John bit his lip and smirked when he saw the jumpers and the shirts. "Oh, Lockie..!" He lifted them one by one, admiring each of them with a delighted look on his face. "This is wonderful, Sherlock, you didn't have t- Oh." He had spotted the small box at the bottom. "What's this?"
Sherlock allowed him to see for himself, smile a little shy. "I'm...glad you like them," he said, "I'm not really a shopper, but at least I got the sizes right."
John stared at the box, and nodded absently at Sherlock as he opened it. He stared at the watch inside and gasped, looking at Sherlock with wide eyes. "You bought me a watch? Sherlock, you're insane! That's bloody expensive!"
Sherlock sighed dramatically, remembering how they always had this conversation whenever he bought him something out of the ordinary. He had tried the explanations about money not being an issue and that he did it because he wanted to, but John never seemed to listen. "If you don't like it, just say so," he muttered tiredly. "It took forever for me to find, so you don't have to be so critical."
John grinned widely and looked from the watch to Sherlock and back. "Oh, you beautiful idiot," he said, giving Sherlock a grateful look and a tight hug. "I love it, thank you so much." He closed his eyes when he inhaled Sherlock's cologne, the one that smelled of home. "It's beautiful, Sherlock, thank you so much."
Sherlock couldn't help but laugh a bit, as he warmly hugged him back, enjoying the closeness and warmth of having John in his arms. "Me or the watch?" he joked, laughing softly and closing his eyes too. It had truly been far too long.
John turned his head a bit, and his smile disappeared when he suddenly had the overwhelming desire to press a kiss to that soft, smooth skin. His grip on Sherlock's waist tightened while he kept silent, just... just enjoying this.
Feeling John cling to him tighter, Sherlock wished they could do this all the time. He had never felt – nor would ever feel – about anyone the way he felt for John. He gently whispered after a bit, "I really, really, really missed you. And this."
John nodded, eyes closed again. "Me too, Sherlock." He rubbed Sherlock's back once and then let go, smiling up at him. "So, erm... Thank you. F-for the watch, and the hug, of course." He cleared his throat and held his left wrist out, holding the watch in his other hand. "Honour's up to you."
Sherlock smiled, "Seems a shame to cover up even part of that lovely arm," he chuckled, very gently and caringly fixing the new watch onto his wrist, concentrating on fitting it perfectly so that is wasn't too loose or tight.
John looked down at his wrist when Sherlock's slender fingers fastened the wrist band. All he saw of Sherlock's face was his nose, the rest was covered with dark, soft curls. "Not when it's such a beautiful watch," John said softly, smiling softly at Sherlock. "Thank you."
Sherlock grinned slightly, "There you go, perfect fit. You're welcome, by the way. Now – I believe we had plans?"
John grinned too. "Yes. Yes, we had. Dinner, I believe? Well, Mr. Holmes, get your coat. This soldier is starving."
Sherlock laughed lightly, getting into his dark coat. John still remembered the little things, and Sherlock was genuinely touched by that. When they were ready to leave, he offered the young army doctor his arm.
John chuckled and took his friend's arm, not caring about the weird looks they got. "So, Lock, any interesting cases you've solved?" he asked his friend.
"Helped out with one at my Uni, actually. Missing teacher," he grinned, "got abducted while getting a naval piercing, quite amusing."
John's eyes widened. "A nava- how did you find that out?" he asked, eyes dancing with mirth. "You must have been brilliant, Sherlock. I want to know everything."
Sherlock grinned and started rattling of details. "One of the teachers never showed up for a lecture, and after many attempts to contact her, she still could not be found. The campus asked me to investigate so that the police wouldn't have to be involved, hence preserving the reputation of the university. Following my initial inquiries, I was able to locate the last place she was seen alive by anyone other than her abductor. She was at a small piercing salon in outer London."
John smirked, and opened the door to the restaurant for him. "And why was she abducted? By whom?"
"Thanks," Sherlock smiled, walking through and hanging up his coat like usual, "well, turns out the piercing went 'wrong'…and she was stabbed in the stomach with an anaesthetic needle. I traced the instruments used back to a shady clinic out in Surrey. That was where they were holding her. I managed to ascertain via the clinic secretary…women are very liable to flattery and, well – attention…where she was being held. It was my theory that her captors had seen in her some physical attribute they could use to their advantage. After rescuing her from the confines of an equipment storeroom, I was told that she was being held because of her blood type. Apparently, the piercing salon had infected the blood of some relatively wealthy customer by using rusted instruments on them, and – as the customer did not want to make public that he had got a piercing, hence his choice of salon – the individual agreed not to sue in return for the rare AB blood type which he required for his transfusion."
John stared at Sherlock as they sat down at their table. "That was brilliant, Sherlock! Awesome." He nodded enthusiastically. "That you found that out…amazing! How long did it take you this time?"
"Uhm," he said, blushing a bit, "forty eight hours…" Yes. Forty eight hours of Mrs Hudson lecturing about sleep and food, but at least he had got the job done!
John kept nodding, even when he picked up the card. "Brilliant, Sherlock. Brilliant as ever." He glanced at his friend over the menu, smiling fondly at him. "Did they pay you?"
The young man smiled, "They wanted to, but I refused, so in the end they decided to let me take an extra degree of my choice for free."
John frowned. "You never told me, Sherlock. Which one did you choose?"
"A Masters in Medical Science," he said softly, smiling at him, "helps me conduct my own autopsies."
John looked impressed. "Wow, well.. On top of literature and Law and Science? You sure that's gonna be alright? It's quite much…"
"I don't have much else to do, do I? My cases come and go, and they don't take long to solve. What else am I supposed to fill the empty time with?"
John hummed softly. "Well, what did you do before you went to uni? You did experiments, went out with friends…Or how about eat and sleep?"
"I spent most of my time with you, remember?" he said quietly, looking away. "I only ate and slept because you made me. Besides, I…I like the work. It makes me feel like I have a purpose."
John frowned and lowered the menu. "You do have a purpose, Sherlock. You know you do."
"I used to think so too. Anyhow," Sherlock said, forcing a smile and quickly changing the subject, "what do you feel like? The usual, or are you daring enough now to try something new and exotic?"
John wasn't fooled this easily, but refused to let it ruin their night out. "I think I'll try something else. I've begun to appreciate salmon. Bill Murray taught me how to like it, so I'll go for pasta with Salmon, I think. It's the most adventurous I can handle for now."
Sherlock grinned and nodded, "Wise choice, John. I think I'll opt for butter chicken myself. I've not tried Angelo's," he waved the man over and allowed John to order.
John ordered, as well as a bottle of wine, and a pitcher with water. He sat back and just enjoyed being home. "It's good to be home," he told Sherlock. "More than before, actually." He grinned a bit. "I hadn't missed it like this before."
Author's Note: SherlockedSherlockian (Playing Sherlock)
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