Work Text:
"Bugger..."
It was like living with an over sized child. His (Johns) parents were visiting in a few hours and so John had decided to cook. He had been bustling with pots, pans and various utensils since the early hours of the morning, he'd originally been slightly worried about waking up his flatmate, but as usual he had found him pacing the corridor muttering about the newest case which had been flung at him by Lestrade. Apparently it would of been an easy case, except for the issue of his prime suspect chucking himself of a nearby bridge into the freezing sea... John assumed it was nearing midday, the dull London sky was slightly lightened by the pathetic sun trying as hard as it could to brightened the cloud covered sky. He'd ask Sherlock the exact time (and when he said exact he would receive the seconds and perhaps the milliseconds if Sherlock could be bothered to pause his watch...) but his flat mate had just flung the entire content of the table he had been working on onto the floor! "What the hell Sherlock?!" he stared at the bowls and various containers that were sprawled all over the small kitchen's floor. Luckily he had put the lid on most things, but a few of the jars had smashed, sending mysterious concoctions all over the tiles. He glanced at his roommate but was stared back at by a pair of bright green eyes, he quickly dismissed the slightly confused look he was being sent and looked down at his jumper... "Urg!"
Sherlock stared at the large pool of red sauce which had flung itself at the doctors jumper. He suddenly felt incredibly shy and sheepish, almost bad, poor John had been working all morning on whatever it was he was making. He pulled the large box off the table, stupid box. Stupid experiment. it was the box that had pushed everything off the table, he hadn't realised the box was as large as it was, so when he slid it onto the surface everything just went crashing off the end. He needed to test the gradual decomposition of an animal carcass in various formulas, but that was the last thing on his mind at this current moment... Sherlock was mesmerized by John. His short but muscular limbs had gripped the bottom of his jumper and he was tugging it off his head. A small strip of pale white skin becoming visible as the doctor pulled at his jumper, standing out amongst the dark brown leather belt around John waist, Sherlock suddenly wanted nothing more than to spill some more sauce over those trousers, to see Johns well-built legs stepping out of the pale fabric. His lips became very dry all of a sudden,he licked them imagining himself running his tongue over his flatmates bare chest, planting kisses on every part of flesh he could see, Johns neck snapping back as the consulting detectives fingers danced on his belt buckle, before delving into the tight fabric that... "Sherlock!" he was stopped mid-thought, perhaps that was for the best "Sherlock?" he glanced at this flatmate, and a smile played on his lips. The doctor had his head stuck in a jumper... "You better not be smiling Mr.. Holmes! Can you help? Please?" the smile on the detectives face grew, but he strode over to his struggling friend.
Sherlocks long spindly fingers reached out to grab the jumper which was wrapping itself further around the doctors head, but he stop mere inches away. His hands retracted slowly and he lightly placed a thumb onto John chest, moving it in slow circles. He expected John to flinch away, but the doctor stayed put, his breathing becoming shallow and fast... Sherlock stopped himself, moved his hands to Johns head and pulled the jumper from his head. He was greeted by Johns slightly flushed face, whether it was because of the entrapment or sherlocks actions he wasn't sure... but before he had time to work it out he was pulled forward, his mind raced at a thousand miles an hour, but within seconds his brain had shut down. Their lips had collided, setting little fireworks off inside of his brain. John short but muscular hand gripped his neck, pushing them ever futher into one another, it took a moment but Sherlocks mind slowly awakened, he spun his flatmate so the doctors back was against the table, and kissed him with a greater force. A moan escaped Johns lips and Sherlock took the oppurtunity to force his tongue into his mouth, investigating every inch of Johns mouth. Sherlock has dreamt of this moment so many times and he was not going to miss it. He pushed will all of his might, sending the small man onto the table, bottles and jars once again flying off the table. sherlock climbed onto the table, placing his knees either side of the doctors hips, leaning down and kissing along Johns neck and collar.
Johns hands were playing with Sherlocks belt, desperately trying to rip the clothing off of his slender frame, their minds racing forward in time envisioning their position in a few hours... a tangle of limbs, attached by sweet sweat and a simple need for one another, dreaming of what they could do to one another, knowing that all along it wasn't just them. Sherlock planted kisses along Johns now bare chest, his buttons had been flung to various corners of the room a few moments ago, he sucked at the flesh leaving small bruises all over the skin, each and every one its own version of the word 'Mine...' Sherlock reached for Johns belt, a thousand ideas flooding his head, his arousal painted on not only his face but inside of his trousers...
"Ding Dong..."
"You're parents..." "Flip..."