John frowned up the stairs as he opened the door to 221b Baker Street, a familiar smell drifting down from their flat to meet him at the door. It took him a second to realise it was smoke, rolling his eyes before hurrying up the stairs to see what exactly his flatmate had set fire to this time.
The living room was covered in a thin grey fog, seeming to lead from the kitchen. John sighed, Sherlock spun round as he stepped inside and John knew from his wide eyes that he wasn't going to like this. "Oh...hello." "Sherlock," "Good day? Surgery busy?" John didn't need to be a genius to see that Sherlock was trying to distract him from something, standing a little too casually in front of the washing machine. The washing machine currently spilling smoke everywhere. "Sherlock, what exactly have you done?" He shrugged, stepping aside to reveal their now destroyed washing machine.
"It was an accident?" Sherlock winced at the look on John's face, "Do you know how many of my clothes were in there?" "You don't even own that many clo...Oh, Oh. Oh God." John nodded, "Yeah. Pretty much. Bloody well done, Sherlock." An awkward silence fell over the kitchen, John fuming as Sherlock glanced up at the lingering smoke. "...Was it a lot?" John just glared at him, "Well lets just say it's a good job I don't have work again this week, because I'd be going back in these." He tugged at the shirt he was wearing. Sherlock's eyes dropped to the floor, "...I'll buy you some new ones." "You're bloody right you will, I don't even want to get changed now in case I run out before we go."
Sherlock bit back whatever he was going to say as he looked up, the look on John's face making him reconsider. John turned from the room, Sherlock heard the door slam, muffled footsteps on the stairs and a second slam announcing he'd entered his room. Sherlock sighed, glancing at the ruined washing machine before heading across the flat to open the main windows, booting up his laptop as he passed it. If he couldn't make John happy then he'd fix the other problem, keying in washing machines and frowning at the screen.
John frowned as the knock on the door, turning over on his bed so his back was facing it. "John?" He hugged his body tighter, willing the idiot the other side of his door to just go away. Sherlock rolled his eyes, "I'm not going away."
"What do you want?" "Can I come in?" "No." John huffed as he heard the door click, grudgingly sitting up on the bed as it opened, an usually sheepish Sherlock stood in the doorway. "Do you ever listen to me?" Sherlock shrugged, "I'm sorry...I didn't think it was going to explode." "Sherlock that's not the point, I'm sick of you doing all these 'experiments' and nearly destroying the flat." Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed, "I'll stop doing them then."
"No you won't," John muttered, moving closer to him on the bed. Sherlock smiled, "No, I am sorry though." John leaned over, pressing a simple kiss to his lips. "I know. You're still buying me new clothes though." "Of course, tomorrow?" "Fine with me." The two sat close for a while, John's head had almost dropped to Sherlock's shoulder when his stomach decided to make it's presence known. He groaned as Sherlock laughed, "I should probably eat something," "There's a Chinese on the way." He frowned up at Sherlock, "What? You've been locked up here for hours." John sighed, "I hate it when you do that."
Sherlock glanced up at John as he entered the room the next morning, holding his credit card up in the air. John reached for it but instead grabbed his wrist, tugging Sherlock off the sofa. "Don't think I'm letting you off that easily, you're coming with me," Sherlock glared at John as he stood from the floor, "What, why?" "What kind of payback would it be if you got to mope around here while I spent all of Mycroft's money?" "My money." "Its Mycroft's money," "it's mine! And I do not mope." "Mhm" John just hummed as he passed Sherlock his coat.
Sherlock's expression didn't alter once in the time it took them to get to the shopping centre. John had learnt in the first five minutes to hide his amusement at the constant look of disgust on Sherlock's face, though he still took some personal enjoyment out of the fact as he glowered at everyone else in the centre. He frowned as a small child came near him, pulling his coat out of the way of small hands no doubt covered in something sticky, the shudder at the appreciative noises erupting from a group of young girls as they passed was particularly amusing to John, especially as Sherlock all but clung to his arm to get away.
Okay maybe bringing Sherlock to a shopping centre on a Saturday was a bad idea John thought to himself as they entered one shop, "ugh," "What now?" Sherlock's eyes narrowed, "youths."
"You were young once, Sherlock." John shrugged, moving over to a shelf of jumpers, "Yes but I had the common decency to stay inside." "Is that the reason you're going with now?" Sherlock glared at John, eyeing what the boys were wearing with his eyebrow raised, "are you sure you want to shop somewhere that caters to people like that?" "Sherlock it's just a shop. I'm not exactly going to come out dressed like I'm fourteen, am I?" "I should bloody hope not," Sherlock sniffed, and John bit his lip to hide his grin.
After half an hour and some not so lovely remarks about the personal lives of other shoppers John had begun to tire of Sherlock's mood, he glanced over at his flatmate, stood stony faced and half hidden in the collar of his coat and sighed, "fancy a coffee?"
"There's something wrong with that child." John looked round from their table, spotting a rather sad looking child sat at the table across, "It's because she looked at you," John mumbled, turning back to his drink "John are you saying I've got a face that makes babies cry?" "I'm not, but the evidence is." Sherlock just rolled his eyes, kicking John under the table to attempt to hide the grin forming on his lips. "Come on, drink up I'm not finished yet." Sherlock groaned, slumping back in his seat and nudging at the bags by John's feet. "Haven't you got enough already?" John smiled, "No. Not if I want replace everything you ruined." Sherlock frowned, kicking once at the closest bag, "You're not going to let me forget this, are you?" John grinned, "Not for a long time, come on!"
The caffeine, at least, seemed to have a slight effect on Sherlock's mood, and he ceased picking apart the people around them. He even went as far as to show a vague interest in the clothes, mostly poking them and muttering his disapproval, but it was a step up. At least it was keeping him quiet, John thought as he pushed aside the rows of shirts hunting for his size...too quiet, he realised too late. "Sherlock?" John looked up just to see very familiar curls retreating off across the shop, heading for the accessories. Of course, scarves. John made a mental note to never bring Sherlock shopping in autumn again.
Sherlock returned a few minutes later, a small bag poking out of his coat pocket. "Couldn't resist, no?" "Shut up." He snapped, it's affect lessened by the small smile on his lips. John returned his attention to the clothes, Sherlock shuffling about beside him.
"May I ask why I'm here? You're not even asking for my opinion." John didn't turn from the rail, "and why would I ever want to do that?" "What you wear matters to me too, you know." "oh why, because you couldn't take me to a crime scene if I was wearing the wrong thing?"
John turned just in time to see Sherlock smirk,"crime scene sure," here Sherlock dropped his voice, dropping his head down near John's, "my bed is a different matter..." Sherlock brushed past him and it took John a second to recover, walking quickly to catch up as he saw him drift across the shop, muttering as he passed, "Funny, last time I was there I seem to remember the dress code being well, rather casual..." He grinned widely as he heard Sherlock choke on a breath, shrugging innocently at him before moving quickly to safety behind more rails.
John glanced to Sherlock as they left the shop, "I promise this will be the last one." "It's fine, John, really." "You're bored out of your mind," Sherlock smiled to him, "I'd be bored in the flat...here," He reached down to some John's bags, taking them from him and shushing his protests. "You're loaded up." John smiled and Sherlock rolled his eyes, giving him a gentle shove before quickening his pace, "Where now, then?"
Sherlock frowned up at the shop front as they entered, "I didn't think you wore so many labels," John looked behind him, "I don't, usually, I can't afford them." "Oh. Well thanks for that." He grinned, "no, thank you, Sherlock." Sherlock frowned, "I wish it was bloody Mycroft's money now." John laughed, heading over to a table towards the back covered in pairs of folded up jeans. Sherlock's interest raised considerably as he spotted them and he waited patiently for John to find his size before casually chipping in, "are you sure they'll fit?" John didn't take it the way it was intended, if his expression was anything to go by, "Why, what are you saying?" "Nothing! You're just not used to this brand...you should try them on." "...You think?" John eyed the jeans, "they look fine." "Even so, you can never be sure." "I thought you wanted to go home?" "Well it won't take you long," Sherlock smiled, reaching for the rest of John's bags, "Look the changing rooms are only over there, I'll hold your things." "I don't have a choice in this do I?" "Not in the slightest." John sighed at Sherlock, but passed over his bags, "I'll only be a minute," he said as they reached the changing rooms, "Take your time." Sherlock replied with another smile, making sure to clock which booth John entered as he went inside.
John sighed as he pulled the curtain over, swallowing back the vague awkwardness he always felt in changing rooms. He didn't even see why Sherlock was so adamant about him trying them on. He sighed as he toed off his shoes, undoing his trousers and pulling them down. He gasped as the curtain moved, all ready to shout at the intruder as a very familiar coat poked through the gap.
"Sherlock what the hell? … Where are my things?" Sherlock smiled at him, "Oh don't worry they're taking care of them." "How did they even let you in?" Sherlock waved the solitary top he was holding, "They're so helpful in here John, desperate for a sale...so how are the jeans?"
"I haven't tried them yet..." "Well go on then." "I'm not trying them with you here!" Sherlock sighed, "John, you take your clothes off in front of me all the time, how is this any different?" "I don't know, it just is." Sherlock merely raised his eyebrow in response. "Just try them on John, my presence should make no difference to you."
John grumbled but did as suggested, Sherlock sat on the tiny stool to give him some room. John lost his balance for a moment as he raised a leg to pull on the jeans and Sherlock's hands moved to his waist, steadying him as he tugged them on. John wriggled out of his grasp as he pulled the jeans up and fastened them, looking at his reflection in the mirror, "what do you think, then?" John frowned as there was no answer. "Sherlock?" he looked round and saw Sherlock staring at him, or more rightly the lower part of him, now quite snug in very well fitting jeans. "Sherlock?" he blinked as Johns fingers waved in front of his eyes, a slight blush forming on his cheeks as he realised he'd been caught. "Yes err good, very good." John wasn't a fool, knew well enough by now when Sherlock was getting flustered. "You like them then?" John actually did a turn in front of Sherlock, hearing the man's breath hitch as he saw just how well the jeans fitted John.
"God yes." "How much?" Sherlock looked up, eyes locking with John's as his hands returned to his waist. "How about I show you how much?" John frowned as Sherlock dropped off the stool and to his knees, legs bent awkwardly in the small space.
"Sherlock what are you doing?" Sherlock ignored him, shifting until he was as comfortable as he could get before reaching up to the fly on the jeans, quickly undoing it, "Sherlock stop it." He tugged the jeans down, "get up before oh," John's underwear had swiftly followed. "Sherlock bloody hell we're in public!" "Then shut up." Sherlock ignored the hands pushing at his head and took a firm grip of John's cock. John's eyes were wide, and only slightly because of his current predicament. "Sherlock, you can't be serious..." The smirk he received told him Sherlock definitely was, and he groaned as Sherlock's hand started to move on him, stroking his cock gently. John sighed, wanting to ignore the feeling already bubbling up in his stomach. Sherlock glanced up at him, seeing his features relax he felt a renewed confidence in his plan. He shuffled forward, distracting John with his hand as he settled in front of him, leaning forward he gave the tip of John's cock an experimental lick.
The resulting cry was amazing, and definitely worth the shocked glare John sent down to him. "Sherlock, bloody hell..." Oh John please, I've barely even started!" "It wasn't a compliment. Are you mental?" Sherlock merely shrugged, stroking once up and down and smirking as John's eyes flickered closed. "You don't seem to be doing too badly out of it." John just groaned again, he stumbled back to the wall and Sherlock took that as a silent sign to continue. Closing the fresh gap between them he gave another lick before closing his mouth around John's cock. John groaned again, raising a hand to his mouth in attempt to muffle some of the noise, a strangled moan escaping as Sherlock started to bob his head, stopping every other moment to twist his tongue around the head. John was soon slouched against the wall, chest heaving as he all but bit down on his hand in his lust. The other had moved to Sherlock's head, fingers tangled in the glorious curls as Sherlock's head moved up and down on his cock. Sherlock's hands were pressed against his hips, holding John still against the wall. John moaned again as Sherlock's tongue dragged along him, and dropped his hand to push at his head. Sherlock let go of John's cock, staring up at his face with his mouth wide open.
John could have come at the sight of it but closed his eyes for a second, shaking his head to clear the fuzz in his brain. "I can't...Sherlock we have to, fuck...we have to stop." "What is it, John?" "I can't hold myself up any longer." Sherlock smiled, forcing himself up off the floor and taking a hold of John's arms. He leant in for a kiss which was happily received, John all but melting into his arms as Sherlock pulled him up off the wall, turning with John in his arms and encouraging him to sit on the small stool he'd occupied earlier, ever mindful of the mess of clothing clinging to John's legs. John landed with a soft sigh, Sherlock once again dropping to his knees and pulling the jeans clean off so he could spread John's legs enough in their new position. He quickly shook them and messily folded them up before returning to John. He ran his hands along John's thighs as he stretched up for another kiss before settling back between his legs, giving John a smile before dropping his head and easily swallowing down John's cock as he hovered over him. John groaned, head falling back against the wall, vaguely aware of the mirror behind him. He had a sudden desperate hope that it wasn't one of those fake two way mirrors, or that there wasn't a camera stashed behind it, but figured that England hadn't got that creepy. Yet, anyway.
Sherlock had remembered the mirror ages ago, and had been slipping glances at it when he figured John was distracted. Their reflection was fascinating and Sherlock's eyes had been transfixed on John, the look on his face clearer in the reflection then what Sherlock had been able to see from his angle at his feet.
He allowed himself a rush of arousal at the memory before focusing on John now. John's panting breaths, his hand creeping back into his hair, his heavy cock on his tongue.
He increased his efforts on John as he felt his fingers grip his hair, giving a subtle push every time Sherlock pulled his head back. He took John in deep, holding for as long as he could stand it before pulling back, concentrating on the tip, taking turns to suck and lick at the head. John was rapidly becoming undone. He was slunk down low on the stool, looking utterly debauched with his head thrown back and legs spread obscenely around Sherlock. If Sherlock was being honest with himself, he wasn't faring much better, dropping a hand down he dug the heel into his crotch, sending a groan around John's cock that rumbled up and through the other man, an answering moan slipping from his lips.
"Sherlock..." Sherlock opened his eyes to stare up at John, and he groaned desperately at the sight, wide eyes staring up at him as Sherlock's mouth was still stretched around his cock. "Can't last. Not much longer." Sherlock pulled back, nodding before giving John's cock a hard suck, John almost sobbed as Sherlock let go of his hip and left his mouth slack, giving a meaningful stare up at John as he tried to still his hips. "Don't hold back, John." He murmured quietly, and John's last restraint broke, his head fell back to the wall with a thunk as his hips thrust freely, driving his cock up into Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock groaned in time with the thrusts, managing to hold himself just far enough away so John wouldn't accidentally choke him. He felt the start of John's release trickle out into his mouth, and braced himself as John's hand flew back to his own, teeth digging down hard into his skin as he came. Sherlock's hands returned to John's hips, holding him still as he sloppily swallowed his come, sucking gently to draw the last bits out as John panted heavily, mind fighting to regain itself against the blur of his comedown. Sherlock sat back on his heels, wiping his hand across his mouth and shuddering a little before taking in the sight before him. He smirked as John groggily lifted his head, glaring down at Sherlock before raising a hand to him. Sherlock tugged him upright on the stool, pulling his underwear back up to his knees and waiting for John to return them the rest of the way before trying to stand up.
Sherlock whined as his legs stretched out, his knee cracked and his joints throbbed with the promise of oncoming aches. John joined him shortly, rubbing at his eyes as he shuffled close to Sherlock. "I'm getting too old for this." Sherlock frowned at him as he shook his leg against the tremble of pins and needles he could feel forming there, "You are?" John grinned, pulling Sherlock close and kissing him firmly on the lips. He broke away to rest his head on Sherlock's chest, "Oh God, we've been ages, they're going to know exactly what we've been doing." Sherlock smirked, "Oh well. It's not like you shop here regularly, though their jeans are lovely." John lifted his head to raise an eyebrow to Sherlock, "...They probably have a website." John blinked once before shaking his head, laughing tiredly, Sherlock soon joined in and hooked an arm around John's shoulders, pulling him back in for a hug. "Come on, lets go home." "What about the jeans?" Sherlock paused, glancing down at them then back to John, "Oh I suppose I could treat you, feeling rather generous all of a sudden." He winked at John, grabbing the forgotten tee shirt off the rail on the wall before adding, "Give yourself two minutes, you look like you've just been shagged." John blushed, shoving Sherlock away with a grin that only grew as he slipped around the curtain, calling loudly to whoever he could find about how the garment was nowhere near what he needed, causing a distraction as John quickly pulled his trousers back on, returning the jeans to their hanger and pulling his clothes as right as they'd go in the mirror before exiting the booth, glad to see the assistant still busy with Sherlock. He brushed past him, motioning that he'd take the jeans before nodding to Sherlock and moving out into the shop. Sherlock changed tact completely, thanking the girl for her help as she passed their shopping back over and heading quickly after John. He caught up to him in the queue and smirked at the look on his face. "We are never doing this again." "Oh really? That's a shame, I have a feeling I could come to rather like shopping with you." John glanced up at him for a moment, before shaking his head again, "behave." He muttered, clearing his throat as he headed to the free till.
'Never.' Sherlock thought to himself, following happily behind.