SHVoLB 9
(A/N: Hey you guys! So sorry bout the long wait and I hope this isn't crap!)
Watson could feel himself nodding off to the sweet melody of the song Holmes was currently inventing as he went along. It was quite rare to hear something so beautiful being played by Holmes, Watson being accustomed to the incessant plucking and nonsensical drag of the bow across the strings that could drive a less patient man insane.
But this was nice. This sounded happy and there was a gentle smile on Sherlock's face as he finished. He opened his eyes to Watson's grinning face and outstretched arms, beckoning him to come to bed. Holmes gave a somewhat bashful chuckle and set down his violin before climbing into bed and into Watson's waiting arms.
"You really like it then?" John asked once Holmes was snuggly nestled in his embrace.
"I adore it," he replied, briefly inhaling the sent of Watson's neck, "but it's not the greatest gift I've received tonight." He looked pointedly up at the doctor who just laughed and pushed his fingers through his partner's hair.
"You've become very sentimental all of a sudden."
"I know," Holmes said with some amount of distaste, "Look what you've done to me!"
They laid together in comfortable silence for a moment before, "Holmes…do you think we'll ever get back to our time?"
"Hmm…yes I believe I do."
"And why is that?"
"Well, whenever we actually come across some evidence of Blackwood, we should be able to corner him just as easily as last time and extract the secret of the portal before we kill him."
"Kill him?"
"OR take him into custody, which ever you'd prefer, my dear Watson."
"I might also bring up that we didn't so easily corner him as you say we did. He did, after all, come back from the grave or so to speak."
"Technicalities."
Watson snorted, "Whatever you say, Holmes, whatever you say."
"Precisely."
Quiet fell over them once more and Watson found himself in a rapt observation of Holmes's profile bathed in moonlight. His eyes followed the outline of his tousled hair and long lashes, down over his nose and to his lips…
"Watson, don't you think I can feel you staring at me?"
He jolted, having thought he was asleep. "Well stop faking sleep if you don't want to be stared at!"
"I didn't say that I minded, Watson, I was simply wondering why you prefer to stare at my lips instead of kiss them."
"Well if that's what you wanted, you only had to ask. I would be more than glad to oblige."
Holmes was working up a retort when Watson leaned down and captured his lips, causing his brain to go quite fuzzy and incoherent. The smaller man timidly parted his lips, allowing Watson into a deeper kiss. He had decided before to let Watson take the lead in the matter of kissing until he had gained more personal experience himself. Though of course, it wasn't much of a sacrifice.
When Watson pulled back, he was pleased to see Holmes's flushed face and hazy eyes, his mouth parted in a sort of awe; for once, he was speechless.
"Well goodnight then," he said cheerily as laid back down, pulling the covers around him. It was with no small amount of pride that he witnessed the look of utter surprise and desperation on the detective's face before he closed his eyes.
"W-Watson, what? …You can't just…" he gave an angry huff at being ignored and finally turned the other way, balling himself up in a childish display of spite.
John barely managed to contain his mirth, enjoying his moment of dominance and hoping it would not be his last.
Holmes tossed the newspaper back onto the breakfast table with a petulant noise of frustration.
"Anything wrong, Holmes?" his partner asked over the rim of his coffee mug.
"Blackwood might as well have disappeared! There is absolutely no news of anything that could possibly correlate with himself or his plans," he kneaded his temples fiercely, a look of intense consternation on his face.
"I'm sure we'll hit onto something sooner or later, old boy. In the meantime, I wouldn't worry until virgins or members of parliament start turning up missing."
Holmes still seemed insecure about the whole thing and Watson could practically feel his restlessness in the drumming of his fingers on the table.
"How about we go for a walk?" Watson suggested for probably the millionth time in the history of their relationship.
What he did not expect though, was to see Holmes's eyes suddenly widen with interest and a slight bit of mischief. He decided not to question his sudden acquiescence. He would take mischievous Holmes over depressed Holmes any day.
"You know, Watson, I think a walk is exactly what I need."
London was already moving with throngs of people, bustling their way to work. Holmes breathed deep of the air which still held such familiarity, even hundreds of years later. No matter how much he despised the humdrum of everyday life, he couldn't help but love his city in all its foggy glory.
Watson looked equally pensive as he strolled along beside him, cane tapping well-known patterns on the sidewalk. But for all his literal presence, he still seemed distant and Holmes was bound and determined to change that. It was why he had agreed to come along after all.
John gave a start when he felt the other man's hand slide into his own and hold on firmly.
"Holmes!" he scolded, looking affronted, and tried to yank his hand back.
Sherlock, however, refused to relent, "Calm down, Watson, nobody's going to arrest us. No one is even going to stare!"
The doctor's eyes still darted to and fro as if he were about to be caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar, but he didn't try to move. Clearly pleased, Holmes then took it a step further by lacing his fingers through Watson's.
The taller man did nothing but lower his head a bit in a vain attempt to conceal the becoming pinkness in his cheeks. The truth was, he himself, didn't mind a bit. Actually, it felt quite wondrous and fulfilling to hold Holmes's slender hand in his own; but the publicity of the stunt was making him as nervous as a school boy.
"Watson, your palm is sweating," smirked Holmes.
"Well perhaps your hands are too warm!"
"No, I seem to recall you saying they were too cold."
"When did I say that?"
"Nearly every time our hands come into contact…oh and also last night."
"L-last night?" Watson nearly choked.
"In your sleep. I believe it was something along the lines of, 'Ahh! Holmes, your fingers are so cold!'"
Watson was nearly twitching with mortification as the dream came flooding back to him in glorious snippets. The last thing he knew, he was thinking about how much he enjoyed dominance and then there was…well…that.
"You should really tell me about it some time," Holmes continued with an air of upmost arrogance, "It sounded like quite a doozey."
(A/N: And that's about it for now XD Lol sorry again for the wait and please review!)