Hello guys. If you are reading this, it means that you actually survived that massive chapter yesterday. This one is short and sweet. A bit of fluff to relieve the angst I've been writing. Thank you, observationoftrifles, for reviewing every single chapter. The little green wheel that turns when I click the refresh button on my email has a large amount of power over my happiness. Please, please review. Until tomorrow, all my love.
Chapter 8
John stood on the counter, feeling more and more flustered by the second. He had been sure that this was a good idea. Now the eyes of about twenty people were fixed on him and he seemed to have run out of words.
Sherlock on the other hand, could not stop grinning. He was so happy that it wasn't going to be selfish to do all the things he had always wanted to do to John; well... to John, on John, under John - you get the idea, he had completely forgotten that his doctor was still on the counter.
John, cleared his throat: "Uhm, Sherlock ? Love ?" He said the last word very hesitantly. Sherlock suddenly seem to come alive as he realised that John was very uncomfortable. The tall detective stepped onto the counter in one impossibly fluid motion and whispered in John's ear: "I'm going to kiss you now. Don't run away again."
John just smiled and wrapped his hands around Sherlock's waist, pulling him close. When he felt Sherlock's heart beating hard against his own, his desperation became unbearable. He all but slammed his lips into Sherlock's.
The detective moaned softly as John's hands stroked the back of his neck. He slid his tongue over John's surprisingly soft lips, savouring the taste of John. He never wanted to taste anything else. He couldn't believe that it was possible for two human beings to occupy the space of one, that was before he had met John. He groaned as John's lips pushed harder into his.
After Lestrade had cleared his throat for the third time, they finally pulled apart and climbed down from the counter. Sherlock grinned sheepishly, John admired how he had never seen Sherlock look sheepish.
The NSY slowly started trickling out of the door, taking the diamond with them for forensic testing. Eventually only Sherlock and John were left, sharing a single cushion on the waiting room sofa, waiting for what was now, apparently, their puppy.
A few hours later they were heading home; Sherlock carrying a small, slightly injured, English Bulldog puppy. His expression was very -for lack of a better word- motherly. "Hi, well we do not have a name for you yet." John was confused for a moment, until he realised that Sherlock was talking to the dog.
He just watched with quiet amusement as Sherlock continued. "But I sure am glad we got that stone out of yo-" Sherlock stopped abruptly. "John, I got it !" John calmly asked: "What do you mean, love? We solved the case." "No, no ! We can call him Gladstone ! Because we were glad to get the stone out of him. Glad-stone"
John couldn't help it, he just laughed. "What's so funny, John ?" "Sherlock, you want to name this dog after William Ewart Gladstone ? One of Britain's greatest prime ministers ?" Sherlock looked at him quizzically, "Who ?" At this, John started shaking uncontrollably and when he finally got his breath back he turned to the dog: "You have a complete madman for a master, you need to know that, Gladstone."
That night, John slept comfortably in Sherlock's arms. There wasn't any form of discussion, it was an unspoken agreement. They were never letting go of each other. Not again. It was devastatingly romantic, until Gladstone wormed himself in between John and his detective.
The following morning, John dragged Sherlock to a department store.
"Sherlock, it is your dog, you are going to shop for it. It needs a bed and a firm hand" Sherlock looked adorable when he was indignant, "John, Gladstone is not an 'it'. Gladstone is a 'he'."
With a large amount of effort, John got Sherlock in a cab. The shopping went as well as you could expect it to go with Sherlock. He did have one employee, who didn't know which dog food brand was better for a pure-bred English Bulldog, in tears. He also caused quite an upset when he exposed one of the managers, that had some -questionable- business dealings.
In the end though, they got a bed for Gladstone. Because John had a few other ideas for the bed he now shared with Sherlock and none of them involved a young English Bulldog.
