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j-eryewrites · 2 years ago

Text

Too good to be true

Anonymous Request: Maybe the reader is a university student and everyone around her is trying to woo her but they don't Sherlock is her boyfriend, so one day protective Sherlock appears and, shows them she's his.

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Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Jealous Sherlock, Major fluff, mentions of sex, Sherlock is in love with you. No use of y/n.

“Guys, I swear on my life,” you chuckled as your finger crossed over your heart, “I’m taken.”

Your friends rolled their eyes at your declaration.

“What?”

“Babes,” Lucy said. “You keep telling us about this guy, yet….” She looked around the bar that your friend group was drinking at. “I don’t see him.”

“He’s just…” You began.

“Married to his work. We know.” Miri said. She took a big swallow of her martini. “Well, I’m off to get another round.”

She quickly excused herself from the table and walked over to the bar.

You sighed. It wasn’t your’s or Sherlock’s fault that there was a new serial killer in town. This one seemed to evade your boyfriend’s and John’s attempts of catching him at every turn. You your friends. knew what stakes his job had, including late nights and missed opportunities to introduce him to

Lucy called your name. “You don’t have to keep lying just because all of us are taken. I promise, as your friends, we won’t judge you.”

To this, you rolled your eyes. When were your friends going to understand you were taken?

“Plus,” Lucy continued. “I’ve heard that Garreth has an eye for you.”

You snickered. “Garreth, the heartthrob of our year. I call bullshit.”

Lucy nudged you on the shoulder. “Is it bullshit that he’s been staring at you this entire time we’ve been here?” Lucy’s grey eyes peered behind your shoulder.

Quickly, you turned around and saw him: Garreth. His bright green eyes lit up the moment you saw him. You had to admit, he was attractive. He was tall, with curly red hair, and freckles all over his face. Not to mention, he was quite smart in all of his subjects. He flashed you a smile, one which you returned. It would have been rude not to, you thought.

“See!” Lucy exclaimed.

“See what?” Miri asked. Her hands were full as she juggled the new round of drinks.

“Garreth’s been checking out, our friend here,” Lucy explained.

“Again? He does that all the time. I swear to god that the man is in love with you,” Miri said in a teasing manner.

“Guys,” You said sternly. “I’m taken which means I have eyes for only one person.”

“Sure,” Lucy and Miri responded at the same time.

You took a shot. The fiery liquid traveled down your throat and spread warmth to your body.

“Look,” Miri said. She herself took a shot of alcohol. “If we haven’t met this…”

“Genius, tall, beautiful man of a boyfriend,” Lucy finished.

“Yeah that. If we haven’t met him by the end of the month. I’m setting you up on a date with Garreth,” Miri said sternly.

You groaned. Your finger pinched the bridge of your nose tightly. This was going to be a long night.

_________

It was a quarter after midnight when you walked into the doors of 221B. A bright light shone from on top of the stairs. The warm golden light could only mean one thing: Sherlock was awake.

You smiled softly at the thought of your boyfriend, as your feet sluggish in movement carried you up the stairs. Sherlock appeared in the doorway watching your climb. It was as if he knew you were coming from a block away. He probably did. Sherlock had a way with those types of things.

The first thing you did was envelope your boyfriend in a warm embrace. Something he gladly returned. The comfort you felt in his arms was unmatched: his heart beating underneath your ears as you rested your head against his chest, his soft hands cradling your lower back and hips pulling you taut to him, and how his head dipped to kiss the crown of your head. If you died right now, you were sure that heaven would be in Sherlock’s arms.

The two of you stood at the top of the stairs holding each other. Your bodies swayed back and forth in a slow dance. It had been a rough day, it seemed, for the both of you.

“Any luck with the case?” You inquired, pulling away from the hug.

Sherlock shook his head. “Not as much as I would have liked. We’ve narrowed down the possible location of the next murder, but that’s all. He seems to have avoided our every plot to catch him.”

“You’ll solve the case and catch him. I believe in you,” you comforted.

Sherlock smiled and whispered your name. “If only the world revolved around your belief in me, I’d have solved the case by now.”

Then Sherlock brought his lips to yours in a gentle manner. He was savoring the kiss. It was one of the only things he cherished. Your lips could bring him out of the grey haze he often found his mind in. He loved the feeling of you flushed against him. He loved you.

“Now,” he said with a hand on your lower back leading you into his flat, “mind telling me what’s on your mind.”

You sighed and shook your head. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing if it’s bothering you, darling.”

An electric wave shot down your spine. Even after months together, you still weren’t used to that nickname. The things you would do to have him whispering it in your ear like a prayer.

“You were supposed to meet my friends tonight, Sherlock.” You said.

“I know, but Lestrade found another body and…”

“The case is important and I understand, it’s just my friends don’t believe me.”

“Believe you?” Sherlock asked. His brow raised.

“They don’t think you’re…” Your voice grew quiet. “...real. They think I’m making you up.”

Sherlock reached out and laid his hands on your forearms, running them up and down in a comforting manner. He stepped closer. His piercing blue eyes are on you. You had his full attention.

“They gave me a vendetta. If they haven’t met you by the end of the month, they're going to set me up with Garreth.”

Sherlock’s jaw clenched. “Garreth? Who’s…”

You cut him off before he could finish. “Just a guy in my year. Apparently, he’s in love with me or something.” Your eyes lowered as you muttered those last words.

Sherlock’s hands stopped tracing your arms. You could hear Sherlock’s entire body grow tense and his breath becomes slow and calculated.

“They just need to meet me?”

You nodded, too embarrassed to say anything.

“I’ll meet your friends. Now tell me about Garreth, it seems I need to have a word with him.” Sherlock began.

You chuckled and pulled him down for a kiss to silence him.

Sherlock’s mind was made up as you kissed him. He’d let Garreth know you were his. He’d make your friends into believers. If there was any truth in this corrupted world, it would be that Sherlock loved you and that he was yours and you were his.

________

“Next class, I would have liked you all to have read chapters sixteen and seventeen,” your professor announced to the class. “These chapters are crucial for the discussion, so please come prepared. Class dismissed.”

It was as if a wave of vitality drowned the class. Students, who were moments before drooling onto the desks and their eyes closed, now shot to life. They stuffed their computers and textbooks into their backpacks.

As you gathered your things at your desk, you noticed a shadow fall over your figure. You peered up to glance at the person. It was Sherlock.

You looked around confused. “Why are you…”

“Thought I’d come to visit my girlfriend and take her out to lunch. Seemed to have a break from the case for a moment,” Sherlock replied. The corner of his eyes crinkled as a grin flashed across his face.

You couldn’t help but match his smile. It really was contagious. “Perfect. I know just the place to eat,” you said. “And it just so happens my friends are working there.”

There was a sparkle in Sherlock’s eye. “Perfect indeed.” He extended his elbow out to you. You linked your arm with his and led him to the cafe for lunch.

________

“Miri, the girl’s got three more days in the month,” Lucy said. “You can’t set her up on a date with Garreth.”

“Oh, and how much do you want to bet that her boyfriend will magically turn up in those three days,” Miri shot back. Lucy sighed in defeat. “That’s what I thought…I just worry about her. She needs to go and find her person. I care about her too much. Plus, Garreth is a big sweetheart and everything she’d ever want in a man.”

“I care about her to Miri, but…”

A bell rang from above the door. The sight left both Miri and Lucy’s eyes to bulge out of their heads. The two of them had to do a double take. Once they certified with their brains that what was in front of them was real, they couldn’t help but squeal.

There stood their best friend, you. What the real sight was the man linked to your arm. They ran through the description you had given them of the mysterious man.

He was tall, check.

He had a head of gorgeous dark curls, check.

Cheekbones that could cut, check.

Entrancing ocean blue eyes, check.

A smile that puts the greatest celebrities to shame, check.

A gentleman, check,

Absolutely and irrevocably in love with you, check, check, CHECK.

“It’s him!” Lucy and Miri whispered to each other.

“Hi, Luc and Miri,” you chirped. You lifted a hand and pointed to Sherlock. “This is my boyfriend, Sherlock.” The two women eyed you and Sherlock. They were doing a horrible job of hiding their excitement. “Sherlock, these are my best friends, Lucy and Miri.”

Immediately the two stuck out their hands to shake Sherlock’s.

“Damn, you have nice hands. Nice fingers as well,” Miri blurted. She sent you a wink to which your face flushed with embarrassment.

Sherlock chuckled unsure of what to say. “Nice to finally meet you two.” He flashed your friends an awkward grin. They couldn’t help but ogle at Sherlock.

You cleared your throat. “Can we order, or are you just going to stand there and stare at my boyfriend,” you teased.

Now it was your friend’s turn to be embarrassed.

“Right,” Lucy cried. “What can I get you two?”

The two of your ordered lunch and then found an open seat in the cafe. Sherlock sat with his back facing your friends, which allowed you the full view of their gawking. Miri kept winking and making sexual references with her fingers. Lucy just flashed you a thumbs-up before preparing your order.

“Sorry about my friends,” You whispered to Sherlock. The evidence on your cheeks let Sherlock know just how embarrassed you were.

“It’s alright,” he said in an attempt to soothe your embarrassment.

Again the bell above the door rang long and clear. In stepped Garreth. He had his backpack swung over his shoulder and a witty smile adorning his face.

“Afternoon, ladies!” He greeted Lucy and Miri.

“Hey there Garreth,” Miri replied as she winked at him.

Sherlock’s ears perked up. He turned to look at you. “Garreth?”

You looked over to the man who just entered the cafe and then back at Sherlock. Your boyfriend had a look on his face. A wave of butterflies was released into your stomach. Sherlock raised his brow up and had a smirk on his face.

As Garreth noticed your presence and uttered your name, Sherlock grabbed onto the collar of your shirt and yanked you to him. His lips met yours in a possessive kiss. It was strong and secure and much brasher than you were used to receiving from Sherlock in public. The man tended to stick to more subtle ways of showing others that you were his: a hand around your waist, his figure standing not far from yours, a glare to anyone who dare look your way as if their eyes didn’t deserve to see you in all your glory.

As Sherlock slipped his tongue into your mouth, dancing alongside yours, Lucy and Miri gasped. You could just imagine the look on their faces. You did tell them he was a good kisser after all and now they just got front-row seats to the show.

You had to pull back from Sherlock. Your breath was heavy as your lungs remembered what it was like to breathe. From the looks of it, Sherlock would have kept kissing you until he passed out and you’d let him. You let out a giggle seeing your friend’s amazed faces. Sherlock pecked your cheek lightly as a small reminder.

“Someone’s jealous…,” You giggled.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I’m just letting the world know what’s mine,” he said in a low voice only you could hear.

“Well, from what I could tell, you’ve only shown three people. If you want to show the whole world, you’ve got a lot of work to do,” you winked.

Sherlock smiled. “It’s a good thing I like kissing you among other things.” There was a suggestive look in his eyes.

You gasped slightly and hit him on the shoulder. “My friends are right behind you Sherlock.”

“I know.”

You rolled your eyes as Sherlock turned around and asked your friends to take lunch to go. He explained that he needed you for the afternoon. Lucy and Miri played along and quickly finished your order. They shoved in your hands and pushed you out the door whispering words of playful encouragement.

“You scored the lottery,” Lucy whispered to you.

You smiled and looked at Sherlock. You really did. Sherlock was everything you could ask for and more.

Once again, the two of you linked your arms together and scurried back to Baker Street. Your takeout left on the counter was forgotten. Unlike that afternoon, when Sherlock showed the world again and again that he was yours and you were his.

_____

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strawberrywinter4 · 10 months ago

Note

Fic Request:

John wanting to be in a relationship (no he's not gay (he might be gay for one hat wearing genius maybe~)) attends a speed dating event in which Sherlock insists on sitting next to him for so he doesn't end up with 'another terribly boring woman'.

And then Sherlock proceeds to sassily analyze each one because let's be honest he wants to be John's date.

Thank you so much for the prompt! I loved writing this story, it was so much fun <3

Pick and Choose

Fandom: Sherlock (TV)

Tags: Pining John, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Getting Together, Speed Dating, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Jealous Sherlock Holmes, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Make Out Sessions, Kissing, Neck Kissing, Humor, Fluff, Some Angst, Teacups break, Swearing

Rating: Mature

Read here on ao3.

*•*•*•*•

John wants to dig himself a hole and never come out.

Speed dating was never a strategy he thought he would have to resort to, but here he is. The venue is nice, held in one of the hotels on the high end of town, though the participation payment was surprisingly cheap, why not? The food is decent and the interior is pleasing to look at, with white curtains, windows that showcase the streets of London, round tables scattered across the spacious room, and a sparkling chandelier to top off the scenery.

There are a lot more people attending than John thought. Beautiful women are seen from across the room and now that he thinks about it, maybe this wasn’t a bad idea after all. He put on his best button-up shirt, one that matches his eyes (he thinks, at least), and though his hair didn’t wish to cooperate today, he still managed to comb it decently.

“You know you look quite ridiculous staring at the various sweets in front of you. I suggest if you’d like something, simply take it.”

The familiar baritone voice shatters John’s thoughts.

Slowly, he turns to see Sherlock looking at him impassively. John blinks in disbelief.

“What the hell are you doing here?” John demands.

“I don’t understand how you could attend such an event,” Sherlock says, dismissing John’s question. “Why do this when you could be on the case I offered?”

“I-”

“You told me you were visiting your sister. Next time don’t make a lie up on the spot, it was painfully obvious.”

“Sherlock-”

“I solved the case if you were wondering,” Sherlock says. “It was simple, too simple. I’ll have to ask Lestrade for a better one. Hardly a 5.”

“Sherlock,” John interrupts. “I’m not going to ask again. Why are you here?”

“To save you from disaster,” Sherlock tells him. “I knew you were desperate, John, but this is unnecessary.”

“Well, you scare off all my other ones,” John retorts, releasing a strenuous sigh.

“If you’re really set on getting a pathetic girlfriend, fine. But I’ll have to decide if she’s adequate.”

John stares in shock. “No… no. Why do you have to decide?”

“No offense, John, but you’re not very good at choosing your partners. They always get in the way of the Work.”

“Or maybe the Work gets in the way of them,” John offers with gritted teeth.

“Unlikely,” Sherlock murmurs, observing the venue. A buzzer sounds, a cue for everyone to get settled in their seats. “You’ll hardly know I’m here,” Sherlock promises.

John highly doubts that.

John takes a seat at a table in the back, his confidence in this situation decreasing by the second. Sherlock grabs a discarded chair and places it close to John, taking a seat. John looks at Sherlock briefly, watching the detective take off his scarf, revealing his long neck that looks quite delectable, if John’s being honest-

But of course, that’s a normal reaction. Sherlock is an attractive person and John will notice that from time to time. That doesn’t make him interested in Sherlock, that just means-

“John?” a woman’s voice asks.

John realizes he’s been staring at Sherlock for a long period of time. He feels his cheeks heat and turns to the pretty woman, who has a curious smile on her lips.

“Hi,” John greets. “How did you- oh… right. Name tag. Hah.”

“Obviously,” Sherlock mumbles and John steps on his foot for his troubles. Sherlock scowls, kicking John’s foot back in retaliation. John takes a sip of his drink to calm himself.

“Um… is this like a threesome thing?” the woman asks as she takes a seat, eyeing the two men with slight interest.

John almost chokes on his drink. “Uh- no. No, sorry. This- don’t mind him. He’s my…”

“No one in particular,” Sherlock chimes in.

“Yes. That.”

“Oh,” the woman says, nodding. “Well, I’m-”

“Charlotte,” John says, his chin jutting to her nametag with a smile. “Beautiful name.”

Charlotte blushes, giggling as she waves a hand at John bashfully. John can practically feel Sherlock roll his eyes.

“So, Charlotte, what do you do?” John asks.

“Accounting,” she responds, twirling a piece of her raven hair. “Summarizing financial transactions and all that.”

“She has two cats,” Sherlock murmurs, his voice low enough so that she’s unable to hear him.

“I quite like it,” Charlotte continues. “It’s not what I’d actually like to do, but it’s enough.”

“Protective father,” Sherlock analyzes. “He’d be a nuisance. He contacts her at least four times a day.”

“What I’d really like to do is be a flight attendant so I can get out of this fucking city and explore the world,” she says, frustration slipping into her voice. “I hate it here, actually.”

“Oh, uh- I’m sorry to hear that,” John sympathizes, shifting in his seat.

“Nicely dressed, cleaned jewelry, she’s being provided great sums of money,” Sherlock says.

“Sorry, did you say something?” Charlotte asks, eyes going to Sherlock.

Sherlock gives his signature fake smile. “Not at all.”

The buzzer goes off and Charlotte stands, huffing a breath of relief. “Anyway, it was nice to meet you, George!” she says as she rushes away.

John stares, watching her go. What just happened?

“And extremely disorganized,” Sherlock concludes.

“God, I don’t need you spitting your deductions in my ear every second,” John scolds.

“I’m assisting,” Sherlock retorts. “Quite wonderfully, if you must know.”

Another woman with blonde locks takes a seat across John. John’s about to say something before the woman holds up her hand, gesturing for him to shush.

John blinks in bewilderment, but stays silent, looking around uncomfortably.

“Her sister forced her to attend,” Sherlock murmurs. “She has no interest in you or in any men for that matter.”

John wants to ignore Sherlock, but his curiosity is piqued. “Who’s she texting, then?” John whispers.

“A coworker. She’s dedicated to her work, seeing as she has an outline of a second device in her pocket. The phone which she’s messaging on is her work device while the phone in her pocket is her personal device.” Sherlock makes a noise of disagreement. “Quite troublesome.”

The woman puts her hand down and finally looks at John, not bothering to show interest.

“Uh- hello,” John tries.

“My name is Gabriella and your name is John, hence the name tag.” She sighs irritably. “I’m sure you’re a nice man, but in all honesty, you’re not my type. Do you know when this whole thing ends?”

“Oh, I-”

“Do you?” Gabriella asks, eyes landing on Sherlock.

“An hour,” Sherlock responds.

“God, this is torture.”

“If you really didn’t wish to come, you should have just denied your sister’s pleas,” Sherlock says absentmindedly.

John shuts his eyes tight, knowing Sherlock’s forwardness never ends well. Gabriella’s jaw drops, her eyes flaring in anger.

“I beg your pardon?” she asks.

“Your sister is persistent, but her excessive guilt-tripping seems to control every aspect of your life.” Sherlock furrows his brows, his focus pointing toward the tablecloth. “My Lord, this is craft fabric. Practically plastic! How could they initiate such a dull detail when they hold this event in a sumptuous setting?”

“This is ill-mannered!” Gabriella argues.

“Quite,” Sherlock agrees. “If they can afford this hotel, they can certainly afford better fabric.”

“No, you’re assumptions are ill-mannered,” Gabriella clarifies. She huffs, scooting her chair out aggressively before stomping away.

John sighs, slumping in his chair as his hand rubs over his face.

“I never assume,” Sherlock says matter-of-factly.

“She couldn’t even sit with me for ten minutes,” John murmurs.

“It’s hardly your fault, John. She simply doesn’t know how to prioritize her life.”

The buzzer goes off again. Just as John begins to lose hope, a woman with brunette hair and freckles surrounding her nose sits across John. She smiles kindly, shaking John’s hand.

“Hello,” she greets.

“Hi, um…” John’s eyes study her name tag. “Amelia.”

“John,” she says, taking her hand back. She chuckles. “I’m going to be honest, I’m not very good at this sort of stuff.”

“Oh, I completely understand,” John says, laughing with her.

Amelia’s eyes land on Sherlock, an unsure expression settling on her face. John waves him off, which Sherlock glares at.

“Don’t mind him. Um- so, Amelia, what do you do?”

“I’m a veterinarian,” she tells him.

John nods. “That’s quite the job.”

“Oh, yes, but… I enjoy it so much,” she says, giving a genuine smile.

“I admire a person who’s dedicated to their work,” John says, a grin playing his lips.

John would be lying if he said his mind didn’t drift to Sherlock.

No. No. Sherlock is out of the question.

“And you?” Amelia asks.

“Uh- well, I was in the army. Now I work at a clinic,” John explains. "I'm a doctor."

She smiles. “How noble. Now that is very admiring.”

John is about to respond before Sherlock cuts in, “Recently separated.”

The air turns quiet. Amelia’s eyes flutter as if her mind is breaking a haze. “Sorry, what?” she questions.

“No. Uh- don’t mind him,” John tries, but Sherlock is having none of it.

“You still contact your ex-husband, obviously not over him. You came to this event to get your mind off him, meet someone new to discard the pain, but that won’t work.” Sherlock releases a long breath, showcasing his boredom. “If you’re still so attached to him, it’s probably best to stay out of another relationship. Bringing your secondary relationship problems into another relationship can cause an immense amount of conflict.”

Amelia stares at Sherlock, her pain evident. She stands and leaves without a word.

John swallows, trying to process what just occurred.

“You’re welcome,” Sherlock says. “I saved you from months of unnecessary complications.”

John’s knee bounces, agitated. John releases a humorless laugh. “Sherlock, that was extremely unkind.”

Sherlock furrows his brows. “She was still emotionally attached to her ex husband. I informed you of-”

“I don’t need your help!” John snaps, turning to Sherlock. “I don’t know why you’re being so bloody invasive in my romantic affairs, but I’m fucking sick of it, Sherlock. Go bother someone else for a change, hm? Go ruin someone else’s evenings, for Christ’s sake..”

With that, John stands and strides out of the hotel, not bothering to look back at the detective. As the cool London air hits John’s face, he hails a cabbie, getting into the vehicle. He stares out the window, trying not to think of the devastating expression on Sherlock’s face.

—

221B is quiet.

John has been up in his room for the past few hours, the events of this afternoon swirling through his head.

He’s changed out of his formal clothing, settling for a simple t-shirt and pajama bottoms. He lays in bed, staring up at the bland ceiling. Running a hand through his hair, he lets out a sigh, his thoughts coming back in full circle.

He shouldn’t have yelled at Sherlock like that. John knows Sherlock was just trying to help (though he has an odd way of showing it).

It’s endearing, really, how Sherlock’s mind works. John has always found it fascinating.

The way Sherlock can look at something and acquire a fact of a thought, not only an assumption. The way he gets excited by the strangest and most perplexing things. The way most describe him as heartless, but he sympathizes with people in his own, unique way that’s difficult to understand but incredibly captivating to watch.

The way he just sees things differently… that’s what piqued John’s interest from the start.

The way his eyes light up when he’s analyzing a situation thoroughly, picking apart every aspect with precision. The way he has highs of anticipation for a case, but afterward he takes long breaks for himself, picking a specific place to sleep for hours.

John is utterly in love.

John suspected the realization would be surprising, that it would come in heavy waves, but it comes to him in a smooth sailing stream. Of course he’s in love with Sherlock Holmes. He’s known it for the longest time. It was only denial that was blocking the thought from his mind, the constant “I’m not gay” accusations only a way to escape reality.

But no. John knows it’s time to face the reality, even if it is, for some reason, difficult. He’s in love with Sherlock Holmes.

More like, he’s obsessed with the man. Fascination doesn’t even begin to describe the appeal he has for Sherlock.

Just then, a knock sounds at the door.

John stands, his knees slightly shaky from lying down for so long. Cracking his neck, he walks to the door. He takes a deep breath and opens the door, revealing Sherlock with a cup of tea in his hands.

Sherlock looks unsure, almost like a kicked puppy.

Guilt builds up in John’s chest for handling the situation so harshly.

Sherlock clears his throat, holding up the cup. “Tea,” he says. “I um- I made you tea.”

John stares at him, his heart swelling.

“I apologize,” Sherlock whispers, looking away. “I was inconsiderate. I- I should have left you alone with your romantic affairs. You can… you can date whoever you’d like. Of course you can. I um- I suppose I… I just don’t want you interacting romantically with anyone who will be wasting your time.” Sherlock pauses, then shakes his head. “That sounds inconsiderate as well. What I meant was that most people are idiotic and they don’t deserve you…” Sherlock’s hands clench around the teacup. “No. Wait. That sounds… that sounds… that’s not what I meant. What I-”

“Sherlock.”

Sherlock stops talking, eyes flickering up to John. Gently, John cups Sherlock’s face as he steps closer. The detective’s cheeks flare considerably. John pauses, searching Sherlock’s eyes for any protest.

There’s none.

John kisses him.

Everything is still. It’s silent besides the occasional sound of a vehicle passing by Baker Street in the dark of the night.

The kiss is tender, both of the men staying still. John pulls back, opening his eyes slowly. Sherlock seems stunned.

John clears his throat, stepping back. “Fuck. Sorry, I- I thought…” He laughs awkwardly. “I’m so sorry, Sherlock, I-”

John is interrupted by glass shattering on the floor. The next thing John knows, he’s practically getting pounced on by a six-foot detective.

Sherlock holds John’s face and presses his lips against his desperately, earnestly. Once John gains back his cognitive function, he kisses Sherlock back, holding his waist tightly. John doesn’t know how they ended up at the end of the room, but his knees hit the edge of the bed and he falls back onto the sheets with a grunt. Sherlock follows him, climbing atop him and straddling him. John makes a noise of encouragement, his hang gliding up to tangle through Sherlock’s curls.

Sherlock’s lips move against John’s eagerly, kissing him into oblivion. John chuckles and pulls back slightly so that he can catch his breath—disappointment forms on Sherlock’s features.

“Did I- am I doing it wrong?” Sherlock asks.

“What? No. No, of course not,” John reassures. “Just…” John nudges his nose against Sherlock’s. “Slowly,” he whispers in instruction.

John brings Sherlock’s head down, capturing the detective’s lips. John sets a slower pace this time, allowing himself to get lost in the sensation.

Sherlock’s lips are plump, a wonder to taste. Sherlock groans, following John’s movements as he glides his thumbs across the doctor’s jaw adoringly. John shivers at the movement.

Yeah. He’ll never get tired of kissing Sherlock.

John sucks in a breath, giving Sherlock’s lips several pecks before leaning back. Sherlock makes a noise of complaint. John grins, squeezing the detective’s waist.

“I know. I know, love,” he whispers against his lips. “Just two things.”

“Make it quick,” Sherlock demands, his lips already trailing down John’s jaw.

John huffs a laugh, his mind already getting distracted by the sensation of Sherlock’s eager kisses against his skin. “Well, you’re cleaning up the broken glass.”

“And making you another cup of tea,” Sherlock says, sucking a particular spot on John’s neck. “Obviously.”

“Mhm. Y-Yep. Obviously. And-”

“And?”

“And…” John cups Sherlock’s face and makes the detective look at him. “And I’m sorry for being such a dick to you. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“Don’t, John. I deserved-”

“Stop,” John interjects softly. “You never deserve that, Sherlock. Never.” John’s thumb soothes Sherlock’s cheekbone. “You’re brilliant. Everything about you is brilliant. My evenings are never ruined because of you. Nothing is ruined because of you. You’ve made my life better and I need you. I’m sorry I didn’t realize that before.”

Sherlock stares at him, his breath shallow. “So you… you want me?”

John laughs. “I thought us snogging made that clear?”

Sherlock grins. “I’m not sure I’m fully convinced.”

“Mm. Well, then.” In a swift movement, John flips their positions, Sherlock now on his back and John straddling him. Sherlock inhales a shaky breath, his eyes full of anticipation. John leans down, his breath hot against Sherlock’s lips. “I guess I’ll have to convince you in full.”

Sherlock’s arms wrap around John’s neck, his long fingers running through John’s hair. “Please do.”

*•*•*•*•

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