Chapter 2: Morning Habits
By SH
Notes: Yes I used Latin and French because I'm classy that way. I'm keeping these chapters shorter so I don't just get through the conflict too quickly. Which eventually there will be. And holy shit you guys are amazing, so many of you viewed the first chapter and I am in a loss for words but I give you my gratitude and love. Enjoy.
Strange. The only word that could skim the feeling of being in a relationship with the Sherlock Holmes. John Watson wasn't expecting a normal relationship but he also wasn't it to be so…strange.
Sherlock Holmes had always been alone and never in a relationship. Come to think of it Sherlock had never been in anything romantic until John. The woman was the closest and still that barely counted. Sherlock was also a sociopath. John had never dated any sociopaths (that he knew of). So their relationship was strange. Not uncomfortable strange. Or "Bloody Hell what is that thing?!" strange. Simply strange. Different. Peculiar. Odd. Weird. Foreign.
Alas John could not complain. He liked the companionship especially since there was more to it than just friendship. John loved the way Sherlock stole quick kisses in between sips of tea when they were alone. John loved the way he came home from work to an exacerbated Sherlock who instantly wrapped his long arms around him and droned on about how bored he had been. John loved the way that Sherlock snuck into John's bed at ungodly hours after finally finishing his experiments. John loved the way that Sherlock held his hand in the cabs. John loved the way that Sherlock was new to being a boyfriend. John loved the way that Sherlock was trying to learn to be in a relationship. John loved the way that Sherlock was Sherlock.
Maybe it was because John was dating a guy instead of a girl that made it so strange. When he got up from bed that morning he decided that it felt strange because of just that. Because he was newly gay, or whatever.
The side of the bed where the pale man usually was, was empty. John stretched and pulled on a robe before heading into the living room. Sherlock was asleep at the table on the keyboard of his laptop with a link open for an article about bite marks left by different animals. John shook his head and went back into his room to retrieve a pillow. He gently set the black curls adorned head off the laptop and onto the pillow. John closed the laptop and put it next to the genius.
The doctor turned on the kettle and a pan. He cracked some eggs and started to scramble them as Sherlock's calm breathing spread into the kitchen. John hummed one of Sherlock's songs that he played on the violin all the time. He didn't remember the name and hardly remembered the tune but he hummed the few notes he did know over and over.
A groan came behind him and a dragging call of, "Joooohhhhnnnn." John continued to scramble the eggs as the consulting detective stretched and went to stand behind John watching his hand move the spatula around the pan. Sherlock mumbled something that sounded like Latin into John's ear while he wrapped his arms around the doctor's waist and pulled his close.
"What did you say?" John asked over his shoulder. Sherlock was in sweats and a v neck, most likely the same outfit he had worn for three days.
"Intret amicitiæ nomine tectus amor." Sherlock repeated before kissing John's cheek.
"And what does that mean?"
"Fatigo nemo." Sherlock purred into his ear. John scoffed and turned back to his eggs when the kettle started to whistle. Sherlock released the doctor and retrieved two mugs. Sherlock made the tea while John placed the eggs onto two plates. He knew Sherlock would probably not eat the eggs but it was a habit. Sherlock watching John eat and sometimes nibbling on something. A few weeks and already a habit, it made John smile. Even if it was basically a habit when they were just friends it seemed established now that they were officially together.
"Maybe we could switch back to English? Or I know some French?" John requested sitting down at the table with a mug and plate of eggs.
"Français, c'est Mister Watson." Sherlock spoke in French smoothly before sipping his tea and sitting across from the doctor.
"Je dois travailler tard ce soir. Lestrade a vous a appelé à un cas?"(Translation: I have to work late tonight. Has Lestrade called you with a case?)John asked roughly, he hadn't spoken in French in a couple years.
"Oui, une pendaison d'un jeune homme avec des traces de morsures couvrant la poitrine. Aucun indice quitté le contraire." (Translation: Yes, a hanging of a youth with bite marks left on the chest. No clues otherwise.) Sherlock nodded and responded.
"A hanging? Where?" John asked switching back to English deciding it was too early to be speaking in another tongue.
"University of Winchester, I might go down there to look at the body and match the marks. When will you be home?" Sherlock stretched out his long legs under the table and nudged John's feet with his own bare ones.
John smiled through a bite of eggs and swallowed before saying, "Not 'til next morning. You'll be fine on your own I assume."
"Of course I will, but you should make it up to me when you get back."
"For leaving you for a day?" John laughed.
"Yes, I think you should agree to what I proposed last week." Sherlock requested raising an eyebrow and moving a bare foot along John's calf and thigh.
"Sherlock I am not-" John was cut off by a sudden pressure to his groin that made him gasp.
Sherlock stood and walked over to where John sat before kneeling before him and running his slender hands up and down John's thighs. His ice blue eyes flickered up to John's dilated pupils.
"Sherlock…" John moaned throwing his head back when Sherlock started to palm the stiffening crotch. Sherlock pulled down John's pajama pants and began to suck the cock through John's briefs. John cursed under his breath before muttering, "Fine."
Sherlock smiled before he continued. John was ten minutes late to work, but it was completely worth it.