spirit cold ➙ writings

keep it between friends.

Keep It Between Friends!

SUMMARY; In which, for once, Sherlock acts and John observes.

PROMPT; Holding hands "as an experiment."

PAIRING(S); Sherlock Holmes/John Watson.

TRIGGER WARNINGS; Teeth-rotting fluff.

NOTE(S); Title derived from "Drunk" by Ed Sheeran for no reason other than how it struck me as a fitting title. / this is my first johnlock one shot and you best bet i am equal parts terrified and exhilarated. they're so much fun to write for, and i hope you have just as much fun reading about them!

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"What are you doing?"

"Nothing. What does it look like I'm doing? Nothing."

John glanced down at his own hand. Which was abruptly, unexpectedly covered by another's hand. Sherlock's hand, to be exact. He blinked, quite a few times and rather rapidly, as if that would suddenly make sense of the situation. Much to his chagrin, it didn't. No, Sherlock was still holding his hand. No, it still made absolutely no sense at all. Good to know.

It had been an ordinary enough day. Lestrade had called them down to Scotland Yard with the promise of an exciting new case, exactly the type of case that Sherlock would regard as Christmas come early. However, upon arrival, Sherlock had quickly deduced that it was nowhere near as exciting as Lestrade promised, and honestly, couldn't Scotland Yard learn how to solve the simplest of cases?

Somehow he had figured out that the woman, found dead with no visible marks other than bruising near her ankles, was murdered by her overly friendly stepfather. Only from autopsy photos, one report from Molly Hooper, and a vague description of the family dynamic from Lestrade.

Which meant Sherlock was bored. Which led to experiments.

In the back of a cab.

With John's hand, apparently.

John glanced back to their hands. It was simple, really, nothing too clingy about the gesture. Only Sherlock's hand resting over his own. It shouldn't have sent him into such a spiral, probably wouldn't have if Sherlock was the type of accept human affection at all. He hated being touched. Everyone know this.

"Right. Uh." John cleared his throat. The longer he stared at their hands, the harder it was to speak. Coincidence, of course. "Right, well, it kind of looks like you're holding my hand."

Sherlock hummed. Neither a denial or an acknowledgement.

John frowned. There was no world in which Sherlock would hold John Watson's hand seeking affection or comfort. That wasn't the type of person he was; he didn't do things like that, like other people, not really. Which meant this had to be an experiment. Suddenly, John wondered if he had been unknowingly poisoned again and if Sherlock was only holding his hand to keep track of his pulse.

No. Ridiculous. Reckless and impulsive as he was, Sherlock wouldn't go that far.

Probably.

Hopefully.

"I was kind of, um, you know. Wondering about that."

"Wondering about what?" Sherlock was acting entirely too nonchalant, gazing out the blurring London scenery with vague interest. As if this was perfectly normal. As if they held hands in the back of a cab returning from a case everyday. It was more unsettling than the poison.