Disclaimer: BBC's Sherlock belongs to various persons and corporations that are not me or associated with me. This piece of fanfiction is written with the admiration and respect for the original work. I claim no ownership of the show, Sherlock, or its accouterments. No profit is made from this material, now or in the future.
Thanks to Armity and Lexiodessa for beta-reading.
Now that Sherlock had done away with romantic rivals, John was pretty sure the man was trying to sabotage his job. It was hard enough before, getting up in the morning to go into the surgery, knowing that any moment something exciting could happen and he'd be running around London with Sherlock beside him and adrenaline pumping through his veins. Now that they were lovers, it was even worse. He used to get breaks in-between cases. Sometimes, it was even a relief when he was able to go to work instead of staying home and dealing with Sherlock's bored tantrums.
Now, if there was no case to occupy him, Sherlock tended to turn his attention to John, which could be rather lovely. Overall, it was pretty much the life they led before, except with more sex and less of John's denials. It was actually somewhat relaxing, finally having the matter of their relationship decided upon. They were in one. There. Done. Moving on.
Except Sherlock had a mobile phone with limitless texting.
He was under no illusions that Sherlock suddenly came to an epiphany after their first shag and decided to turn himself into a fourteen-year-old girl who couldn't go more than an hour without texting. No, Sherlock was up to something. John was pretty sure it involved getting him fired so that Sherlock would have more access to his time and person.
It certainly wasn't because someone's life was on the line.
What's your favorite colour? SH
Do people really spend time thinking these sorts of thoughts? SH
Mrs. Hudson says Nina Johanson is moving into 221C. SH
Do you still want to have sex with her? SH
Nina. Not Mrs. Hudson. SH
OUT OF FORMALDEHYDE AGAIN. SH
When's your birthday? SH
Nevermind, Mycroft sent me your service records. SH
I'm going to throw you a surprise party. SH
Your sister added me as a friend on facebook. SH
Convinced her to add Anderson too. SH
He'll never suspect your sister. SH
WHERE'S YOUR GUN? SH
After eight hours of that, John was proud that he hadn't accidentally killed a patient or lost his job. Deciding he deserved a treat, he stopped off at the grocer's on the way home. It'd make him late and that would annoy Sherlock, but that was half the reason he was doing it. They showed affection in unconventional ways. He picked up dinner for himself. Sherlock had sworn off solid food this week as part of some experiment. Everything had to be eaten through a straw. Unfortunately, Sherlock had taken apart their blender and couldn't figure out how to put it back together again. John picked him up nicotine patches and some unbleached cow stomach. That should cheer him up. Then John went to the freezer aisle and decided upon the most expensive vanilla ice cream they had.
Okay, now Sherlock was just fucking with him. The bastard. He'd have to make his own bowl and John was putting the cow stomach back in punishment. It served him right. On second thought . . . he picked up the cow stomach again. Sherlock was already very obviously in a mood, adding boredom to that would only make it worse.
Bringing you fresh stomach, he texted while waiting in line.
You're such a romantic. SH
They had a complicated relationship. Obviously.
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