John collapses onto Sherlock’s heaving chest. Their hearts are racing in unison and together they try to catch their breath.
Sherlock is still semi-conscious. He keeps making little huffy sounds of exhaust and relief, which John is sure he is not aware of. John shifts reluctantly and grabs a random item of clothing (Sherlock’s pants?) to clean them up a bit before the wetness between them can grow uncomfortable. He kisses Sherlock’s cheek, strokes his sides soothingly, murmurs sweet nothings into his ear until Sherlock seems to come back to himself. John rolls off him, props up on one elbow and watches him open his eyes.
“Hello there. Back among the living?”
“John.” Sherlock says. It doesn’t seem to be the word that was supposed to come out. He frowns and squints in annoyance. John laughs fondly.
“As long as you’re still looking for your standard vocabulary in some broom closet of your mind palace” - he tips a finger against Sherlock’ temple - “I can at least enjoy the peace and quiet a bit longer.”
Sherlock eyes him questioningly. John looks extremely pleased with himself.
“Oh, don't look at me like that. You were particularly insufferable today, love. It’s so bloody nice to know that there’s something that can silence you for a bit. You have an off-switch.”
A crinkle appears between Sherlock’s eyebrows. He closes his eyes, opens them again, takes several deep breaths and clears his throat. “You.” he rasps. “At the crime scene.”
“Yes, Sherlock, I was at the crime scene.” John has the guts to sound amused. Sherlock is having none of it.
“At the crime scene. You. Wanted me to stop talking.”
“Yeah. ‘Course. I mean, I seduced you and everything.” John giggles. “Everyone needs a break once in a while.”
“So, in fact” Sherlock concludes “you have sex with me to shut me up.”
“No, love, not usually, but today it might have been part of the…”
The look Sherlock gives him is absolutely deadpan. “You have taken advantage of my temporary verbal incompetence.”
John sighs exasperatedly. “Oh come on. That’s not what…”
“John, I was under the impression that we were leading something that could possibly be defined as a romantic relationship in which sexual intercourse is not merely considered a means to an end. Apparently, I was wrong. This should come as a surprise, and frankly, it does, since my mind is far superior to yours and, up to this point, my perception of this relationship deemed me plausible as well as agreeable for both parties.”
John sighs once more. Alright. Sherlock has just deduced his way through John’s motivations to sleep with him in a state of post-coital oversensitivity and John has fucked up royally.
FILL: In Nomine (part 6)
Sherlock is still semi-conscious. He keeps making little huffy sounds of exhaust and relief, which John is sure he is not aware of. John shifts reluctantly and grabs a random item of clothing (Sherlock’s pants?) to clean them up a bit before the wetness between them can grow uncomfortable. He kisses Sherlock’s cheek, strokes his sides soothingly, murmurs sweet nothings into his ear until Sherlock seems to come back to himself. John rolls off him, props up on one elbow and watches him open his eyes.
“Hello there. Back among the living?”
“John.” Sherlock says. It doesn’t seem to be the word that was supposed to come out. He frowns and squints in annoyance. John laughs fondly.
“As long as you’re still looking for your standard vocabulary in some broom closet of your mind palace” - he tips a finger against Sherlock’ temple - “I can at least enjoy the peace and quiet a bit longer.”
Sherlock eyes him questioningly. John looks extremely pleased with himself.
“Oh, don't look at me like that. You were particularly insufferable today, love. It’s so bloody nice to know that there’s something that can silence you for a bit. You have an off-switch.”
A crinkle appears between Sherlock’s eyebrows. He closes his eyes, opens them again, takes several deep breaths and clears his throat. “You.” he rasps. “At the crime scene.”
“Yes, Sherlock, I was at the crime scene.” John has the guts to sound amused. Sherlock is having none of it.
“At the crime scene. You. Wanted me to stop talking.”
“Yeah. ‘Course. I mean, I seduced you and everything.” John giggles. “Everyone needs a break once in a while.”
“So, in fact” Sherlock concludes “you have sex with me to shut me up.”
“No, love, not usually, but today it might have been part of the…”
The look Sherlock gives him is absolutely deadpan. “You have taken advantage of my temporary verbal incompetence.”
John sighs exasperatedly. “Oh come on. That’s not what…”
“John, I was under the impression that we were leading something that could possibly be defined as a romantic relationship in which sexual intercourse is not merely considered a means to an end. Apparently, I was wrong. This should come as a surprise, and frankly, it does, since my mind is far superior to yours and, up to this point, my perception of this relationship deemed me plausible as well as agreeable for both parties.”
John sighs once more. Alright. Sherlock has just deduced his way through John’s motivations to sleep with him in a state of post-coital oversensitivity and John has fucked up royally.