Prompt #6 (from roane72):
Oh, you know what I like. Give me something with bamfy John and I’ll be happy. Anything involving dog tags and a super-impressed Sherlock is a plus. 🙂
And then later she asked for more of No One’s Bitch/Accidental Sex. So I wrote her this in my notebook one day, while I was having sushi for lunch. (The great thing about sushi is that I can use the chopsticks left-handed and write with my right hand. Woot.)
I can’t actually tell whether this one’s finished or not. Thoughts?
***
It takes Lestrade geological ages to arrive, of which Sherlock only needs the first minute to ascertain, to what he’s sure will be a jury’s satisfaction, that their fugitive is indeed the killer.
John is shivering by minute five.
It looks beautiful on him, a fine quivering beneath his skin. It puts Sherlock in mind of a racehorse. A very short racehorse. All right, perhaps one of those tidy little cobs they still keep in the Welsh mountains to pull carts over the unpaved paths, with the sturdy clean limbs and elegant little necks and the thick hair that needs constant brushing to keep it from looking shaggy—
“Sherlock, stop staring and give me your coat.”
John nestled into Sherlock’s coat is such a splendid notion that Sherlock doesn’t know why he didn’t think of it before. He helps John with getting it on. It practically swallows him whole.
The hem comes down past John’s calves, and only his fingertips stick out of the sleeves. The collar stands up to brush against his cheeks. Sherlock wants to tuck the last bits of him down inside and keep him there.
John takes the collar in his fingers and presses it to his nose, eyes sparkling over top of it. “Your coat smells good.”
Sherlock scowls. “You’re a monster.”
His tidy little body nestled into Sherlock’s coat. His tidy little wet all-but-naked body. The lining is laying right against his skin. It’s satin. It must be clinging to him.
Sherlock seizes John by the coat lapels and pulls him close till his grinning monkey face is tipped perfectly up to Sherlock’s. Only inches—
Lestrade’s car pulls up.
Sherlock makes a note to make John snarl from within the depths of his coat more often.