Quiet night in
Aug. 26th, 2010 02:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bookish_dragonTitle: Quiet night in
Fandom: BBC-Sherlock
Pairing/characters: John Watson/Sherlock Holmes, DI Lestrade, Sally Donovan.
Rating: PG.
Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes is owned by Arthur Conan Doyle, various movie-companies, and in this incarnation, by Moffat and Gatiss and the BBC.
Notes: For this prompt at sherlockbbc_fic: Lestrade and Anderson and Donovan barge into 221B, accidentally walking in on Sherlock and John, who are... cuddling. On the couch. Either asleep or watching telly.
Because, honestly? Cuddly!Sherlock would probably be a hell of a lot stranger to witness than havingsex!Sherlock.
Cue amusing reactions from Lestrade and Co.
But it didn't really go there.
Summary: There's no such thing as peace for Sherlock and John.
They're on the couch watching telly when they hear footsteps on the stairs. “Lestrade,” Sherlock says, not lifting his head from its place on the armrest. “Donovan. New shoes, going by her walk. She's still breaking them in.”
“Hmn. Wonder what they want now,” John says. Most of his attention is on the Columbo-rerun, one of the few shows Sherlock can't spoil. He's slouching against Sherlock, who has his arms around John's waist. John doesn't want to see the Yard right now; he's much too comfortable. One of his legs is trapped between Sherlock's.
“Sherlock,” Lestrade says as he and Donovan walk into the room. He doesn't knock. He used to, the first few weeks after John'd moved in, but has relapsed quickly. It's an annoying habit. He falls silent. Donovan doesn't say anything either. If he concentrates, John could feel their staring.
“Yes, Lestrade?” Sherlock says. “We don't have all night.” He doesn't move.
“Yes, well,” Lestrade says. John can hear him shifting from one foot to the other. Sherlock sits up straighter. John harrumphs at having to shift himself, and they spend a moment redoing the embrace.
“Keep it down,” he says. “I'm watching this. Any idea how many shows I can't watch with our resident genius present?”
Donovan sniggers at that. It's the first sound she's made since entering the flat.
“Sorry,” Lestrade says. “Sherlock, we need your help.”
“As usual. Pass the popcorn.”
Donovan says, “Maybe we should take a picture of this. They'd never believe us otherwise.”
“You think they would even with photos?” Lestrade says.
The arms around him tighten a bit. John responds by moving closer, trapping Sherlock between the back of the couch and himself. “Sherlock,” he says, “you can reach it yourself, you lazy git. And no pictures.”
“I could, but we've only just reached our current state of equilibrium,” Sherlock says. “Besides, they barged in on us. They might as well make it up to us.”
“What he means is we had a long day,” John says. He sighs, giving up hope of being allowed to watch the telly in relative peace. He looks at Lestrade and Donovan.
“Yeah, I heard about today's missing body-parts,” Donovan says. Lestrade looks at her. “What?” she says. “Molly and I do coffee.”
“Anyway, Sherlock,” Lestrade says, pinching the bridge of his nose. It's been a long day for him as well, John can tell. 'Still no reason to disturb us like this.'
“Not me,” Sherlock says to Donovan. “I wasn't near Barts all day. Or any other place where parts are available.” Her eyes widen.
“Hang on,” John says. “How did you get in? I didn't hear Mrs Hudson.” Lestrade and Donovan exchange guilty looks, and avoid looking at Sherlock. John does look at Sherlock, who's giving his attention to Columbo. The realisation doesn't take long. “You. Did. Not. Give. Them. Their. Own. Key,” he says.
“Of course I didn't,” Sherlock says. “I gave one to Lestrade. Much easier what with all the drugs-busts.”
John sits up straight. Sherlock very nearly pouts at this. “You what? You git.” He rubs his face. “At the very least you could have told me.”
Sherlock blinks. Donovan and Lestrade are still looking at anything but the men on the couch. “I didn't think you'd mind,” he says, finally.
“I would like to keep what little privacy my life has left, thanks,” John says, as much to Sherlock as to Lestrade and Donovan, who at least have the decency to look embarrassed. Sherlock just looks puzzled.
“Sorry,” Lestrade offers. “I should have realised.” He takes out the key, puts it on the table.
The move makes John relent a little, which makes Sherlock confident enough to manoeuvre him back into the previous position. He should have realised. Being around Sherlock is bad for your own sense of propriety, and John finds he can't blame Lestrade for taking the key. He does blame him and Donovan for ruining their night in. And Sherlock for giving away the key in the first place.
“But if you didn't take those parts, then who did?” Donovan asks. She's squinting at them.
“Go and find out,” Sherlock says. “You don't need my help for that, surely.” His hand is in John's hair. “I'd look at the new hire. He seems too enthusiastic about his work.” He turns his head and John can feel his gaze on him.
“Yes, but-,” Lestrade says.
“Your case can wait,” John says. “If it was important, you wouldn't have been distracted by us. Come back tomorrow.”
At that, Lestrade and Donovan leave. No word of goodbye, but that's fine. Sherlock presses a kiss into John's hair. Maybe the night can be salvaged after all, John thinks, as he laces his hand with Sherlock's.
“Mind, we're still going to have a discussion about privacy.”
Fandom: BBC-Sherlock
Pairing/characters: John Watson/Sherlock Holmes, DI Lestrade, Sally Donovan.
Rating: PG.
Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes is owned by Arthur Conan Doyle, various movie-companies, and in this incarnation, by Moffat and Gatiss and the BBC.
Notes: For this prompt at sherlockbbc_fic: Lestrade and Anderson and Donovan barge into 221B, accidentally walking in on Sherlock and John, who are... cuddling. On the couch. Either asleep or watching telly.
Because, honestly? Cuddly!Sherlock would probably be a hell of a lot stranger to witness than havingsex!Sherlock.
Cue amusing reactions from Lestrade and Co.
But it didn't really go there.
Summary: There's no such thing as peace for Sherlock and John.
They're on the couch watching telly when they hear footsteps on the stairs. “Lestrade,” Sherlock says, not lifting his head from its place on the armrest. “Donovan. New shoes, going by her walk. She's still breaking them in.”
“Hmn. Wonder what they want now,” John says. Most of his attention is on the Columbo-rerun, one of the few shows Sherlock can't spoil. He's slouching against Sherlock, who has his arms around John's waist. John doesn't want to see the Yard right now; he's much too comfortable. One of his legs is trapped between Sherlock's.
“Sherlock,” Lestrade says as he and Donovan walk into the room. He doesn't knock. He used to, the first few weeks after John'd moved in, but has relapsed quickly. It's an annoying habit. He falls silent. Donovan doesn't say anything either. If he concentrates, John could feel their staring.
“Yes, Lestrade?” Sherlock says. “We don't have all night.” He doesn't move.
“Yes, well,” Lestrade says. John can hear him shifting from one foot to the other. Sherlock sits up straighter. John harrumphs at having to shift himself, and they spend a moment redoing the embrace.
“Keep it down,” he says. “I'm watching this. Any idea how many shows I can't watch with our resident genius present?”
Donovan sniggers at that. It's the first sound she's made since entering the flat.
“Sorry,” Lestrade says. “Sherlock, we need your help.”
“As usual. Pass the popcorn.”
Donovan says, “Maybe we should take a picture of this. They'd never believe us otherwise.”
“You think they would even with photos?” Lestrade says.
The arms around him tighten a bit. John responds by moving closer, trapping Sherlock between the back of the couch and himself. “Sherlock,” he says, “you can reach it yourself, you lazy git. And no pictures.”
“I could, but we've only just reached our current state of equilibrium,” Sherlock says. “Besides, they barged in on us. They might as well make it up to us.”
“What he means is we had a long day,” John says. He sighs, giving up hope of being allowed to watch the telly in relative peace. He looks at Lestrade and Donovan.
“Yeah, I heard about today's missing body-parts,” Donovan says. Lestrade looks at her. “What?” she says. “Molly and I do coffee.”
“Anyway, Sherlock,” Lestrade says, pinching the bridge of his nose. It's been a long day for him as well, John can tell. 'Still no reason to disturb us like this.'
“Not me,” Sherlock says to Donovan. “I wasn't near Barts all day. Or any other place where parts are available.” Her eyes widen.
“Hang on,” John says. “How did you get in? I didn't hear Mrs Hudson.” Lestrade and Donovan exchange guilty looks, and avoid looking at Sherlock. John does look at Sherlock, who's giving his attention to Columbo. The realisation doesn't take long. “You. Did. Not. Give. Them. Their. Own. Key,” he says.
“Of course I didn't,” Sherlock says. “I gave one to Lestrade. Much easier what with all the drugs-busts.”
John sits up straight. Sherlock very nearly pouts at this. “You what? You git.” He rubs his face. “At the very least you could have told me.”
Sherlock blinks. Donovan and Lestrade are still looking at anything but the men on the couch. “I didn't think you'd mind,” he says, finally.
“I would like to keep what little privacy my life has left, thanks,” John says, as much to Sherlock as to Lestrade and Donovan, who at least have the decency to look embarrassed. Sherlock just looks puzzled.
“Sorry,” Lestrade offers. “I should have realised.” He takes out the key, puts it on the table.
The move makes John relent a little, which makes Sherlock confident enough to manoeuvre him back into the previous position. He should have realised. Being around Sherlock is bad for your own sense of propriety, and John finds he can't blame Lestrade for taking the key. He does blame him and Donovan for ruining their night in. And Sherlock for giving away the key in the first place.
“But if you didn't take those parts, then who did?” Donovan asks. She's squinting at them.
“Go and find out,” Sherlock says. “You don't need my help for that, surely.” His hand is in John's hair. “I'd look at the new hire. He seems too enthusiastic about his work.” He turns his head and John can feel his gaze on him.
“Yes, but-,” Lestrade says.
“Your case can wait,” John says. “If it was important, you wouldn't have been distracted by us. Come back tomorrow.”
At that, Lestrade and Donovan leave. No word of goodbye, but that's fine. Sherlock presses a kiss into John's hair. Maybe the night can be salvaged after all, John thinks, as he laces his hand with Sherlock's.
“Mind, we're still going to have a discussion about privacy.”
