This idea came to me when I was watching ASiB again. Apparently my muse liked the idea of Sherlock rating the crimes he consulted on. ;)
Rated K+ (T, if you squint)
Crime-Rated
The ringing sound only slowly penetrated the sleep-induced haze his mind was happily floating in. Too tired he'd been when he'd finally fallen asleep a few hours ago, exhausted and heavy-limbed. Reaching for his phone on his nightstand turned out to require much more effort than he was actually willing to invest at these early Saturday morning hour, but then he thought was it still better than risking the phone disturbing the pleasant quiet any longer, or even repeatedly.
"John? It's Greg," he heard DI Lestrade the moment he finally picked up, not even having the time to wake his vocal cords for a greeting first. "We've got a case. Dead body at the tube, missing his feet. Do you know where Sherlock is? He doesn't reply to my messages."
"Greg, it's seven on a Saturday morning. Did it occur to you that some people might still be asleep?" John outright grumbled, but in that moment he couldn't have cared less about politeness.
"Yeah, sorry mate, thought you might be; not Sherlock though. But since I can't reach him..." Hardly suppressing a groan, the doctor let himself fall back into the pillow from where he'd been leaning on his elbows.
"Listen... I tell him, okay? What was it again?"
"Body, male, no feet. Was found him on the tracks about an hour ago; in the tunnel, not directly at the station. Someone put him there, no blood trail, and he wasn't dragged along by a train." John listened with as much attention as he could muster, then shook his head.
"That's barely a six. You know he never leaves the house or even gets up for less than a seven."
"Don't dismiss it too quickly-"
"Look, I tell him and let him get back to you, okay?"
"All right. Thanks, John. And sorry again."
"Yeah, no bother." As soon as he'd hung up he put the mobile aside, once again sinking back into the mattress.
"You were wrong," a voice beside him murmured, still sleepy, "that's not even a six. A five at most."
"You're just saying that because you don't want to get up." A snort was all he got as an answer. "It's a case, Sherlock. And it does sound interesting." This time, there was no reply, but instead a long arm sneaking around his body.
"It's your fault. You drained me of my energy." For a moment John wondered if his company was serious - not that it would have been surprising - until he felt a smile forming against his skin where Sherlock's cheek had come to rest. John laughed.
"I remember that you were the one who was insatiable." The hum against his chest was immediately answered by heat spreading through his body.
"I still am."
And John had barely the chance to even think of a comeback before hot lips sealed his own in a hungry kiss and a lithe body with eager hands covered every last inch of him.
FIN
