Open and Shut

"So which one?"

John placed a small box next to his reclining lover, crawled back onto the bed beside him. "I was thinking smell."

"Good. I'm ready."

John ran a thumb over Sherlock's eyes. "Now keep them shut."

"Of course. That's the point."

The point—and it'd been John's idea—was for them to while away a case-free day putting a Sherlock sense other than sight through its paces.

"Still ready."

"Hang on." Vague sounds, then something bumping against the box. "Here's the first."

"Talcum powder."

"That was quick."

"Too easy."

"Take it easy."

"You have to make it har—"

Sherlock shut up, sniffed. Exhaled sharply, sniffed again. "One of those lemony boiled sweets you like."

John ran a finger down Sherlock's nose. "Next one's harder."

"Promises, promises."

A hefty pinch. A baritone grumble. Then: "How about this?"

Sherlock sniffed once. Twice. "Sharp. Medicinal." He opened his mouth, breathed in deep. "Oh! Aspirin." Murmured approval. "Excellent."

"Told you this'd be interesting." Another rustle. "This one's tougher."

Sherlock took a deep breath. Probed the air with his tongue. Waved his hands to waft the scent.

"It's…" He sucked a breath through his teeth, as if tasting fine wine. "…vaguely plastic." More tongue. More wafting. More sucking. "Your new laptop cover?"

John clucked. "That'd be cheating. It's medical tape. Things you'd find on or in the human body, remember?"

Sherlock muttered. The mattress dipped. Long seconds passed. Then the air right in front of his face moved.

Sherlock sniffed slow. More slowly the second time. Slower still the third. Then he exhaled, his breath pooling warm against his own face.

"Me," he whispered.

He reached blindly, found John's hand hovering in front of him, pressed the slick palm over his own mouth and nose, breathed in and in and in. "It's me. On you."

John stretched out beside him and Sherlock snaked his free hand between his lover's legs. "S'cheating," he murmured. "Not going to find me on or in any one but…" He snaked further, back to where John was still wet. "…you."

Eyes closed Sherlock wriggled down John's body, nuzzling-sniffing-smelling along the way.

And before long they were both breathing fast and deep.

At first I wanted to write an ode to Sherlock's beauty because would you just look at Asandalinbelgravia's artwork (Google: asandalinbelgravia 47114052527)? Then I wondered…why does Sherlock have his eyes closed? Thank you for your gorgeous work, Asandalinbelgravia!