A Single Train of Thought
They give you things.
In first class train travel they're forever trying to serve. Sandwich? Coffee? Tea? A bit of banter, flirting, free wi-fi…what can we do for you?
"Fuck off."
Sherlock kicked John under the table. He rarely did that, but he's learning a lot from his lover and enjoys employing new-found skills. Covert kicking is the latest and he finds it surprisingly pleasurable.
"Why are you kicking me?"
Sherlock smiled smugly (he didn't learn that from John, but they've certainly augmented one another's natural tendency). "You're being inappropriate, John."
John wasn't listening, he was trying to get his hand in Sherlock's trousers again and was again foiled by another trolley-bearing steward offering wine, fresh fruit, or fucking kittens, for all John knew.
"Do they think we'll starve between Cardiff and London? And why is your belt so god damn tight?"
John had woke hard as the Browning's barrel this morning and they hadn't had time to, mmm, unhard him before catching their train home. As a result he was nearly crawling into Sherlock's lap.
"Five minutes. I just need five. Three. I can manage with three."
About then the train entered the darkened Severn tunnel, trolley service temporarily ceased, and good Dr. Watson did one thing, then another and in less than three minutes—"Oh god"—proved his boast.
Anarion, the queen of 221Bs, Verity Burns, the fic queen of this fandom, and myself traveled by train to London recently. We challenged one another to write train travel-themed 221Bs. Yet that didn't seem like party enough, so Ariane DeVere and Stacey were kind enough to make it a proper celebration by adding their own. Enjoy!