221B Drabbles

by tsukinoblossom

My attempt at writing short stories in the 221-B format 221 words, last word starting with B . I'm really enjoying writing and I think these will encourage me to to do it more often and present an interesting challenge. Note: These stories are not sequential, or even necessarily in the same universe. Unless otherwise specified, each drabble is a unique, complete entity.

109. Biceps

Every inch of his body is aching, and when John lowers himself down onto the sofa it's with an emphatic groan.

"I'm getting too old for this bullshit, Sherlock. Chasing after you at all hours, staying up for days, skipping meals... it's catching up with me." He rolls his neck, releasing a satisfying crack before reaching up to attempt to rub his shoulders.

"Come on then, shirt off." Sherlock's got a bottle of oil in one hand and he's gesturing impatiently at John's torso with the other. He swings one long leg and settles down on the sofa, between John and the cushions.

Shrugging out of his shirt, John can feel Sherlock's warm breath ghosting lightly across the back of his neck. He shifts his weight, attempting to staunch the flow of blood to his groin before things get out of hand.

Sherlock's voice is a quiet murmur next to John's ear. "You need to relax..."

"It's... difficult with you so close..." his voice is ragged, but playful.

Expertly kneading his fingers into the tight flesh of John's shoulders, Sherlock leans forward and whispers. "I work you too hard. Let me do this for you. You can... repay me later."

With a sigh, John relents, leaning back against Sherlock's torso as long, pale fingers dance softly up and down his biceps.