Sherlock | Crappy Fanfics

Garlic Kisses

"I love you."

Sherlock put down has wine glass and knitted his long fingers together, creating a hammock on which he rested his chin. His lack of reply should have annoyed John, but it didn't. Instead, the dancing twinkle currently shining in Sherlock's eye made him smirk, taking up his own glass and taking a sip.

"What?" He asked, egging Sherlock on.

"Prove it." Sherlock ordered, unable to contain his grin. John sighed heavily.

They were currently sitting at a table for two insides a large swank restaurant: the kind of place you'd go if you going to propose, or simply had enough money to dine in the finer establishments. In this case, Mycroft had booked the table for him and an unknown entity, but the rendezvous had fallen through so he offered the five month long reservation to his younger brother. John told him to see it as a 'solving the case treat'.

"How? We're in the middle of a restaurant, and we're already getting strange looks for laughing too loudly." John pointed out, remembering when Sherlock had complained to the waiter about the lack of children's colouring books - in a restaurant where children weren't allowed.

"Kiss me." Sherlock responded. Mischief shone through his smile, which made John frown.

"What's the catch?" He questioned with a scowl, eyebrows narrowing as he watched the detective lean back in his chair.

"Oh, no catch." He replied innocently, taking another swig of his wine. "I've just eaten a lot of garlic though, and I'm all out of gum."

John sighed heavily.

"So that's what it takes, is it? Anyone can prove their love to you by kissing you when your breath stinks? That's so fickle." He scorned in disbelief. Opposite him, Sherlock nodded quickly. "You're unbelievable..."

Leaning across the table, John pecked Sherlock gently on the lips, but Sherlock shook his head.

"Nope. I want a proper snog." He told John, pushing him away. John rolled his eyes.

"I'm not snogging you in the middle of a bloody restaurant."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

"I think you are."

--

Mycroft was just leaving the office when Anthea rushed up to him, heels clicking quickly on the floor as she made an attempt to reach him before he left the building.

"Sir," she called, slightly breathless. "It's Sherlock and John."

Mycroft turned around, scowling as she held out the screen of her phone for him to see.

The black and white video showed Sherlock, grinning like a maniac with hair full of spaghetti, laughing his head off as he flung olives across the restaurant at John.

On the other side of the room, John's face was smeared in gravy, suit covered in mashed potato and hands holding the largest chocolate cake Mycroft had ever set eyes on.

Mycroft groaned.

"Past events suggest that they'll be snogging one another within two minutes. The restaurant is being evacuated as we speak." Anthea told him.

I'm feeling silly okay?