Fic: How Sherlock Learned to Love the Dog Tags Chapter 2/4
Title: How Sherlock Learned to Love the Dog Tags Chapter 2/4
Pairing: Sherlock/John, established relationship, hints of Mycroft/Lestrade
Summary: How Sherlock came to have and learned to love John's dog tags.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: about 1600 this chapter
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Author's Notes: Inspired by my gals in our google writers group discussion about the dog tag trope. For those of you who avoid WIPs, this story is complete. I'm just cleaning up the final chapters, so you won't get left hanging.
LINK TO PREVIOUS CHAPTER: http://lucybun.livejournal.com/8277.html
So, he did it. He went shopping. Sort of. Actually, one of Mycroft's people went borrowing. The morning after he'd agreed to the necklaces, he'd phoned Mycroft to make his very great displeasure over this whole nonsense known. He'd even informed him that he'd be the purchaser of said extremely, ridiculously expensive trinket. All of which his brother had taken in with infuriating equanimity.
Mycroft had readily sent out one of his minions to several acceptable proprietors and designers and had the fruits of her labor delivered to his office the next Thursday afternoon. Sherlock blew in sometime around tea with a "Let's get this over with. And I want biscuits. I know you've got fuckloads of biscuits around here somewhere."
At which time someone wheeled in a tea cart complete with a three-tiered stand of plates loaded with pastries and biscuits. Sherlock grabbed a chocolate one off the second plate and snapped, "Where are they? You said everything was ready."
"They're over there," Mycroft answered with a bit of a wave. Sherlock grabbed some more biscuits and wandered over to the long table against the far wall to peruse the rather large selection of necklaces laying there.
Mycroft walked over to stand a bit behind his shoulder. "These are all gold, of course. And the pendants and chains can be purchased separately if you care to mix and match."
Sherlock chewed on his second biscuit and leaned over to pick up a simple but sturdy looking yellow gold chain. It was not ornate, but it looked terribly strong and was obviously well made. "This one. I'll take this one."
"Sherlock, you've barely looked."
"I don't need to look more, Mycroft. This is it. And quit complaining. I had intended to get a massive diamond to match just to pay you back for talking me into this. Lucky for you I decided John wouldn't go for that sort of thing."
Which was just as well. Because, though the necklace looked rather simple, it was in fact extremely artfully crafted by a very much sought after new designer. It cost more than any of the diamonds on display.
Sherlock's mind was made up, and the chain was perfect, really. It reminded him of John - all subtle strength and complex beauty. Mycroft's assistant brought in the jeweler's box that went with it and had the thing packaged and ready to go before Sherlock could finish the cup of tea he'd poured to wash down the biscuits. The whole process had taken less than twenty minutes.
He took a cab back to Baker Street and jogged up to the flat with a bit of a spring in his step. He had the necklace in his pocket so he and John could trade their chains and finally finish this ghastly business.
He walked in to find John sitting in his regular chair, sipping tea and watching the news. He turned as Sherlock strode over to lean down for a kiss.
"You look very chipper. Someone meet an especially gruesome end?"
"Sadly, no. But I got your necklace today," he replied as he patted his coat pocket. "We can exchange them whenever you're ready and be done with it."
John looked a little perturbed at that phrasing, but he mostly just looked surprised. Sherlock made an immediate deduction from his expression and pulled his own face into his smuggest smile.
"You didn't think I'd do it so soon, did you? You thought I'd delay and avoid until you had to back me into a corner. Wrong. As usual. It's bought and boxed. So when do we do this?"
Now John looked distinctly uncomfortable.
"You haven't bought yours yet, have you? Hah! I beat you to it. You were so eager to do this bit, and you haven't even picked something out. For shame, John."
"Oh, shut up. It wasn't a competition, Sherlock. Just give me a few days. I do work, you know? And I don't have a brother with access to every jeweler in town."
Sherlock's smile became less smug and more genuine at the doctor's shrewd deduction, "Very good. You're getting better and better, John. But no more playing around. We're doing this. And soon. Soon as in next Friday. You work better with a deadline, anyway. I should have thought of that," the last bit drifting to John's ears from the hallway as Sherlock wandered off to his room. Which meant he didn't get to see the very real look of worry on John's face.
/************************
Two very boring cases and one mildly interesting one later, found them sitting in a casually romantic, very cozy, rather exclusive little bistro. Mycroft again, but neither man was complaining. Sherlock was relieved to do this in a public setting. It would curb any tendency John might have toward overt displays of affection. John would never be mawkish in the middle of a restaurant. So Sherlock tried to relax during dinner and even ordered the tarte tatin for dessert as this was a special occasion.
He finally lost his patience about half-way through his tarte and pulled out the box he'd been hanging onto for over a week. "All right. Let's do this." He held out the box toward John and said, "I love you very much. Here is a token of such. Let us never speak of it again."
John reached out to take the box and replied, "Oh. You old romantic, you." But he was smiling as he said it, and his smile grew even wider when he actually opened the box. He sat there speechless for a few moments, just shaking his head, until he managed to find his voice and say, "Sherlock, it's...God, it's beautiful. It's perfect. Just perfect. Really. Just...thank you. I mean it. Thank you." He looked up then, and Sherlock could actually see the happiness in his eyes. Well, that was all right then. He truly did love it when John was happy, and not just for selfish reasons. Just because.
So he, the one who had been dreading any public display of emotion, found himself rising to walk over behind John and reach out to clasp the chain around his neck. When he got it closed, he brushed his fingers over the chain and the skin on the back of John's neck and watched as the man shivered and goosebumps rose on his flesh. Sherlock kissed him on the top of the head and walked back to take his seat. John was absolutely beaming. Maybe this hadn't been such a bad idea, after all.
When Sherlock settled back into his seat, John brought out a box similar to the one he'd just received. Sherlock held out his hand, but John paused, a flash of uncertainty dancing across his face. His hand went up to the new chain around his neck as he said, "Mine is nothing like as nice as this. I...I just didn't know what to get you. I couldn't find anything that seemed just right. But I...well, I've wanted you to have these for awhile now and this seemed like a good time. I know you're not a big fan of sentimental-"
Sherlock cut him off by snatching the box out of his hand with an impatient huff and opening it straight away. It wasn't at all what he'd expected. He'd known John didn't have the budget to work with like Mycroft, so he'd been expecting something simple. A silver herringbone, perhaps. What he'd gotten instead was a set of dog tags issued to one Captain John H. Watson, Royal Army Medical Corps.
He pulled them out of the box to examine them more closely. John was still babbling something about "Lots of my mates gave their tags to their wives or partners." and "I'm not trying to stamp my name on you or something." Sherlock ignored him and brushed his fingers over the engraved lettering, over the black rubber dampeners John had put around the edges to keep them from clacking together, over the unusually long chain to which they were attached. When John saw him focus on the chain he added, "It's not the same chain. I had this one made special out of titanium. It's lighter, and you won't have to worry about it breaking, I promise, and it's longer so the tags won't mess up the line of your shirts. No one will be able to see them if you're wearing your jacket. Besides, I thought you might just like the idea of them being different."
John stood up and walked over to him, took the chain out of his hands and looped it over his head. He kissed Sherlock on the nape of his neck above his collar and whispered "I love you, Sherlock Holmes" into the back of his hair. Sherlock tested the weight of the tags in his hand as John sat back down. They sat there, dessert forgotten, smiling in a very satisfied, very companionable silence while Sherlock took care of the cheque with Mycroft's card. But as they were walking arm in arm back to their flat, Sherlock asserted, "I think I'm ready for the vigorous kissing and strenuous sex now."
John glanced up at him with a rather fierce look in his eyes and replied, "Oh God, yes." They made it home in record time.
CONTINUED WITH CHAPTER 3 HERE:
http://lucybun.livejournal.com/8973.html