Gift of Fic #3
To hell with my original schedule!
Title: Those Four Little Words
Fandom: Sherlock
Pairing/Characters: Sherlock/John, Sally, Lestrade
Rating: PG (mild language, one dead body, Sherlock being an arse)
Word Count: 1163
Summary/Prompt: Anything with bickering that results in making out. Later amended: John and Sally form a tentative alliance. Sherlock is annoyed.
A/N: Much less making-out and more bickering...
A murder in Hyde Park. The police cordoned off only several metres from the body as the crime scene. Sherlock knew that the scene of the crime extended well beyond those boundaries. He'd have the entire park preserved if he could, but he already knew that Lestrade would vehemently argue against it. He turned to John, instead, to complain. But John was not where he was supposed to be: at Sherlock's side.
He scanned the area and found John over by the police tape talking to Sergeant Donovan. Normally, John would have been wearing that awkward, polite smile when he's too nice to just tell someone to "Shut the hell up." Sherlock took pride and pleasure in being the only person in their immediate acquaintance that can make John say "Shut the hell up!" quite often. But the smile John was giving now was the one that meant he was actually enjoying the conversation!
"John!" He shouted sharply. "Come here, I need you!"
John then smiled apologetically to Sally and jogged over to Sherlock. "What can I do?"
"Care to examine the body?"
John glanced down at the dead man clad in a jogger's outfit, but Sherlock knew was not a jogger. "Okay, sure." He crouched down in the frost-covered grass.
Sherlock crouched next to him. "What extra information did Sgt. Donovan provide?"
"What? Oh, uhm, actually we were just chatting."
"What could Sally Donovan have possibly worth saying to you?"
John stopped probing around the edge of the head wound (not the cause of death) and looked up at Sherlock, irritated. "As long as neither of us bring up each other's personal...relationships, Sgt. Donovan is a perfectly decent person."
Sherlock scoffed.
"Look, I'm just trying to make an effort. I don't like working in a hostile environment."
"This coming from a man who invaded Afghanistan, shoots murderers, and tackles assassins!"
"Scotland Yard is not the enemy, Sherlock."
"Nor are they your war buddies."
John's jaw clenched and he glared at Sherlock. Here it comes, Sherlock thought, happily, those four little words John only ever says to me.
John opened his mouth, but Lestrade, the bumbler, chose that moment to come over and say, "What do you have for me?"
Sherlock scowled. He left out important information simply out of spite.
A week after solving the case, John had written it up in his blog and titled it, "The Jogger in the Park."
"He was not a jogger, that was the point!"
"Exactly."
"Wha- I-" He tugged on his curls. "That's the least amount of sense you have ever made, and that's with some very strong competition."
John was still seated at his laptop in the sitting room while Sherlock was in the kitchen dissecting a frog. Suddenly, John started laughing. "Yes, John, the overweight, Japanese cat is quite fond of boxes. You should be over it by now."
"It's not that, it's an e-mail from Sally."
Since when did John start using Sgt Donovan's given name? Plus, "Why is Sally e-mailing you?"
"It's just a comedy e-mail, something she's probably forwarded it to her entire contact list."
"Why are you on her contact list? I'm not on her contact list."
"Because I'm not a prat."
"No, because you have exchanged e-mail addresses."
"Yes."
"Why!?"
"Sherlock."
"Yes?"
"Shut the hell up," John said, turning back to his computer.
Sherlock returned to the kitchen, smiling.
The sort of thing to make Sherlock stop smiling was what Donovan was doing the next time he was called in to a scene. It wasn't just talking.... there was smiling, laughing, and occasional touching. Comedy e-mails were one thing, but a line had to be drawn.
He waited until John was off in one corner of the of the apartment, taking notes from Lestrade. Sherlock found Sally in the hall having a low, but clearly heated argument with Anderson. When they saw him, they silenced and Anderson stomped off down the stairs.
"Troubles in paradise?" he asked with a sinister smile.
"None of your business, freak."
"Oh, I think it is my business since you seem keen on an upgrade."
"What-"
"From idiot adulterer to say a, maybe, I don't know, doctor?" He dropped the cheery sarcasm, making "doctor" sound like a thinly veiled threat.
Donovan's hackles rose. She returned the murderous glare. "What are you trying to say?"
"Do I have to spell it out for you? I'm sorry, of course I do." He stepped closer into Sally's space. Her eyes widened, and her fingers twitched, clearly wishing she had a gun. "Hands. Off." Sally's eyes widened further. "Good. You understand." He smiled tightly and went back into the flat.
For the rest of the case he left Scotland Yard in the lurch and ran about London with John at his side. No grabby sergeants to interfere. At least not until after Sherlock so brilliantly solved everything within a week.
Sherlock was giving his statement and glanced out through the glass walls of Lestrade's office. Sgt. Donovan was sat at her desk, and leaning against it was John. Whatever Sally was saying to him was clearly not "pleasant" conversation if his expression was anything to go by. He briefly looked up and made eye contact with Sherlock. His frown deepened.
Sherlock and John didn't speak to each other the entire trip back to Baker St. Sherlock had a pretty good idea what Sally had said to him, and patiently waited for John to raise the subject.
The silence lasted until they were fully back at the flat, coats off, and standing in the sitting room. "Sally thinks I should move out."
"I suspect she also thinks you should move-in with her."
John continued like Sherlock never spoke. "She seems to be under the impression you are 'dangerously possessive' of me."
Sherlock smiled innocently. "I wonder where she could get an idea like that."
"Maybe it has something to do with you warning her off like a jealous lover?"
"Oh. That." Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"If you're going to stake your claim, I would have appreciated it if you had told me first."
"I didn't think you'd approve."
"I approve of you harassing Sally much less."
Emboldened, Sherlock stepped forward until he was almost chest-to-chest with his flatmate. "So, this is what you meant by it being 'all fine?'"
"Sherlock, could you just shut the hell up and kiss me?"
Sherlock closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. "I love it when you tell me-"
John put words into action, grabbing Sherlock's head and bringing it down for a kiss.
Yes, yes! Less telling, more showing! Sherlock's mind crowed as he manoeuvred them to the sofa without their lips losing contact.
Title: Those Four Little Words
Fandom: Sherlock
Pairing/Characters: Sherlock/John, Sally, Lestrade
Rating: PG (mild language, one dead body, Sherlock being an arse)
Word Count: 1163
Summary/Prompt: Anything with bickering that results in making out. Later amended: John and Sally form a tentative alliance. Sherlock is annoyed.
A/N: Much less making-out and more bickering...
A murder in Hyde Park. The police cordoned off only several metres from the body as the crime scene. Sherlock knew that the scene of the crime extended well beyond those boundaries. He'd have the entire park preserved if he could, but he already knew that Lestrade would vehemently argue against it. He turned to John, instead, to complain. But John was not where he was supposed to be: at Sherlock's side.
He scanned the area and found John over by the police tape talking to Sergeant Donovan. Normally, John would have been wearing that awkward, polite smile when he's too nice to just tell someone to "Shut the hell up." Sherlock took pride and pleasure in being the only person in their immediate acquaintance that can make John say "Shut the hell up!" quite often. But the smile John was giving now was the one that meant he was actually enjoying the conversation!
"John!" He shouted sharply. "Come here, I need you!"
John then smiled apologetically to Sally and jogged over to Sherlock. "What can I do?"
"Care to examine the body?"
John glanced down at the dead man clad in a jogger's outfit, but Sherlock knew was not a jogger. "Okay, sure." He crouched down in the frost-covered grass.
Sherlock crouched next to him. "What extra information did Sgt. Donovan provide?"
"What? Oh, uhm, actually we were just chatting."
"What could Sally Donovan have possibly worth saying to you?"
John stopped probing around the edge of the head wound (not the cause of death) and looked up at Sherlock, irritated. "As long as neither of us bring up each other's personal...relationships, Sgt. Donovan is a perfectly decent person."
Sherlock scoffed.
"Look, I'm just trying to make an effort. I don't like working in a hostile environment."
"This coming from a man who invaded Afghanistan, shoots murderers, and tackles assassins!"
"Scotland Yard is not the enemy, Sherlock."
"Nor are they your war buddies."
John's jaw clenched and he glared at Sherlock. Here it comes, Sherlock thought, happily, those four little words John only ever says to me.
John opened his mouth, but Lestrade, the bumbler, chose that moment to come over and say, "What do you have for me?"
Sherlock scowled. He left out important information simply out of spite.
A week after solving the case, John had written it up in his blog and titled it, "The Jogger in the Park."
"He was not a jogger, that was the point!"
"Exactly."
"Wha- I-" He tugged on his curls. "That's the least amount of sense you have ever made, and that's with some very strong competition."
John was still seated at his laptop in the sitting room while Sherlock was in the kitchen dissecting a frog. Suddenly, John started laughing. "Yes, John, the overweight, Japanese cat is quite fond of boxes. You should be over it by now."
"It's not that, it's an e-mail from Sally."
Since when did John start using Sgt Donovan's given name? Plus, "Why is Sally e-mailing you?"
"It's just a comedy e-mail, something she's probably forwarded it to her entire contact list."
"Why are you on her contact list? I'm not on her contact list."
"Because I'm not a prat."
"No, because you have exchanged e-mail addresses."
"Yes."
"Why!?"
"Sherlock."
"Yes?"
"Shut the hell up," John said, turning back to his computer.
Sherlock returned to the kitchen, smiling.
The sort of thing to make Sherlock stop smiling was what Donovan was doing the next time he was called in to a scene. It wasn't just talking.... there was smiling, laughing, and occasional touching. Comedy e-mails were one thing, but a line had to be drawn.
He waited until John was off in one corner of the of the apartment, taking notes from Lestrade. Sherlock found Sally in the hall having a low, but clearly heated argument with Anderson. When they saw him, they silenced and Anderson stomped off down the stairs.
"Troubles in paradise?" he asked with a sinister smile.
"None of your business, freak."
"Oh, I think it is my business since you seem keen on an upgrade."
"What-"
"From idiot adulterer to say a, maybe, I don't know, doctor?" He dropped the cheery sarcasm, making "doctor" sound like a thinly veiled threat.
Donovan's hackles rose. She returned the murderous glare. "What are you trying to say?"
"Do I have to spell it out for you? I'm sorry, of course I do." He stepped closer into Sally's space. Her eyes widened, and her fingers twitched, clearly wishing she had a gun. "Hands. Off." Sally's eyes widened further. "Good. You understand." He smiled tightly and went back into the flat.
For the rest of the case he left Scotland Yard in the lurch and ran about London with John at his side. No grabby sergeants to interfere. At least not until after Sherlock so brilliantly solved everything within a week.
Sherlock was giving his statement and glanced out through the glass walls of Lestrade's office. Sgt. Donovan was sat at her desk, and leaning against it was John. Whatever Sally was saying to him was clearly not "pleasant" conversation if his expression was anything to go by. He briefly looked up and made eye contact with Sherlock. His frown deepened.
Sherlock and John didn't speak to each other the entire trip back to Baker St. Sherlock had a pretty good idea what Sally had said to him, and patiently waited for John to raise the subject.
The silence lasted until they were fully back at the flat, coats off, and standing in the sitting room. "Sally thinks I should move out."
"I suspect she also thinks you should move-in with her."
John continued like Sherlock never spoke. "She seems to be under the impression you are 'dangerously possessive' of me."
Sherlock smiled innocently. "I wonder where she could get an idea like that."
"Maybe it has something to do with you warning her off like a jealous lover?"
"Oh. That." Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"If you're going to stake your claim, I would have appreciated it if you had told me first."
"I didn't think you'd approve."
"I approve of you harassing Sally much less."
Emboldened, Sherlock stepped forward until he was almost chest-to-chest with his flatmate. "So, this is what you meant by it being 'all fine?'"
"Sherlock, could you just shut the hell up and kiss me?"
Sherlock closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. "I love it when you tell me-"
John put words into action, grabbing Sherlock's head and bringing it down for a kiss.
Yes, yes! Less telling, more showing! Sherlock's mind crowed as he manoeuvred them to the sofa without their lips losing contact.