JohnLock

"There were two killings, remember. The countdown is only half of it, Mrs. Jones will hold the rest of answers for us. She had a similar tattoo under her wrist, we can wait for the body. Well, since Anderson is driving it over, it will be a half an hour. Time to waste then."
He tucks his magnifying glass in his shirt pocket, he hates that he has to wait. That Sherlock can't just jump into the case, solving it, saving people, saving John any more worries. That last part...
He can't get John's panicked face out of his head, especially after the fact that they just confessed their love for each other. That makes this more than a case. It makes it so extremely important and he keeps that fact hidden inside. So how exactly should John be distracted for the next half an hour.
"Shall we go get coffee?"


 
The corner of John's mouth quirks up slightly. "Are you asking me out on a date, Sherlock Holmes?" he asks playfully. Truth is, he's pleased. Very pleased. As they haven't technically been on an official date yet, he's quite excited to add to his list of "firsts" with Sherlock. So he reaches over and takes Sherlock's hand, not even trying to contain his grin. "Because if so, I'd love to," he adds, smile too big for his face. The thought of going on a date with Sherlock, even just a casual one like this, especially just a casual one like this, when he had thought that Sherlock wouldn't do dates, period... it pushes all worries about the case out of his mind. "Where do you want to go?"
 
This is good. It's clear from from John's grin that the idea of going out has entranced him and cleared his mind. Which is exactly what he wants. Again, something else to file in his mind palace. But he's not exactly sure where he should take him.
"Erm, well, there should be a shop down the street. We are in the middle of London." He tries to make it seem like he knows what he's doing, like he's not utterly clueless. Though, John appears to see through that mask, making Sherlock avert his eyes. He feels....well, embarrassed. Sherlock Holmes is embarrassed, what a novelty.
"I'm not...domestic, John. Don't expect me to be."
 
Ohhh. John quickly gets what the problem is. He was wondering why Sherlock looked nervous. "I don't expect you to be," he says, squeezing Sherlock's hand affectionately. "I would say that I wouldn't like you half as much if you were, but I think I would like you in any form you might take, so that would be a lie."

He takes Sherlock's other hand so that they're facing each other, although Sherlock is still avoiding his eyes. "Normal doesn't do it for me," he says tenderly, but firmly. "It never has. I don't want normal, I don't want domestic, I want you." He lets go of Sherlock's hand to gently tilt his chin up, forcing the detective to meet his eyes. "All right?" he asks. "You don't have to act domestic if you don't want to be, and you don't have to act like you know what you're doing. You don't have to pretend with me. I want you the way you are, exactly as you are right now."
 
"John, I.."
He pulls him in, because he can't really contain that need, that need to kiss John when he says things like that. Things that make him realize just how much John is his. He presses his lips down, as if in desperation. "I love you."
Sherlock really, completely does love his doctor. He can't stress that enough, because at times, he finds it hard to open up. His arms snake around John's waist, with no sign of letting go besides for that date.
 
John closes his eyes blissfully and kisses Sherlock back, wrapping his arms around the detective's neck. I love you. He doesn't think he'll ever get tired of hearing Sherlock say those words to him, not ever. After so long hoping, wishing, dreaming that it would one day happen, the fact that it has seems like a miracle, and he can't get enough of it. He can't keep the smile off of his face at the words, even while kissing Sherlock, because now Sherlock hasn't just said it as a response to John saying it (although that was a miracle in and of itself), but said it of his own volition, said it because he means it, and that's the most wonderful thing John can think of. "I love you too," he murmurs, pressing their foreheads together. "God, I love it when you say that."
 
"Well then, I'll try and say it more often."
John is the only one who has or will make him feel like this. Like some euphoria just blasted across his face, he can't clarify how happy John's reaction makes him. Hearing John affirm that this love isn't one-sided. And then Sherlock wants to try something out, he wants to tell John the things he does love about him. There are so many.
"Mhmm," he can't remove his gaze, he wouldn't dare remove his gaze, "I love that. The way you're smiling, but in your eyes too. That..."
He laughs at himself, Sherlock really has never done anything like this before.
"I love knowing I made that smile happen."


(Haha, I just realized something. Not to kill the romantic vibe and all, but they're still in the morgue and there is a body out, and I'm finding it too amusing for my own good. XD )
 
((Oh my god you perfect person. I love you forever for the beauty of that post, srsly.))

Sherlock's words go right to John's heart and settle there, warm and brilliant, and John really cannot help the involuntary way his grin grows even more, or the way his throat gets a little choked up as he replies, "I smile because you make me so... just... beyond happy." He shakes his head in happy disbelief. "I'm still wondering how I could have possibly gotten lucky enough to get you." That's honest. That's so very honest, and his curiosity is leaking through. "I mean, there's, well, there's you," he says, looking very pointedly up and down as much of Sherlock as he can see when he's this close, "beautiful, genius, amazing you, and then there's... well, me." He shrugs. "Not that there's anything wrong with me, of course, but compared to you, I'm very ordinary." With a loving smile, he studies those gorgeous blue eyes that are so intensely watching him back. "I just can't believe someone as brilliant as you... would want to be with someone as ordinary as me," he admits, rather sheepishly.
 
(You, Katey, make me feel utterly fantastic. Thank you! <3)

He wants to say, Shut up, John. Or Don't be an idiot.
"You are most certainly not ordinary." because what Sherlock really wants to say is this, "You, John, are the most extraordinary and fascinating and gorgeous man I will ever meet. There is no one remotely like you, so don't you dare..."
John Watson is anything but ordinary and to Sherlock-"You are perfect. Do you understand, I love you and only you, because only you are loyal, kind, so very kind, forgiving, and the jumpers and the way you make coffee and how you yell at me when you're angry, or always being there, even when I act like an ass. Because let's face it, that happens often. The way you look at me and follow me, when I do the stupidest things, or try to sacrifice yourself, and how much you care..."
He knows he isn't exactly making sense. It's just the fact that John can't see IT. How he can't see that he is the most beautiful creature. It makes Sherlock want to list everything, everything that he loves about his doctor, even if it doesn't make sense to anyone but Sherlock.
"
 
John is... completely speechless. He sees the earnestness in Sherlock's eyes, the depth of the emotion there, and it has him paralyzed, but what's really got him shocked are the words, the endless words pouring out of Sherlock's mouth. All of the reasons he loves John, all of the things he's noticed that John didn't even know about, and the way he's rambling on and on like he can't get out the previous item on his mental list fast enough before he thinks of another, all of it has him stunned. He didn't know Sherlock cared that much, noticed that much about him, thought so highly of him, and he can't... he just...

Before John realizes it he's thrown his arms around Sherlock and buried his face in Sherlock's neck. "I love you," he mumbles, muffled, into the collar of Sherlock's coat. "God, you wonderful, brilliant man, I love you so much." He wants to say so much more, so much more, but he can't find the words to describe the emotion that's coursing through him properly, so he settles for just clinging to Sherlock, his Sherlock​, even tighter.
 
He presses his lips to the top of John's head, so utterly jubilant because he's made John realize how important he is to Sherlock. No matter what happens, the one thing that will never cease to be perfect is John. His John.
Sherlock wants to freeze this moment, because he never wants to let go. He doesn't want to move or go solve that case, all he wants right now, is be with John. Tell John things that he finds fantastic, kiss him, hold his hand, he never thought he would want this a...relationship. But he wants it badly with John, so badly.
"And I will always love you back."

-Off to bed now, Night-y Night :D
 
John simply remains there for another few moments, clinging to his detective, too overwhelmed to move. This was Sherlock, Sherlock holding him, Sherlock telling him he'll always love him, Sherlock kissing the top of his head. Sherlock, who loves John so much more than he knew, and seems intent to change that as thoroughly as possible. A few hours ago, he had thought that this would never happen. And now... well, it's a good thing that Sherlock will always love him, because John doesn't think he could ever live without him again.

Eventually, he leans back and gives Sherlock a very light, gentle kiss. "Well, I think we've used up half of our coffee time," he says with a small quirk of his lips, indicating that he does not mind that in the slightest. "But we can still go, if you like. Or," he hesitates for a moment, considering, "we could stay." He glances at the body on the table next to them. "Somehow I don't think she'll mind."

((Oh god.. NO NO NO I JUST IMAGINED HOW MUCH WORSE IT WOULD BE IF THIS WERE CANON AND REICHENBACH HAPPENED OH GOD SAVE ME FROM THE FEELZ TT.TT ))
 
"Coffee or kissing you? I think we both know what I'm going to choose." He tilts his head at John, kissing him deeply. Because what they have, what he assumes they will always have, is something Sherlock won't dare waste. The way they lead their lives, they could lose them so easily. It's morbid, but true.
And then there is this case...this damned bittersweet case. Without it, no one would have spoken the word "Love", but still, it put everything in jeopardy.
Sherlock tries to put those dark thoughts from his mind, you have to focus on John now. On this.
He leans into him, his whole mindset now focused on how good this felt.

(NOW I HAVE THE FEELS TOO!! ACK. Time to put up I believe in Sherlock Holmes posters around school. To help the feelings)
 
((Apologies for the lack of posts today! Got super busy. Stupid school.))

John smiles as he kisses Sherlock back, twining his hands into the detective's hair. While he had been looking forward to going on a date with Sherlock, nothing, nothing beat actually kissing Sherlock. He does so quite enthusiastically for a few minutes, enjoying the feeling of Sherlock wanting him, of Sherlock's lips on his, of Sherlock holding him close. But eventually he pulls back to breathe, chuckling slightly at the way Sherlock's lips impatiently try to follow his. The detective makes a slight disgruntled noise low in his throat as John turns his lips slightly away to gasp for air, and it is just so damn attractive that it should be illegal. "Hold on," John breathes, head swimming. "Just... just give me a second."

He pulls away from Sherlock ever so slightly, eliciting another of those unfairly attractive annoyed sounds. John shakes his head to shush him, breathing still a little uneven. "I just... I want to look at you." He smiles sheepishly. "I've spent too long pretending I wasn't ogling you from across the room. Now that I can do so openly... I want to take advantage of it." So he does, looking Sherlock slowly up and down, spending a long time studying the way his shirt is almost too tight, his face, his eyes (god, those eyes, I could get lost in them forever), his curls. He raises one hand absently to cup Sherlock's cheek, marveling at it, at the way Sherlock leans into his hand almost involuntarily. He's vaguely aware of the slight smile on his lips as he looks, but he knows how Sherlock loves to see him smile, so he doesn't try to hide it.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs.

((I find this a suitable coping method, and I applaud you for spreading the IBISH movement.))
 
John pulling away does leave him disgruntled, hadn't this been what they stayed for? And then he hears John's words, words of flattery that make it sound as if Sherlock's transport is something fantastic.
"I don't know how true that sentiment is when you're in the room." he says as he turns his face to kiss the palm of John's hand. Sherlock looks over him, not hiding the grin that pops up when he does.
Because it's John, his gorgeous John, that after knowing him this long, he could pick out every glorious detail of that face. And because he knows John, he doesn't just see some attractive body, no, he sees that personality becoming him. So he knows that no one is more beautiful that his John.
 
John chuckles slightly and lays his head on Sherlock's shoulder, wrapping his arms around the detective's waist. It's quickly becoming his favorite place. He feels SAFE there - which, to be fair, is something he's always felt with Sherlock, from the moment he met him. After Afghanistan, nothing was really safe. Everything was normal, yes, but the normal was TOO normal, and the nightmares just got worse and worse- and then he met Sherlock Holmes. And suddenly he felt safer than he'd ever felt before the detective waltzed into his life - back in danger, yes, but that didn't matter so much with Sherlock.

Their lives are constantly in danger, of course, and he knows that, he'd be lying if he said it didn't trouble him sometimes. But with the mysterious man in the long coat standing next to him, he doesn't feel so alone. He feels secure. In his arms, even more so.

"You underestimate yourself," he murmurs.

((I find it very amusing that they're essentially CUDDLING IN A MORGUE. NEXT TO A CORPSE. Just like them to be unorthodox. XD))
 
"It seems to be a trait we both share."
He rests his head on top of John's, oddly at ease. John's arms encasing him felt...comforting. That was a strange feeling, he couldn't exactly tell whether it was good or not. But he kind of likes it. John holding him close, taking control...
Sherlock exhales, he presses his lips down onto John's neck .
"Mhm. My perfect John Watson."

(Yep! Also, I suspect Molly is checking through the windows and falling down from a fangirl attack.)
 
John inhales sharply, in reaction to both Sherlock's words (so completely genuine and earnest that John can't doubt that it's his true opinion) and ohhh, those are his lips on John's neck and he can't help the soft and appreciative "Mmmm..." that slips out. He tilts his chin up, almost involuntarily, to give Sherlock better access. "You are," he says breathily, "very good at this, you know that?"

((MOLLY IS A SECRET SHIPPER. SHE TOTALLY WRITES FANFIC ABOUT THEM IN HER SPARE TIME. THAT'S IT, HEADCANNON ACCEPTED, ALL ARGUMENTS WILL BE CONCLUSIVELY IGNORED.))
 
He smirks, Sherlock is starting to have a nicely sized file in the mind palace now, "Hmm, imagine when I've actually got more than a few hours worth of experience."
Sherlock begins to slowly move his lips up John's neck, kissing the line of his jaw, making his way back to John's mouth.
Is it bad that he can't help himself? Now that he can do this, anytime he feels like, he doesn't want to stop. Sherlock just loves everything to do with his John.

(We make so much headcannon on this RP. I LOVE IT!)
 
The idea causes John to inhale rather sharply, and then Sherlock's lips are back on his, and he's kissing John with the kind of passion usually reserved for particularly clever serial killings. Well, I can't let him get the best of me, can I? thinks John mischievously, and before he can overthink it he slides his hands down and back up just under the back of Sherlock's shirt.

Which may have been a mistake.

Because now he's very distracted by the fact that he's got his hands on the bare skin of Sherlock's lower back, in a place previously forbidden by the friendship blockade. Now that's gone, and he loves the sensation, and his brain starts wandering off and damn, damn, what was that witty retort again?

At least if he's distracted, it appears that Sherlock is as well, judging by his reaction. Wait, that was it!

So he chuckles, low in his throat, and whispers against Sherlock's mouth, "And imagine now much experience I've already got." Ha. Let's see what he makes of that.

((I concur, IT IS THE BEST.))