Fic: "Hello?" Sherlock
Title: Hello?
Author: sensei
Fandom: Sherlock
Pairing: Holmes/Watson
Rating: MA
Words: 426
Summary: Sherlock demands to borrow John's cellphone.
Prompts: #21, Phone Fun, citrus_taste (45/50!)
"Come along, John, give me your phone, now," demanded Sherlock in a voice balanced of equal parts authority and whiny child. His long, slender fingers were extended, palm up, as he lay, eyes closed on the sofa.
"No," answered John, and began to send a text message to Sarah.
"Damn it, man," came the reply, "I need it!" His eyes opened a crack and he almost leaned up on an elbow to peer over the armrest. What was wrong with the fool? He wouldn't ask if it weren't important. And so what if it wasn't important? John couldn't know for certain.
John turned his back and continued to thumb his little message. "I'm using it." He couldn't think of a thing to say, and found himself inviting Sarah on a date to the movies that night even though he'd planned on staying in with Sherlock. If this were serious, a real case and not just a bored Sherlock Holmes, he'd have surrendered his property without even being asked. He knew what that fact said about him, about their relationship, and so be it. There was something about the man that made certain forms of surrender both pleasurable and inevitable. But right now? The game that was afoot was nothing but a nicotine-patchless Sherlock in high pestering mode. And John wouldn't let him win.
"Mrs. Hudson!" shouted Sherlock, still not moving from his reclining position. He'd win this yet.
Sherlock's voice was absurdly loud and petulant, making the cry of their landlady's name exactly the same as if he'd yelled "I'm telling Mother." "I think I'll go upstairs to my room," said John lightly, upping the ante as he snapped the phone shut without sending the text after all.
"Oh will you now," oozed Sherlock, making rustling sounds on the sofa but still not rising.
John's curiosity was instantly piqued. "But first, I'm getting something to eat." He stalked toward the kitchen, knowing he hadn't been subtle enough to get away with the gawking he did as he turned the corner and found Sherlock, trousers unfastened, hand working away at that beautiful hard cock of his.
"Something to eat," Sherlock echoed, not pausing in his stroking, voice calm and even.
"Fine," snapped John, advancing and slapping his cell phone in Sherlock's free hand.
Sherlock's eyes opened, flashed. "Good. Now run along upstairs so I can call you on the extension."
John groaned, his cock jumping at the words, then stomped his way up the stairs. Damn the infernal bastard. Why had he ever introduced Sherlock to phonesex?
Author: sensei
Fandom: Sherlock
Pairing: Holmes/Watson
Rating: MA
Words: 426
Summary: Sherlock demands to borrow John's cellphone.
Prompts: #21, Phone Fun, citrus_taste (45/50!)
"Come along, John, give me your phone, now," demanded Sherlock in a voice balanced of equal parts authority and whiny child. His long, slender fingers were extended, palm up, as he lay, eyes closed on the sofa.
"No," answered John, and began to send a text message to Sarah.
"Damn it, man," came the reply, "I need it!" His eyes opened a crack and he almost leaned up on an elbow to peer over the armrest. What was wrong with the fool? He wouldn't ask if it weren't important. And so what if it wasn't important? John couldn't know for certain.
John turned his back and continued to thumb his little message. "I'm using it." He couldn't think of a thing to say, and found himself inviting Sarah on a date to the movies that night even though he'd planned on staying in with Sherlock. If this were serious, a real case and not just a bored Sherlock Holmes, he'd have surrendered his property without even being asked. He knew what that fact said about him, about their relationship, and so be it. There was something about the man that made certain forms of surrender both pleasurable and inevitable. But right now? The game that was afoot was nothing but a nicotine-patchless Sherlock in high pestering mode. And John wouldn't let him win.
"Mrs. Hudson!" shouted Sherlock, still not moving from his reclining position. He'd win this yet.
Sherlock's voice was absurdly loud and petulant, making the cry of their landlady's name exactly the same as if he'd yelled "I'm telling Mother." "I think I'll go upstairs to my room," said John lightly, upping the ante as he snapped the phone shut without sending the text after all.
"Oh will you now," oozed Sherlock, making rustling sounds on the sofa but still not rising.
John's curiosity was instantly piqued. "But first, I'm getting something to eat." He stalked toward the kitchen, knowing he hadn't been subtle enough to get away with the gawking he did as he turned the corner and found Sherlock, trousers unfastened, hand working away at that beautiful hard cock of his.
"Something to eat," Sherlock echoed, not pausing in his stroking, voice calm and even.
"Fine," snapped John, advancing and slapping his cell phone in Sherlock's free hand.
Sherlock's eyes opened, flashed. "Good. Now run along upstairs so I can call you on the extension."
John groaned, his cock jumping at the words, then stomped his way up the stairs. Damn the infernal bastard. Why had he ever introduced Sherlock to phonesex?