Day 10 - December 15th

Note: This chapter has the boys watching the Star Trek: The Next Generation pilot. If you don't know it, we suggest you go watch it, it's on Netflix! ;)

Other note: The reference to their adventures in Cardiff makes more sense if you've read our story When Their Paths Crossed, which is actually the sequel to What Have We become, but can be read independently (though we of course suggest that you read the entire trilogy that is concluded in When Their Paths Crossed Again). Enjoy.

On Sunday, a flash of inspiration had come to John that could perhaps keep Sherlock busy.

"You'll love it," he told Sherlock as he was trying to convince him. "At least I always loved Star Trek. And it won't be bad to know a little more about space travel either, if in the future we encounter more adventures like we did in Cardiff."

"John," Sherlock said with a heavy sigh. "You don't seriously believe we can learn anything factual from an American science fiction series, do you?"

"Shush," John said, dragging Sherlock to the sofa. "I really want to watch it with you."

"Then say that," Sherlock said, following reluctantly. "Don't try to sell it as something it is not."

John rolled his eyes and put the Star Trek: The Next Generation pilot on on the telly.

Sherlock focused on the screen for a moment, then snorted at the opening credits. "Are they serious? I may not know much about the solar system, but even I know those proportions are wrong"

"Ssh. Just enjoy it. It doesn't have to be right to be fun," John said.

"The music is kind of repetitive, isn't it?"

"Kind of," John shrugged.

Sherlock managed to watch in silence almost 30 seconds into the actual episode before speaking up again.

"Why are the women in such short dresses? That hardly seems practical."

"I know. I guess it works as long as they don't have to fight," John answered.

"Then why aren't the men in shorts? Or bare chested? If it's so hot on the ship that the women have to be half naked? Except the boots of course… And what's with her hair? It's… insane…"

"Yeah, alright. I didn't choose their costumes and looks, did I?" John said with a pointed look at Sherlock's curls.

Sherlock glanced at him and then focused back on the screen. "What the hell?" he exclaimed. "A chainlink fence in space? Really?" Then he snorted as the antagonist appeared. "Oh my god. I take it back. Better the strippers than that!"

John snorted too. "Yeah, okay, the costumes aren't so great."

"What did they do? Pop over and borrow it from a low budget production of Hamlet?"

John giggled. "Maybe."

"And what's with the pale guy? What's wrong with his eyes?"

"Just listen and find out," John smiled. "He's cool."

Sherlock was clearly not convinced but focused back on the show. "It doesn't make sense he's making log comments about things that happen mid-scene," he commented. "Unless he's making them mentally as things are happening, and that would be rather stupid. Who'd want to keep a record of that?"

"Yeah, alright," John said, not really listening to him.

"Oh great… Now he's clad in bubble wrap…"

"Great to avoid bruises," John smiled.

"What happened to that guy's head?"

"He was born like that. He's a Klingon, obviously," John said smugly.

"A what? A cling-on? Sounds kind of… icky…"

John giggled. "Sounds like you when you're sleeping."

"Oh… Well, then it's kind of charming, I guess."

"You, charming? Hah," John grinned.

"Always," Sherlock said and pulled him over for a quick kiss.

John giggled again and looked back at the telly.

Sherlock did not really try to concentrate, but was more interested in kissing John's neck and ear lazily. Until a new monstrosity brought his attention back to the screen.

"If this is supposed to be a court of the future, why are they dressed as if they were from the Middle Ages?" he demanded. "I like the pale one, though. He's very observant. She's not. Everything she says seems… pointless." Just as John was about to respond, he continued, "Those projections of Earth future seem rather far fetched, but then again, they were written in the 80s. People were quite paranoid back then. So… dystopic."

"Sometimes I wish you had a mute button," John said, shaking his head slightly. "Oh, thanks, Freddie. That's very kind," he told the butler as he put down a tray with two cups of tea and a plate of biscuits.

"That does not make sense. What is the purpose of a court if the sentence has already been decided in advance? It's so… inefficient…" Sherlock huffed and sipped his tea. "Can't we watch something that isn't complete nonsense?"

"Where would be the fun in that? What would you rant about? At least this has a legal system for you to comment on," John said.

Sherlock sighed dramatically, but remained silent until all the biscuits were gone.

"Who's that one?" he asked after a while. "Another captain?"

"First officer," John corrected. "His name is Riker."

"He's a prat," Sherlock concluded. "What's wrong with him? Has he got his head so far up his own arse that he cannot see what's going on right in front of him? Of course there's something fishy about the fruit, but he doesn't care, as long as he gets his apple. They should have given him a banana. More fitting."

John laughed. "Oh, he's quite alright. Give him a little more time."

"Is he hitting on that boy? That's disgusting."

"What? He's not," John said.

"Oh, come on!" Sherlock gestured at the screen. "Did you see the look he gave him when he said, 'See you onboard'? I could get him arrested for that look alone."

"He always looks like that. Calm down."

"Ewh," Sherlock said and got up to go find more biscuits.

John gave the detective's back a fond look and decided to enjoy his Sherlock-free moment.

Sherlock returned a few minutes later, having found not only biscuits but also some of Mycroft's chocolates, which he was saving for Christmas Eve. He flopped down next to John with a happy grin. "Did I miss anything? Of course I didn't. Chocolate?"

"Yeah, thanks," John said, taking one, not bothering to tell Sherlock what had happened as he had probably already deduced it.

"Why do it manually?" Sherlock asked after a while. "Surely a spaceship like that will be able to connect better on its own than with an imbecile guiding it."

"The Captain is testing his abilities," John shrugged.

"And risking the lives of everyone on board. He knows nothing about that man's abilities. Surely someone that reckless would not be given command of a vessel with such a vast crew."

"I'm sure Captain Picard knows what he's doing. I know I'd follow him," John said, lazily shifting back to sit more comfortably.

"That's the least convincing aging makeup I've ever seen. I could do better than that. I have done better than that. And the whole scene seemed pointless," Sherlock whined. "Do we have to watch this?"

"It's better than doing nothing and listening to how bored you are," John said.

"Oh? You prefer me being annoyed?" Sherlock stood up. "You watch it. I'll find something else to do."

"Oh, come on, Sherlock, just stay. You don't have to watch it, but let's just cuddle," John said, taking his hand.

Sherlock considered, then flopped back down and reattached his lips to John's neck, switching between sucking and blowing softly on the skin.

"You're distracting me," John mumbled.

Sherlock did not answer, but doubled his efforts, placing one hand very high up on John's thigh.

"I suppose the point is distracting me," John commented, his eyes still on the screen.

Sherlock managed a shrug without dislodging his lips. His hand moved further up and in, until it was cupping John's crotch. He gave it a soft squeeze.

John suppressed a moan. "Yeah, okay, and I suppose you've won." He pulled Sherlock up so he could kiss him and pushed into his hand.

Sherlock flicked the button of John's trousers open with his thumb and began pulling the zipper down. John continued to kiss him deeply, his hands wandering down to find their way up Sherlock's shirt.

Freddie, who was bringing another tray, decided there was no immediate need for tea. He turned around and hurried back to the kitchen.