Day Nine: The word is 'move.'
The crime scene was grim; a mutilated body, spattered blood, very little evidence, and no witnesses. In other words, it was Sherlock's favorite type of crime scene because, for once, there was a puzzle that promised intrigue and challenge.
So why, then, was Sherlock unable to concentrate?
John. He was inconveniently distracting.
Too often, Sherlock found his mind wandering to thoughts of John and his gaze tracking John's movements. Anytime John was near, Sherlock felt his body go on alert. He wanted to taste him and touch him and know every inch of him; every scar, every wrinkle, every curve and plane.
Sherlock craved John.
And that wouldn't do.
Sherlock focused his attention enough to quickly rattle off his deductions, tell Lestrade to text him, and swoop dramatically from the crime scene, John not far behind.
The ride to Baker Street was silent. Sherlock watched the city slowly pass by through the cab window, though his mind was not on the gray, misty view.
He thought of the matter at hand. Emotions were admittedly not his strength and he'd bothered with them very little over the years. If anything, Sherlock prided himself on his ability to divorce himself from feelings and allow his work to command his full attention. This new…affection for John was unusual. He was certain nothing good would come of it and equally sure it would pass.
By the time Sherlock and John reached 221B, Sherlock had come up with his solution.
"John, you need to leave," Sherlock flung himself gracefully onto the sofa.
John threw him a confused look. "What?"
"I said, 'You need to leave.' Move out. This isn't working."
"…Right. You're hilarious."
"No, I'm very serious. I'll need you out by the end of the week."
John spluttered. "But…why?"
Sherlock schooled his face into a mask of indifference and tried to ignore the churning in his gut. "I already told you, this isn't working. You are no longer any use to me. Terminating this partnership is the most logical solution."
A pang of hurt and betrayal flashed through John. "Partnership? That's all this is? Sherlock, we're friends."
Sherlock waved a hand as if to brush aside John's words.
A surge of anger took over. "No. You can't just decide, out of the blue, that you are bored with me. I'm not a toy, Sherlock!" He shook his head and stomped to the sofa. "You don't just decide this is over. Not without a better reason." He crossed his arms and looked down at Sherlock.
"I gave you my reasons."
"I don't believe you. I know you're above all emotions and think sentiment is rubbish but I know you, Sherlock. You're more human than you'll admit," John nudged Sherlock over and sat next to him. "We're going to discuss this."
Sherlock watched him coolly. "There's nothing to discuss. I don't wish to continue living with you."
"And why exactly is that? And don't give me that 'You're no longer useful' bit again. We both know that's nonsense."
A few moments passed before Sherlock sighed heavily. "You are a distraction."
John blinked. "Come again?"
Sherlock gave him his patented 'don't be dull' look. "You distract me from my work. I can't concentrate with you around being…you. It isn't conducive to solving cases when all I think about is you and your mouth and being near you and—" Sherlock's words were cut off by John's very insistent lips against his own.
Sherlock's mind went blank for a moment—and wasn't that strange?—before he let his eyes drift closed and tentatively kissed John back.
Sensation flooded him; soft lips, warm breath, rapid pulse, the silky press of John's tongue tangled with his. Sherlock welcomed the rich flavor and delicate heat, cataloguing the information for later analyzing.
When John pulled back, Sherlock's half-lidded gaze was undiluted, raw lust. John didn't think he'd ever seen such open emotion on Sherlock's face before.
"You're an idiot," John said with affection. "I know this kind of thing isn't your area. That much is obvious. But I think we should try this. Whatever this is." He smiled crookedly.
Sherlock cleared his throat and tried to wrap his head around what was happening. "It is possible that I jumped to conclusions too quickly," Sherlock pondered the situation with renewed clarity. "In fact, I believe you are even more useful than before. Perhaps this will be a welcome distraction." He shifted closer to John and lightly stroked his jaw, mapping John's face with his fingertips. And then decidedly: "I could never become bored of you." Sherlock gave John a fierce but chaste kiss.
John watched Sherlock intently. "I'm not leaving." It wasn't a question.
"No."
"Good."
A/N: This is one of those drabbles that was very quickly inching into full fic territory. I had to control myself.
It's also something I might consider toying with and turning it into said full fic. We shall see xD
