlock looked at him then down, reading the paper - or at least pretending to "Ok…vegetables? Fruit? Eggs? Bread? Cheese?"
"Oh, for God's sake, John, cook whatever you want." He growled, turning on his laptop. John sighed and nodded, going into the kitchen.
The end result was chicken casserole. John had noticed Sherlock glance up occasionally from his laptop, sniff the air or crane his neck to try to look in the kitchen without looking interested. He was so cute sometimes, even if he was being a stubborn twat.
"Here we go, Sherlock. Come and sit at the table like a good boy." Sherlock stayed where he was for a moment then got up and went over, frowning
"Don't treat me like I'm four, John." The older man chuckled
"I will if you stop acting like it." He said, placing the casserole dish in the centre before going to get plates and cutlery. Sherlock sat down slowly, more curious than anything else. John returned and set the table, smirking at Sherlock "Do you like chicken, Sherlock?" he asked. Sherlock shrugged
"I suppose, I don't tend to like food.. It's just-"
"Just transport, right?" Sherlock sighed, nodding and both thought back to their first mission together… "Well, let's tuck in, hm?" John said, keeping the thought in his mind, and opened the lid to the casserole dish. The aromas released made him feel warm, reminding of his childhood when his mother would cook stews on cold days for he and his sister, Harriet, after coming in from riding their bikes. John looked at Sherlock after his little flashback, seeing him looking at the dish with wide eyes and his lips parted "Hungry?" the blue eyes looked at him and nodded. John grinned and served them both a healthy portion each, giving Sherlock slightly more, and they dug in ravenously. John watched Sherlock with a grin as he devoured a whole plate of food plus extra. While eating, Sherlock glanced up at him then back down to his plate then raised his head to look at him fully, frowning
"What?"
"Nothing… Why are you so hungry?"
"I haven't eaten in days." Sherlock said, like it was obvious
"Didn't you realise you were this hungry?" Sherlock shrugged again, continuing his meal. John smiled, shaking his head, eating too. It was then that he remembered what he'd vaguely noticed last night "Sherlock, where did you get those bruises?" the blue eyes looked up, still eating, and frowned
"Bruises?"
"Yes, I saw some last night - on your ribs. Are they from when you were on the streets?" Sherlock sighed, still eating his dinner
"I suppose so - it's just a thing they do, the new person on the pavement gets a beating." He said with a shrug, eyes going back down to his plate.
"That's awful! Do they hurt?" another shrug. John sighed, giving up again and letting the meal go by without further interrogation or concern. After they were finished, Sherlock offered to do the washing up but John refused to allow him, telling him to sit on the sofa and read the paper. Sherlock sighed in annoyance but quietly did as he was told. Once the dishes were in the drying rack, John returned to living room and sat down "Sherlock," he said, the pale man looking up just in time to see and catch the small box the doctor had thrown to him
"Take two with water, then again in the morning - it'll help with the pain." John said, his eyes on his laptop as he opened it. Sherlock looked at him for a moment then smiled, again obeying.
Yes…there you go…
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PMKnut xx
