Author's note: Hello! I'm new to this all, so be kind. I haven't written a narrative in a multitude of years. I never finish multi-part stories, so I decided to try a one-shot to see how people like my writing style. Leave reviews to let me know if you like it or hate it. Only constructive criticism, please; I'm fragile. Not really, but we'll pretend if you want.
Disclaimer: I do not, never have, and never will own the rights to Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, 221B Baker Street or any other characters or distinctive landmarks that may be spoken about throughout this fanfiction.
Summary: Sherlock is not happy; he is missing a huge piece of the puzzle of his current case, and it is not going over well at 221B Baker Street. John tries to distract Sherlock with a movie in order to get some peace for one night. Sherlock/John.
Word count: 2519
Warnings: Slash, but nothing extreme.
"Why, John? What was the motive? Why was Jessica Bones killed?" Sherlock walked back and forth from the kitchen to the living area, a very frustrated look on his face, "She had no enemies; no person we spoke to had a single bloody bad thing to say about her. She walked perfectly, she spoke perfectly, she probably even shat perfectly. Evidently, this woman was a saint." Sherlock huffed in annoyance.
"Well maybe it was her boyfriend? He was always with her from what we have heard. He could have easily slipped some poison into her drink or her food." John suggested.
"Dominic loved Jessica. I know he wasn't lying when he said that. His tears were real, John; he genuinely loved her." Sherlock shook his head in annoyance, "Not even the people she worked with had anything bad to say about her! 'Oh, she was so lovely; always smiling and willing to lend a helping hand to anyone who needed it. She volunteered at the Homeless Shelter right down the street whenever she had any spare time! Such an angel.'" Sherlock mimicked an old lady's voice while making strange faces all the while.
"Robert was great friends with both Dominic and Jessica, too. He had been friends with Dominic since they were in primary school, apparently. There's no motive there, either." Sherlock shook his head, completely at a loss about what he was missing in this case. He stopped walking by the window and began to ponder, determinately staring through the glass to the street below.
"Sherlock, will you please relax for one night?" John said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at Sherlock's persistent pacing.
"How can I relax?" Sherlock half-snarled at John, walking over to the living area, "I know Lestrade is going to call me tomorrow expecting an answer to the case, but I haven't got an answer, John! The parts to this case simply don't match up, and it's painfully obvious that we're missing something huge. I need to know what that piece is before I can – as you say – relax."
John shook his head slightly and turned the telly on, flipping through the channels until he came across a program that look at least somewhat interesting.
"You know, sometimes giving your brain a short break can help. Allow your subconscious to start stringing things together; analyze every day occurrences or objects, and maybe something will trigger an idea in that brilliant mind of yours." John replied after a short silence, never breaking his gaze from the telly.
After not receiving a reply, John chanced a glance back at his flatmate who, at the moment, was staring at the doctor with an odd expression. He quickly averted his gaze; suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the way Sherlock was staring at him.
After another short, slightly awkward silence, Sherlock responded in a much softer tone, "That actually makes sense, John."
The doctor turned back toward Sherlock with a surprised look on his face. He never expected the detective to actually agree with him on such an important matter.
"Let's do something, then. Do you think it would be better to stick around the flat or go out about the town?" Sherlock asked.
"Well, since it's 1 in the morning, not many places will be open. How about we just stay in and find a movie on the telly?" John suggested, still slightly skeptical about Sherlock's dedication to his idea.
Sherlock simply shrugged in reply to signify his acceptance. He walked over to the couch John was sitting on and gracefully plopped down on it, making sure to leave a respectable amount of space between them.
"Go on, then." Sherlock urged, "Find a movie. Distract me from my work." He paused, "Please do me a favor, though, and don't pick an extremely predictable movie with an over-used, cliché plot. I'd rather not figure out who the killer is 10 minutes into the movie."
John simply rolled his eyes, a slight smile playing at the corners of his lips. The chances of John finding a movie that fit that criteria on regular TV was slim, so instead he stood up and walked over to the tellyvision to plug his laptop up to it. John started browsing through Netflix and finally came across one of his favorite movies. He grinned; Sherlock might actually enjoy this type of movie. He pressed play using his mouse, and the movie started to buffer. John noticed the skeptical look Sherlock threw him upon noticing his decision, but he just set his laptop on the ground near the telly and sat back down next to Sherlock.
"Remember, remember the fifth of November, the gunpowder treason and plot. I know of no reason why the gunpowder treason should ever be forgot." The opening quote of V for Vendetta played through the speakers of the tellyvision.
John glanced over at Sherlock, knowing full well that the opening line would be enough to intrigue the detective. He suppressed a knowing smile and turned his attention back to the screen.
Within the first ten minutes of the movie, John knew he had successfully diverted Sherlock's attention from the case. Sherlock sat in his seat, propped up slightly against the arm of the couch with his full attention on V's rant.
"Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone vexation, stands vivified and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition. The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it's my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V."
John noticed the impressed look on Sherlock's face and smirked. Upon realizing that he wouldn't have to worry about Sherlock losing his interest any time soon, John turned his attention back to the telly and continued watching the movie.
About a an hour and a half later, John felt as though the temperature in the house had plummeted. He crossed his arms over his chest and unknowingly shivered. Sherlock, of course, noticed John's sudden – however subtle – movements and looked at him.
"You're cold. Let me get you a blanket or something." Sherlock said, his attention now completely devoted to John's well-being. He stood up and grabbed a blanket that was lying across the back of an armchair near him. Sherlock tossed the blanket over John and sat back down on the couch, a little closer to him than he had been previously.
"Thanks, Sherlock." John said, adjusting himself so that he was more comfortable under the warmth of the blanket. "Are you cold at all? This is big enough for the both of us, you know."
Sherlock suddenly realized how cold he actually was and nodded in response to John's question. John smiled slightly and scooted over toward Sherlock's side of the couch. The doctor tossed part of the blanket over Sherlock, who readjusted himself to fit under it better.
Heat seemed to radiate between the two men. John's right arm and leg were completely against Sherlock's left side of his body. John could feel his heartbeat speed up slightly from being in such close proximity to Sherlock; it wasn't common for this sort of physical contact to occur between the flatmates.
The doctor tried to take a deep breath through his nose, hoping it would relax him enough to divert his attention back to the movie. His attempt backfired, however, when he caught a whiff of an incredibly delectable smell. John realized immediately how bad of a mistake it was to be sitting that close to Sherlock; while his feelings for his flatmate were typically very easy to push aside, the intoxicating aroma Sherlock was emitting was driving John insane. The doctor felt his pupils dilate, his heartbeat increase even more and his palms start to sweat.
Sherlock turned his head slightly to examine John. He had felt his flatmate's body tense up against him and was looking to see what was wrong with him. What he saw was surprising to say the least; John's normally light brown eyes appeared to be completely taken over by his black pupils, while his body seemed to put off even more heat than it had when John had first placed the blanket over them.
'Interesting...' Sherlock thought. He decided that he was going to figure out what was wrong with John before he asked. To find out, however, he had to do some investigative research. Sherlock shifted his left hand from its former position on his lap to the crevice between his leg and John's leg. John tensed visibly, resulting in a very subtle grin to appear on Sherlock's face.
'This is going to be good.'Sherlock thought, 'It's obvious that this physical contact makes him uncomfortable. Perhaps I should push it a bit more...'
Sherlock started to slowly scratch his leg, knowing full well that his knuckles would be slightly pushing into John's leg. Sherlock heard John take a very short, sharp breath and tried hard not to smile. His plan was working perfectly. Another idea popped into his head at that moment, so he slyly started shifting in accordance to his plan. He removed his left hand from its spot (with a noted sigh of relief from John's seat), removed his shoes and lifted his body up so that he could sit with his right foot under his left leg. Immediately, he started wiggling his toes against John's leg that was pressed up against his foot and shifted his left hand back to its previous place between their legs; though this time his hand was placed higher up the outside of John's thigh. Sherlock tried not to grin too noticeably and continued the 'itching' of his leg.
John tried to relax and not think anything of it. Sherlock was often quite hyperactive and fidgety at night, so he should know better than to believe that the detective was doing all of this intentionally. Sherlock's knuckles rubbing against his leg was making him want to sigh in pleasure, though, and he was having a hard time holding his reaction down.
"Why is something so simple and stupid making me feel this way? What type of person gets turned on by someone scratching himself?" John thought to himself, all the while trying not to focus on how good it all felt.
Sherlock noticed John's suddenly thoughtful face and took the opportunity to make a daring leap in his investigative research. The detective started to slide his left hand from its current spot to the top of John's thigh to feel his pulse through his Femoral artery. Just as he suspected, John's heart was beating more toward 100 beats per minute as opposed to his typical 77.
Sherlock openly turned to face John with a slight smile on his face. John tried to avoid looking at his flatmate, but he quickly failed and resigned to make eye contact with him.
'Big mistake.' John thought upon seeing the devilish grin on Sherlock's face.
Sherlock suddenly stopped.
'Oh my... He's not uncomfortable.' Sherlock thought, carefully examining John, 'He likes this.'
Everything simultaneously clicked into place in Sherlock's mind; the dilated pupils, the excess heat, the increased heart rate... It all made sense. And suddenly, he knew what he had to do.
Sherlock slowly turned his body to face his flatmate as he lifted his right hand up to his cheek; John's eyelids drooping a little as he naturally leaned into Sherlock's touch. The detective slowly leaned forward and finally placed his lips against John's in a soft, lingering kiss. A feeling Sherlock had never felt before shot through him; it was as though an electric eel was continuously pulsing small amounts of electricity through him. It affected every nerve in his body and gave him a sudden burst of happiness and energy.
John, upon realizing just how real this all was, started moving his lips against Sherlock's at a deliberately slow pace. He placed his left hand on top of Sherlock's own on his thigh, and wrapped his right arm around Sherlock's back, pulling him closer. Sherlock kissed back with enthusiasm, slipping his tongue into John's mouth while massaging his thigh with his left hand. The detective shifted his right hand from John's cheek to the back of his head, running his fingers through the doctor's short hair.
Suddenly, after a few more moments of kissing, Sherlock pulled back and jumped up from the couch. John, stunned by Sherlock's suddenly quick movements, looked up at him in surprise.
"What's wrong?" John asked, worried that Sherlock was regretting his actions.
Sherlock smiled one of the biggest smiles John had ever witnessed on him and replied, "Nothing! Nothing at all is wrong; in fact, everything is right." He leaned down to the couch and placed a quick kiss on John's lips, "I figured out what the missing part of the case was!"
John looked at Sherlock, completely confused as to how making out with his best friend had triggered any sort of revelation about a murder. "Care to elaborate?" John asked.
Sherlock just smiled, "Don't you see? Robert Hensley, Dominic's best friend, killed Jessica!"
John just stared at Sherlock, confused. "How can you not understand? Robert was in love with Dominic! He killed her – poisoned her – because he was jealous! Robert was probably the only person who could have anything but love for Jessica."
A sudden look of understanding ghosted over John's face as the pieces to the case started to fit together in his mind. "How are we going to prove that to Lestrade, Sherlock?"
"Jessica was poisoned by a very specific type of poison that isn't sold in America. Whoever poisoned her had to of done research to get it, so all we have to do is get Robert's computer records. You met him, so you know he's probably not intelligent enough to have deleted his browsing history." Sherlock sat down next to John again, a beautiful smile on his face.
"You know, you were right about the whole 'clearing my mind' bit. The movie really did help distract me from the case... and you did a damn good job of distracting me from the movie." Sherlock placed his hand on John's cheek again,"I have the feeling I'm going to need to be distracted more often, John."
John smiled in return and said, "I may be able to help with that, detective," before pulling Sherlock in for another kiss.