ShErLoCk oNeSiEs

"That's actually his name?" (Part 2)

Yo it's me again

Shoutout to AsterionLovesMoe for the comment on 'Don't Be Boring' - that was where I got the FAbULoUs name from :3

I did say I'd use the name ;) randomnerdybookworm

Alright carry on

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"GALADRIEL?" Sherlock flicked a tear from the side of his cornea. "That has to be the best one."

"I know," said John. Both of them were enjoying this far too much, poor Lestrade.

They relapsed into silence. It was only then that both of them seemed to acknowledge Sherlock still snugly nestled on John's shoulder.

John was suddenly very aware of the steady breaths against his cheek. Steady breaths, unlike his own. This was a paradox, a dilemma. He wanted to move because come on, John, you're not gay, but he felt like one shift would tip this moment, like it was suspended in hardened amber.

Sherlock wondered whether it was normal for the heart to thunder at precisely three times its regular rate. Which it was. He was so sure John could hear it smashing its way out of his ribcage. He felt John tense up beneath him. He's uncomfortable, unused to physical contact with you, and very, very, straight.

Then why were John's breaths as erratic as his own pulse?

"John?" It was so soft, John couldn't have heard it unless Sherlock said it right next to his ear. Which he did.

"Yeah?" John's voice didn't go beyond a whisper, either.

"We are not letting Lestrade forget this."

"His name is Greg. Say it."

"What? Why?"

"Sherlock."

John's poor heart fluttered as Sherlock sighed. "Fine. Greg."

A minute.

Then-

"Sherlock?"

"Mm?"

"Not complaining or anything, but is there a particular reason for you smiling with your eyes closed?"

Sherlock's eyes shot open, to meet...his own eyes. John had switched on the front camera of the laptop, which meant he could see Sherlock's face.

And it was a little bit red at the moment.

Two mildly pixelated pairs of eyes fixated on each other through the screen. Even though it wasn't a crazy moment of fireworks and such, it seemed insanely intimate to both of them.

A chime pierced the air.

"Pass my phone, would you?" said Sherlock softly, not taking his eyes off of the screen.

John nodded, his hand creeping towards a nearby side table with Sherlock's phone. His eyes never left the screen, either.

Still not gay, John?

The world dissolved except for the two of them. It was like nothing else even existed except them, the armchair and the stupid phone.

John moved to hand the phone to Sherlock, but the detective had other plans - the phone stayed in John's hand. Tingles shot up his arm as Sherlock held his palm against the back of John's hand, holding the phone as well. Both of their gazes were yanked from the laptop to the phone.

Message from: Graham Lestrade

Hey, we've got something for you two. Mind coming down to the Yard? Could be good. Three apparent suicides, all girls, but here's the thing. All bald, all green-eyed.

I knew you'd be interested.

Sherlock couldn't help the smile the contorted his sharp features into elation. It did interest him.

In fact, the text, combined with the situation with John, emboldened Sherlock (or clouded his mind) with some unseen encouragement. Not moving his head, he quickly snaked his arms around John, so he was hugging his blogger from behind. It could have been his imagination, but he could have sworn he felt John sink into the embrace.

Sherlock reached over and shut the laptop, brushed his lips over John's cheekbone and withdrew from behind him, striding briskly towards the door with his coat half around his shoulders. It wasn't until his scarf was around his neck that Sherlock turned around.

John's eyes sparkled.

Sherlock's pulse fluttered, and a thousand words describing John Watson tumbled into his head.

Perfect.

Sherlock threw a lopsided smile at John. "Coming?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Oh, you wouldn't miss this for the world," said Sherlock, handing John his coat. His fingers just brushed the tips of John's fingers. And he loved the sensation of senseless electricity through his veins.

Then a hand was in Sherlock's curls, and he was against the door, and the same fingertips he had brushed earlier were pressed against his side, and all he could see were John's beautiful blue orbs, looking at him like he was the most beautiful thing in the world.

John brushed his lips against Sherlock's. Softly, just one time.

"Of course I wouldn't miss it, you twat," said John, mumbling into Sherlock. "I would lose my mind entirely if I missed Greg's reaction to you referring to him as 'Galadriel' at a crime scene."

And with that, John Watson stepped out of the flat.

Sherlock, a little dazed and slightly high on emotion, soon followed.

His name is Greg.

Sherlock shook his head and quietly laughed to himself as he shut the door to 221B behind him.

~~~

YEE DONE :)

I hope you liked that, I loved writing it. :*

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