substituteskull | Entries tagged with p: sherlock(not

"It's just for the week." Sherlock has been following John around for the last few hours. "Telford's hardly that far away." He pauses, refolding a jumper. "Not that it means you're entitled to ring when you misplace something either." He moves down the stairs, bag in hand and beckons Sherlock to follow him into the kitchen. With a grunt, John tugs open the refrigerator. "Milk and eggs are fresh. Mrs. Hudson's casserole from last night is in the blue container and there's some left over Chinese in that orange one."

John slams the door shut and tilts his head up to Sherlock. It's like he's giving last minute instructions to a sitter or an older child, home alone for the first time.

John's been away for much longer before, but generally that's due to his work schedule or the few weekends Sarah's gotten him to go out to a few bed and breakfasts in the countryside. Sherlock's trips can last a week or more. And yet, there's something rather finite about this parting. John's going to meet Sarah's parents. About time, really, the wedding's in six months.

He sighs after a moment and then grins up at Sherlock.

"Don't text me. I'll be too jealous of your cases."

"Soldier's Heart, Science's Brain"
Who: John and Sherlock
What: Sherlock and John have been summoned to dinner with Mummy and Mycroft.

John's not so sure about this. He looks...well. He's not sure how he looks. Though being a vet entitles him to wearing a dress uniform in place of a suit, John has locked that away with the cane. They are reminders of things he is not. In the case of the cane, something he never wants to be again. The uniform, though, is something else entirely. It represents a longing inside of him to do something more. To be something great again.

So standing in front of the mirror right now in a gray suit that has been masterfully tailored to him, John's mind is on sand and gun fire and the stuff of nightmares that he misses.... God, he misses it.

Sherlock's shadow across the door gives John pause and the former army doctor moves towards the threshold to see what the other man is up to. Sherlock is, as always, impeccable. He cleans up so well. Makeup hides his bruises. His hair has been neatly finger curled. The suit is beyond perfect against his frame.

John leans against the wood, watching him. Waiting for him to notice. Sherlock notices everything, all the time, no matter where they are of what they're doing. John's eyes on him will be picked up in a moment. John smiles when Sherlock's eyes touch his own in a heated, irrationally intimate moment that steals his breath for a moment. It's all he's needed to get the thought of war from his head. Well, that and seeing what Sherlock has in his hands.

"What?! No experiments now!"

"L'amour Est Un Oiseau Rebelle"
Who: John and Sherlock
What: Sherlock has received two tickets to the Opera by a mysterious benefactor.

John relabels the tea cups because the originals have either worn off through washing (possible) or because Sherlock's rubbed them off (likely). He doesn't mind doing this if it means that he won't find something horrible residing in the bottom when he had his cuppa in the afternoons on the weekend or when he gets in from the surgery after a long day of treating nasal congestion and stomach flu.

The packaging material that the tickets arrived in is still scattered on the table and John makes no attempt to move it in case his flatmate deems it worthy of further study. John Watson is a neat man by nature, life long study as a doctor and his assumed career as a military surgeon instilled in him a great desire to be orderly. That's not always possible when living with Sherlock Holmes, so John has learned to pick his battles.

The packaging stays, but so too does the labels that this particular row of mugs are for dining purposes only. 'Not For Experiments' he writes clearly four times over and sets the cups aside.

Sherlock is getting ready for their engagement that evening at the London Royal Opera. Why it's taking two hours, John has no idea. The other man is like a house cat -- a grumpy one at that. He stays perfectly, impeccably clean even if he shreds papers and marks unpaid bills with a jack knife on the mantle.

"Sherlock!" he finally calls, getting impatient in his tuxedo, bow-tie too tight around his neck. "Are we going tonight or not?!"

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John Watson

Doctor. Blogger. Substitute Skull.

Entries tagged with p: sherlock(not_fine)

For not_fine

Soldier's Heart, Science's Brain - for not_fine

L'amour Est Un Oiseau Rebelle - for not_fine

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January 2014

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