[for the @calaisreno May Promptnation, which is turning out to be like NaNo but with way less stress]
(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) 10: choice (11) (12) (13)
Their lives have never been predictable. Which, in some ways, has made them very predictable, John thinks as he stops Sherlock in the hallway with a hand on the sleeve of his dressing gown. 'Hey,' he says, voice quiet. 'Come here.'
Sherlock raises an eyebrow, but doesn't hesitate to lean down and let John kiss him, thoroughly. Maybe even twice.
'Great, thanks,' John says roughly afterwards, backing away. 'I've got work now.'
He really should have known, from the start, that they'd have to steal moments for this out of the chaos they live in.
'Not your babysitter,' Mrs Hudson sings the next day as she holds Rosie's hands down the stairs. 'But I've got applesauce jelly with her name on it. And I'll change her nappy while I'm at it, won't I?' The last is said to Rosie, obviously, who is very focused on the stairs.
John, in turn, is focused somewhere else as well. 'We've got ten minutes,' he says, already out of his chair.
'Eight and a half,' Sherlock corrects, pulling John to him and capturing his mouth easily. John is tempted, so tempted, to let it go too far, but his prefrontal cortex is fully developed now, unlike the last time he felt this sort of heady gut-lust.
Maybe it's because Sherlock is a man, but he hasn't experienced a sense of newness this acute since being in school. And he'd thought, because he knows Sherlock in every other way it is possible to know a person, that this added dimension would feel--normal. Comfortingly similar. Would slot into their lives unnoticeably.
Decidedly not, John accepts some days and a solved case later, just before his backside hits the kitchen table. They've got a few more stolen moments while Rosie's napping on the sofa, and he's determined to make the most of them.
At Sherlock's urging, he lifts himself up onto the table's cluttered surface, then grabs at Sherlock's face to bring him back into the kiss. He spreads his knees without a thought and feels enveloped by heat as Sherlock moves further in between them. He fits around Sherlock perfectly, and it feels like--
It feels like lacing his fingers together with the other thumb in front, or crossing his arms with the other hand dominant. It feels like his own body still, yes, his skin heating up and his lungs pressing for air, but from a literal whole new perspective.
And he wants more of it. 'Do you think,' he murmurs in between kisses, 'that you'd want to be the one--' He pauses as Sherlock bites at his jaw. 'The one in charge?'
Sherlock pulls back enough to give him a look. 'Are you struggling through your English modesty to ask me if I'd like to top?'
John's neck flushes further, and he's pretty sure now it's both from arousal and embarrassment. Which is also new; he's said plenty more graphic things to women without hesitation, but apparently all bets are off when it comes to Sherlock. 'Yeah,' he says firmly. 'Yes.'
'I'd assumed you'd want to be the one doing that.'
'Wait, though-- you've done this before…?'
Sherlock's mouth quirks up. 'Subtle as always, John. Yes, I have. But not with you, do you understand? I want whatever you want. Quite literally.'
John swallows. 'And vice versa. I'm not new-- I mean, to the whole idea--'
'I'm very aware,' Sherlock retorts. And of course he is, aware of both John's various partners over the years and also of his, well, solo habits.
'Alright,' John says dryly. 'Rein it in, detective.' He sobers, hoping he doesn't have to go into detail. 'But this feels… different. And I want you to--to show me everything, to do everything you want.'
Sherlock, as he should have expected, takes this as a sort of delightful challenge. 'Well, then, we are at a bit of a stalemate, aren't we?'
John smirks, relief seeping through. 'Flip a coin?' he says, tightening his thighs, ready to dip back into Sherlock's mouth.
But Rosie, naturally, chooses that moment to wake up, and to do so loudly. She's almost got Sherlock's name down, and she definitely can yell for John like she's getting paid for it.
John groans and leans his forehead against Sherlock's momentarily, or at least intending for it to be momentary but shortly hearing the sound of his daughter shuffling into the kitchen, dragging her favourite garishly plaid blanket behind her.
'Perhaps we'll cut a deck of cards?' Sherlock suggests to him as they untangle.
Then the detective reaches down for Rosie, who is looking back and forth between them. 'Cards?' she repeats once she's in his arms, her tiny person pronunciation still simultaneously hilarious and brilliant.
'Yes,' Sherlock answers matter-of-factly. 'Your father and I are trying to decide…' He looks at John, a glint in his eye John shouldn't like at all. '...who gets to have the first ginger nut.'
John chokes on his tea, the sting going into his nostrils. 'Unfair,' he says.
His daughter seems interested, which is not surprising considering she shares Sherlock's predilection for the biscuit. 'Ginger nut!' she says. 'Me too?'
'Of course,' Sherlock says amenably. 'It's time for tea, anyhow.'
John tamps down a smile, then goes in for the assist, relieving Sherlock of Rosie so the detective can rummage around in the fridge. In their current arrangement, Sherlock is in charge of keeping edible and non-edible items separated. It's a dealbreaker, John had said when they'd moved back in. And Sherlock had complied without too much fuss, much to John's continued surprise.
Though, to be honest, he half expects Rosie would be delighted to find fingers in the crisper.
When everything's on the table and Rosie's in her booster seat, John digs in his pocket and pulls out a 50p coin, flipping it over to Sherlock without warning.
Sherlock catches it, regards it, then raises an eyebrow. 'I can rig this, you know.'
'Yes, but you won't, because my daughter is impressionable and worships you. And while you have many fine attributes, casual cheating is not one I'm interested in her inheriting.'
'Or, erm,' Sherlock starts, fingers casually playing with the coin. 'Any.' It's not a question, but suddenly he's looking intently at John, forehead wrinkled.
John's heart squeezes as he clocks what Sherlock's actually trying to get at. 'Sherlock. Bloody hell. Of course.' He inhales harshly. 'I know I'm not-- not exactly trustworthy any more, in that arena.'
But Sherlock cuts off his self-flagellation. 'Poppycock.'
'Beg pardon?'
Sherlock shakes his head. 'You were seduced by a person who could talk someone into murder with the snap of her fingers. She is literally the most brilliant manipulator in the world, and though I hold you in high regard you in no way had the capacity to overcome that.'
The anxiety slowly eases, though he suspects he'll never fully be free of it. 'You're admitting you're not the cleverest?'
He thinks Sherlock will counter in good humour, but instead he's a bit thoughtful. 'I think that, at that level, one is somewhere in the stratosphere, separated from everyone below. I find I rather like it down here.' He smiles crookedly, genuinely, at John. 'In certain company, at least.'
John's heart twinges. 'Well. That's.' He clears his throat. 'That's good. We rather like you down here. Most of the time.'
He breaks eye contact, instead looking at Rosie, who is happily getting banana all over her hands. He hopes the words will be sufficient. 'But I mean it.'
Sherlock's voice is quiet, fond and no-nonsense at the same time. 'I know. I know you, John Watson.'
John feels a smile slowly cross his face. 'Yeah, that's right, you'd catch me out instantly anyway. How I ended up with the one person I literally will not ever be able to keep a secret from, I've no idea. Birthdays and anniversaries are going to be very, very boring.'
Sherlock's smirk gives no doubt as to where his mind has immediately gone. 'Oh, I doubt that.'
John can tell his skin is starting to flush again. 'Speaking of… Coin flip is right out, so…?'
'Paper scissors stone?'
'No!'
'Why not?'
'Because you'd definitely cheat at that.'
'True. Magic 8 Ball?'
'You know what a Magic 8 Ball is?'
'Had a case where it was the murder weapon.'
'What? Really?'
'Yes.' Sherlock leans in, clearly ready to share the tale while assisting Rosie with her cheerios.
And John wants to remember this, this exact feeling of this exact moment, forever.
[❤️]
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