Fic: 5+1 'Sherlock's illegal actions'

[anarion]

I always wanted to try writing a 5+1, but I never knew about what. Then during one of our email exchanges verityburns was deeply amused by my email subject 'illegal actions, killing of birds and shocking confession' and came up with this wonderful prompt! Thank you! ♥♥♥
Surprisingly enough, it's not crack. Hu!



Title: 5+1 'Sherlock's illegal actions'
Words: 5498
Raiting: PG
Warnings: death of small animals, drug usage
Pairings : Sherlock/John
Beta: the diet version of verityburns *lol*
Disclaimer: Sadly the characters are not mine and no money is made (that would be sooo cool!).

Summary: Five times Sherlock's illegal actions resulted in the death of a small animal and produced a shocking confession, and one time the creature survived but John admitted he wanted to shag him anyway...







5+1


You can read the Chinese version here


1.

“Sherlock, seriously, we cannot just break into that flat!”

John knew he was wasting his breath but someone had to be the voice of reason here. Nonetheless he kept watch while Sherlock picked at the lock of the balcony door which they had reached by climbing on a huge dustbin.

A few seconds later there was a soft clicking sound and the door swung open. Sherlock got up and was about to walk into the flat, when John caught his sleeve.
“Careful.” He pulled out the gun from his waistband and peeked around the corner.

“John. While this whole hero act might be really impressive I can assure you it is not necessary here. There is no one in the flat.”

John just looked at Sherlock until he shrugged and motioned for John to go on.

John carefully entered the first room behind the door, the kitchen. There was a huge snake lying on the counter. John blinked. “I think we might need animal control in here...”

He went on into the living room, which was filled with three enormous terrariums and a number of smaller ones. The curtains were drawn therefore the room was rather dark and John could not see what exactly lived in them. Sherlock followed him in and gestured towards another door. “Check the bedroom, I need access.”

John crossed the room and opened the door after a short glance back at Sherlock who was busy looking into one of the terraria. He smelled it at once and after a quick search of the room from the doorway he called to Sherlock. “I found our suspect. She is dead.”

“Fantastic. Call Lestrade.”

“Oh no. You go on and call Lestrade. You can tell him that we found a dead body yourself. Oh and while you’re at it, you can explain why we had to break into the flat in the first place.”

Sherlock huffed, but did as John had suggested. John was about to close the door when he saw some movement in the corner of the living room. He went to investigate, crouched down and found himself eye to eye with an iguana.

“Tell Lestrade that we really need animal control, a few of her pets seem to be on the loose. I just hope she had nothing dangerous or poisonous in here...”

He went over to look at Sherlock who had made his way into the bedroom and was bent over the body. John knew better than to follow him inside. Anderson would kill him if he did.

“She hasn’t been dead long. Something chewed at her though. Killed with a blunt object. Why would he...” He trailed off, gaze searching for something, then he jumped up and went over to her chest of drawers.

John heard the police cars approaching and went to let them in. There was a bit of a commotion after this when Anderson and his team tried to get Sherlock out of the bedroom while Lestrade was busy shouting at him and asking why on earth he had to break into the flat.

In the end Lestrade pulled Sherlock from the room and Anderson slammed the door shut. He yelled some more but was stunned silent when Sherlock calmly admitted that he was right. John of course saw the little twitch around the corners of his mouth in the carefully arranged face. He was lying to shut Lestrade up, maybe following John’s advice that he needed to work on a smooth cooperation if he didn’t want to be excluded sooner or later.

Lestrade seemed to shrink like a balloon with a hole in it now that his anger was robbed of its target. He sighed and swept his hand over his face.
“Ok. Just, please don’t do something like that ever again. I cannot continue to look away from all your illegal activities.”

“Even if it helps you solve the case?”

“Sherlock...” John jumped in. Sherlock pressed his lips together.

Suddenly there was a loud shriek and a bang on the bedroom door. The three men looked at each other, at the door and back at each other before all of them strode to the door. Sherlock arrived there first and yanked it open. At his feet lay a dead iguana.

Anderson was standing in the middle of the room, looking hysterical. “It dropped on me! From the fucking ceiling! It just dropped on my head!”
He stared at them wide eyed and panting.

“Anderson...?” Lestrade sounded a little lost at what to do or say.

John’s inner doctor raised a hand and John stepped over to the man and urged him to leave the room and sit down in the living room. Lestrade and Sherlock followed, the first man looking confused, the second amused.

“What happened in there?”

Anderson looked at his superior. “It dropped on my head from the ceiling. I grabbed it and threw it at the door. I... um, I have a phobia of reptiles.”

“You don’t say.” That was Lestrade.

Sherlock made a small unrecognisable sound, turned on his heels and left the flat. Anderson flinched, because he probably thought that Sherlock would never let him live this one down.

John looked at him and decided to set his mind to rest. “Don’t worry, his head was somewhere else altogether. He is presumably already following a lead on the murderer. Are you ok?”

Anderson just nodded, pulled himself together and went back to work. Lestrade and John looked at each other and shrugged.

“I’m going to go after Sherlock. I will try to make him report to you as soon as he finds something.”

John left the flat as well, passing the people from animal control who were trying to get the huge snake to fit into the container, and went down the stairs.

Contrary to his expectations Sherlock had not left. He was leaning on the wall waiting for John. In the second their eyes met and he saw the laughter sparkle in the other man’s eyes, John’s doctor mode went off. Both men started to laugh until they were leaning against the wall side by side, completely out of breath.



AN: I leave it to you to decide if the shocking confession was Anderson’s fear of reptiles (not for this fandom anyway, can I just say ‘dinosaur’?) or Sherlock admitting Lestrade was right. ;-)


---------------------------


2.

It was a beautiful spring day. John and Mary slowly walked over the lawn of the garden belonging to a picturesque little cottage in Lavenham. The owner of the cottage, an older man, walked beside them talking.

“It’s a wonderful place for a couple that is about to start a family. And our last doctor died this year, his surgery has not been reopened yet. You would fit in perfectly Doctor Watson.”

“Yes, it’s a very nice place.” John sighed inwardly. That was not how he thought his date with Mary would go. He had planned a day in Hyde Park, with a picnic and then one of the open air concerts that were taking place this weekend.

But Sherlock of course had other plans.

He had barged into John’s bedroom this morning, telling him that he was about to crack the case with the jewels that turned up again in dead people a few weeks after they were stolen. He needed to find some evidence in a suspect’s grandfather’s house.

Which is were John would come in. The old man refused to talk to Sherlock; he was even less willing to let him into the house. But he wanted to sell the place, so if John could just pretend to be a potential buyer?

John’s objection that he had a date with Mary was astonishingly enough met with enthusiasm. Sherlock thought the idea of both of them pretending to be interested in the house was an even better idea.

Why Mary went along with the idea John had no clue.

So here they were. Pretending to be a happy couple trying to buy a house. John wasn’t sure if the only thing they were pretending was the house buying part.


“I am really looking forward to moving in with my daughter and her family.” The old man was still talking. “I was lonely here after my wife died. And my grandson needs a bit of a firm hand, I fear he might go to the dogs.”

If Sherlock was right, he already had. Thinking about Sherlock, where was he? John hoped he would be out of the house soon, so that they could leave and have a proper date.

The old man announced that he was going to leave them alone for a while so that they could talk undisturbed. They walked to the far end of the garden and back. Mary was looking much too serious for the situation and a little sick if John was honest.

“John, I think we need to t...”

“You son of a bitch, breaking into my house in the middle of the day? This will teach you a lesson!” The voice of the house owner reached them, followed by the distinct sound of a shotgun.

“Jesus, Sherlock!” John started running towards the house as Sherlock darted out of the back door and into the woods. John reached the old man just in time to knock the shotgun out of his hand, so that the second shot went into the treetops instead of Sherlock’s back.

“Have you lost your mind? You cannot just go about and shoot people!”

“He broke into my house! It’s my right to defend my property.”

John tried to calm himself. “You know, I think with burglaries in broad daylight and neighbours like you this is not the right place for us. Good bye.”

He turned around and went to go for Mary, who had walked over to the edge of the forest and was looking on the ground.

“Mary, let’s go... What’s wrong, why are you crying?”

“He killed a squirrel, John. An innocent squirrel, he just shot it.” More tears were falling.

“Wha...? I’m sorry, Mary. Sorry for dragging you out here and making you see this. But I don’t understand why you are that upset. It’s just a dead squirrel.”

“I am pregnant, John.”

Silence.

John swallowed.

“But we've never...”

“No, we haven’t.” She looked at her hands. “I’m sorry, John. I never meant to hurt you. ”

John tried to assess what he was feeling. He wasn’t hurt. Well, maybe a little bit. But mostly he was feeling nothing, mixed with relief.

“Let’s go find Sherlock. Then I will take you home.”

Definitely not how he thought his date with Mary would go.


---------------------------


3.

John followed Sherlock up the stairs to a flat on the third floor. The lights from the police cars were shining through the hallway windows. Lestrade had texted them that they found a murder victim and needed Sherlock’s help. As expected.

“Typical.” Sherlock had said. As expected.

What John did not expect was the interior of the flat. He had the feeling of stepping into another world. China he’d say. The decor and the furniture were definitely Chinese.

It was rather dark in the flat because there were carved wooden shutters in front of the windows. Someone had opened one of them. The window behind it was covered with a huge picture which created the illusion of looking out on green rice terraces. John blinked.

Sally grinned. “Yeah, I was disorientated for a second too. Looks pretty real, doesn’t it?”

Before John could answer a familiar voice called his name from the adjacent room. He followed it and stepped through the doorway. It was very bright here because the police had already put up big spotlights.

The room was scarcely furnished, just a big bed in the middle and a small cabinet at the wall opposite the door. The floor was, similar to the other room, made of polished planks so dark they almost seemed black.

Therefore John at first did not see the blood. It had dried in a big dark puddle.

“Wait, where is the victim?”

“Good question. We didn't find one. But with that amount of blood the former owner is certainly dead.” Lestrade was standing in the far corner of the room watching Sherlock.

“They took her away. She ignored the warning they sent.” With his usual sense for the dramatic he shut the door and showed them the dead snake that was nailed to the back.

“They nailed a snake on the inside of her door and she still came back here?”

...

“John, we are going out. Call Lestrade.”

“We are going out with Lestrade?”

“Yes. Tell him to meet us in Chinatown, in front of Leong's Legend in 30 minutes.”

“Did you solve the case then?”

“I will have solved it in about 50 minutes.”

Sherlock had spent the last two days after the ‘murder without a corpse’ doing research on his laptop, pacing through the living room mumbling and dashing off to God knows where. John wasn’t asked along.

Now they were standing in Chinatown with Lestrade. Sherlock explained that he researched the Triad and met with several of his contacts. John suddenly realised why he had to do this alone and apparently made a small understanding noise, because Sherlock shot him a glance.

“John, still doubting that I value your company?” A small smile appeared on his face for a second that made John feeling all warm and fuzzy.

“She was involved in drug traffic and most of the people are afraid to talk. I finally found someone who agreed to help; he had terms of his own though.”

“What kind of terms?”

“We need to indulge in a small illegal activity to show that we will not expose him afterwards.”

“What? Sherlock, I can’t do something like that, not even to solve a case.”

“And what kind of illegal activity are we talking here?” John was intrigued against his better judgement.

“It’s called shéjiǔ - snake wine. One drinks the blood of a snake mixed with alcohol. It’s said to heighten the libido and your strength. Might be even good for your marriage.”

“Sherlock!” Lestrade shot him a look that was supposed to be glaring but showed traces of amusement as well.

“John?”

“No way. That’s disgusting!”

“Don’t be childish. I need another person to drink with me.”

“Greg? This is your suspect after all. I just tag along.” John grinned.

“I can’t.” Lestrade was very serious.

“And why is that?” Sherlock was still concentrating on the other side of the street.

“I just can’t.”

“That is very convincing...”

“I am a dry alcoholic for God’s sake!”

Two pairs of eyes stared at Lestrade and there was a deadly silence, a silence that stretched longer than it should have between three men who - despite never admitting to the fact - were friends.

Lestrade looked at Sherlock, who immediately got over his shock and started to deduce. “Did you forget? That was one of the first things you noticed when we first met.”

“I did not forget. I don’t forget. I deleted it.”

“You what? Why?”

“It was not important for my work.”

“HOW can it not be important to your work?” John was angry and not really sure at whom. Himself for not noticing? Sherlock for not telling?

“Because I saw that he fought, hard I presume, but he won. And knowing his character and his strong will I knew that he would not slip again. Therefore it was not important for future work. I deleted it.”

Now two pairs of eyes were staring at Sherlock, who was unimpressed. John marvelled at that amazing compliment he just made. Lestrade was dumbstruck.

Sherlock returned their gazes for a moment and then said, “Now can we get back to the actual problem? I still need someone to drink with me.”

John swallowed. “Oh what the hell, I’ll do it. It’s not like I haven’t eaten worse things than a dead snake in Afghanistan. Let’s go.”

They crossed the street and entered another restaurant. Sherlock locked eyes with a man in the background who nodded slightly and gestured for them to come along. They followed him through a small, dark passage until they reached a room dimly lit by a few red lanterns.

In the middle stood a table with various glass vials and jars filled with herbs, roots and other unidentifiable objects. Behind the table sat an old man with long white hair and so many wrinkles that his face looked like a piece of wood.

Lestrade cleared his throat.

“Sit.” the old man said. John and Sherlock sat down, Lestrade preferred to remain standing. The old man produced two glasses, a bottle with a clear liquid and a knife. John felt slightly ill while Sherlock looked completely at ease.

The man who led them into the room reappeared holding a coiling snake, which he put on the table in front of the old man, never letting go of the snake’s head. It was a banded krait, beautiful but deadly poisonous. John’s instinct was to move his chair away from the table, but Sherlock put his hand on John’s leg and John immediately stilled like a dear in the headlights. His heart was racing and it had nothing to do with the snake.

Lestrade cleared his throat again.

The old man took the knife and with a smooth movement cut off the snake’s head, pouring its blood into the two glasses and filling them up with the liquor. Each man took his glass and they looked at each other. Something passed between them, making John tingle all over. He had no idea what was going on here.

Then Sherlock blinked slowly and when he reopened his eyes the moment was gone. He gave John a small smile and emptied his glass. John closed his eyes and followed Sherlock’s lead. The booze was so strong that he didn’t even taste the blood, but it felt odd when it ran down his throat.

“Do you want to eat the heart and the meat, too?”

“Um...” John wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Did they need to do that as well? Sherlock didn’t say anything, but finally shook his head, took an envelope from the table and got up, leaving the room with his usual stride. John and Lestrade looked at each other, clueless, and followed. When they were on the street again, Sherlock turned around.

“Well done, John.” He looked at Lestrade. “It was the boy from the flower shop downstairs who killed the girl. You will never find the body, though.”

“What? Sherlock, wait!”

But Sherlock had turned his attention to the street.

“Taxi!”


---------------------------


4.

John came home from a weekend spent over at Harry’s. His sister and her wife had decided to give their marriage another try. Clara begged him to come with them to their weekend home for her birthday and John finally agreed. It had been surprisingly nice.

The flat was quiet and the air smelled old and used up. It was summer and thus hot in a flat with closed windows. It seemed like Sherlock hadn’t been here the last days either.

Maybe a case had come up? The original plan had been for Sherlock to use the time for all the experiments John did not want to think about. But the chaos on the kitchen table looked pretty much the same. Except for that new setup. Was that a human...? John decided that he did not want to know right now.

He sighed and went over to open the windows. Three dead flies and a bumblebee lay on the windowsill. The air rushed into the flat and swept them to the ground. John was strangely sad about the dead bumblebee.

He picked up his bag and went to his room. He passed Sherlock’s door which was closed. John opened the windows in his room and unpacked. Then he decided to check Sherlock’s room as well, because you never knew what he had hidden in there – explosive, flammable, infectious, rotten, poisonous or all together – that might react to the heat.

He knocked on the door just to be sure, but there was no reaction. So he opened the door and immediately took a step backwards. The air in here was even worse, there was definitely something rotten in here. The room was dark. John went over to the windows, yanked open the curtains and opened the windows.

When he turned around his gaze fell onto the bed and he nearly had a heart attack. There was Sherlock, naked, sprawled like a dead bird, tangled in his sheets, even paler than usual and covered in sweat. And he smelled.

John rushed to the bed, grateful that he could see a faint rising and falling of the chest, fell to his knees and checked Sherlock’s pulse. Then he saw the injection wounds on his arm.
He looked around and there they were: small syringes lying on the bedside table.

“God, Sherlock. Morphine?” he whispered.

Half of his brain was already trying to remember if he had Naloxon in his medical kit to counteract the effect, while he used the other half to check on Sherlock. He relaxed when he realised that intoxication was already over and Sherlock was just in the deep sleep of exhaustion.

He got up and spent the next 30 minutes carefully washing Sherlock and changing his sheets. When he was nearly finished, Sherlock woke up.

“Hm...John?”

“Yes, I’m here. Sleep. Everything will be alright.”

“Don’t ... worried, John... just morphine.”

“Just morphine? Jesus, some doctors in Afghanistan killed men with morphine when they were too badly wounded. Why would you do that?”

“New experiment... needed to think.” And he was gone again.

John sat down on the bed next to Sherlock and closed his eyes in exasperation.

He woke up again when Sherlock’s breathing got heavier and he was mumbling in his sleep. John put a hand on his head and made soft calming noises.

“Too much information... couldn’t think... you were gone.”

“Shush, I’m here now.”

“Sometimes I just want to imprison you in the flat to be with me forever... like an insect in amber.” That was disturbing and surprisingly sweet at the same time, John thought.

He moved until he was lying beside Sherlock on the bed and took his hand.

“I’m not going to leave you. I promise.”

With sudden clarity he knew that his childhood dreams of a family, a house with garden and a bunch of children in it were just that – childhood dreams. It was not what he wanted anymore. He wanted to be right here, living an adventurous life with the world’s only consulting detective.

He was woken by Sherlock, who sat up in bed and poked him.

“John. I’m fine. It is not necessary for you to keep watch. The only thing gained from that will be your scarred shoulder hurting.”

John knew that he was right, but the words made him angry nonetheless.

“Fine? You are certainly not fine. You are completely crazy. Morphine? Have you lost your mind?”

“I had everything under control. I just needed a distraction.”

“Morphine is not a distraction. It’s slow suicide. I know, because I've seen it, Sherlock. It dulls the pain, not just the physical but the emotional as well. I saw it in Afghanistan. People start to get tired of the war, the killing, tired of living, of everything. First they get careless and then they turn to drugs.”

He was silent for a moment. Sherlock just looked at him, as always seeing more than John was showing.

“It’s passive suicide by stopping to care, first about the others, then about yourself. I was there, Sherlock. Luckily I got shot before I could turn to the drugs.”

He didn’t realise he was crying until he felt a hand on his shoulder, weightless, hesitant, but a clear offer. John threw his arms around the other man and clung to him, sobbing silently.

Sherlock didn’t say anything, did not offer any empty comforting words, instead his arms were a warm and reassuring pressure around John. Sherlock held him until he fell asleep.

John did not hear Sherlock whisper softly, “It wasn’t better after you got shot. It wasn’t better after you got home. But then you met me.” And he did not see Sherlock smile in awe at that realisation.

But he noticed that Sherlock never used morphine again.



---------------------------



5.

John and Molly were standing in one of the labs at Barts, softly talking about the actual flu epidemic that swept through London and claimed many victims.

Sherlock was in one of the other labs, conducting some kind of experiment with sound waves and vibration. There was no case at the moment, but to the great happiness of everyone he had enough experiments to keep him occupied for a while.

John was particularly glad, because he had a lot to do in the surgery these days. And it was nice not to worry about the possibility of coming home to an exploded building just because Sherlock was bored.

John was about to invite Molly downstairs for a coffee when suddenly the glass vials on the table began to rattle. Molly looked alarmed and then screamed when one of them exploded.

John grabbed her and dragged her under the next table, pulling a crate that stood close in front of the opening so that they were in an enclosed space. There was more rattling and shattering of glass.

After a few minutes there was silence. John crawled out from under the table and darted to the lab in which Sherlock had worked. He was standing in front of a very strange machine, looking slightly ruffled and indignant but otherwise unharmed.

“Sherlock! Are you alright?”

“Hm? Yes, of course.” He waved a hand dismissively.

“I suppose what just happened was your experiment?”

Which caused every single window in the whole building to shatter into tiny pieces as they found out later when the police arrived. Someone reported an act of terrorism. It was a wonder that nobody got hurt.

John called Lestrade since he thought it would go down better if he handled Sherlock and not some unknown police officer. They were waiting for Lestrade to arrive when Sally stormed in, grinning in a way that would’ve freaked out anybody other than Sherlock. “That’s it, freak! This time you’re going down. Not even Lestrade can look the other way on this one. This is going to cost you. Plus, you killed that sparrow!”

With that she threw the dead bird at Sherlock’s feet.

...

That same afternoon Mycroft came to 221B. John went to the kitchen to make tea and told him that Sherlock wasn’t there.

“I know. He is at Scotland Yard.”

Silence. Why was he here?

"The charge against him for the destruction of public property has been dropped.“

Silence. John filled the kettle with water.

"You know, John, it is a very good thing that the two of you met. I only wish it had happened earlier. But you’re here now, that is what counts. I hope my son will one day have a friend like you.”

“You have a son?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know.”

“No one does. Not even Sherlock.”

John nearly dropped the kettle.

“He doesn’t know? How is that even possible?”

“It’s for his safety. I have a lot of enemies. He is with his mother. Sherlock doesn’t know because I assumed it would make him sad.”

“What? Why would it make him sad? Granted, he probably is not very good with children, but I think he would be happy for you that you have a family.”

“I don’t have a family. And I was referring to the fact that my son reminds me very much of Sherlock at his age. I did not want to put the burden on him to know that there is another child that will have to suffer like he did.”

“But because he knows what it is like, he might be able to help.”

“He wouldn’t want to help.”

“You can’t know that. Besides, shouldn’t that be his decision?”

John thought about that. Maybe the man he first met would not have wanted to help his nephew, but Sherlock clearly had changed over the past years.

Mycroft looked at him, apparently seeing something he liked. John had no idea what.

“I have to go. Thank you for the tea, Dr. Watson. As I said earlier, I am very glad that he found you.”

John stood there for a few seconds, wondering why Mycroft had told him about his son. Why did he even come? Then he realised that he never made the tea and put the kettle on.


---------------------------


6. (+1)

“We need to stop the cars.”

Sherlock, John and Sally were standing at the crossing of Piccadilly Circus, looking at the slow-moving traffic.

“We cannot wait for the police and we need to do something that will not alarm the kidnappers.”

Sherlock thought for a moment, and then turned around to John and Sally.

“We are going to step into the middle of the road and take off our clothes.”

“What? Have you lost your mind? We are going to get arrested.”

“Seriously John, with the kidnapping of the Prime Minister and his family the police have other things on their mind.”

With that he stepped into the queue of cars and started to unbutton his shirt. John gaped.

“I really, really hate to say it, but the freak’s right this time. This WILL stop the traffic and I don’t have a better idea.”

And she stepped onto the street as well, made her way through the commotion Sherlock already managed to create to the oncoming traffic and started stripping. Cars were honking, some people shouting, some cheering.

John had the distinct feeling of being in a parallel universe. Then the absurdity of the situation hit him and he started to laugh. Sherlock’s head snapped around and John shot him a broad grin before pulling his jumper over his head and making his way to the third access road.

Someone had turned his car radio to full volume and Sally was dancing a little while unzipping her skirt.

John took his position and unbuttoned his shirt. He saw with satisfaction that the crossroad was already nearly completely jammed. He started to whistle along with the song playing on the radio.

People were coming out of their cars, some still shouting, but some of them joining in with the dancing.

John absently noticed the hedgehog slowly crossing the street while he ripped open his trousers.

...

A few hours later they were back in Baker Street and John dropped into his armchair.

“What a day!” He laughed.

They had in fact been arrested, but only for a short while until Mycroft stepped in. Their initiative had been successful, the traffic had been jammed long enough for NSY to rescue the Prime Minister and his family. In the end they might even get a medal for stripping in public, John thought amused.

Sherlock still stood in the doorway and looked at him questioningly.

“What?”

“I thought you'd be angry with me. You were not happy when I suggested doing what we did and it DID get you arrested. I did.”

“Well, it was an absolutely crazy idea. But after I got over the first shock it was actually fun. And for a good cause.”

“Sergeant Donovan said she thought about ways to kill me the whole time.”

“Honestly? I didn’t think a lot while doing it. And the only thing I could think about afterwards was that you have an incredibly beautiful body and that I really want to shag you.”

This left Sherlock speechless, but was not the shocking confession.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong.” John got up and walked towards Sherlock.

“I don’t want just your body. I want all of you. Your body, your brilliant mind, your crazy ideas and your life-threatening way of living. And you can go on and delete all of this in a few seconds and we can stay friends like we used to be. But I need you to know that I love you.”

That wasn’t the shocking confession either. The shocking confession came twenty seconds later when Sherlock found his speech again.

“I don’t want to delete any of it.”

Because who’d have thought that the great Sherlock Holmes was capable of love? Certainly not John who just stood there and gaped as Sherlock closed the distance between them, pressed John against the wall and kissed him


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AN: I had a lot of fun writing that, I hope you have at least that much fun while reading!

This is only lightly beta'd, so every mistake you find is mine. But they are up for adoption if you want one!




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Comments

[fanbot.livejournal.com]

Very fun!

[anarion.livejournal.com]

Thank you for the shiny comment! :D

I also love your icon! <3

[atlinmerrick.livejournal.com]

What? WHAT? WHAAAAT? Son? SON? SOOOON?

You are so freaking me out.

And also: The stipping? You are genius. And also, you are writing like a house on fire, good on ya mate! Keep it up, keep going, go go go go go!

Which is to say: More please?

[anarion.livejournal.com]

Aah, thank you so much! <3

I kinda freaked myself out too. *lol* I never would've thought that I could write this much for such a seemingly crack!fic prompt!

Hehe, the stripping was fun! The images in my head! You have no idea. Or probably you have. *haha*

Now I need to finish 'Another Blink in time', because I get distracted by other plot bunnies and I don't want to lose the connection to the story. And then I can concentrate on blowjobs again. *yay*
(I have the slight feeling that stories with porn in it are more appreciated here anyway. *grins*)

xoxo

[verityburns.livejournal.com]

Still loving this, honey - and still in awe that you managed to write all this based off one of your funny email subjects!

The heart failure over the second one... well, I may forgive you one day. But it will take cookies :D

[anarion.livejournal.com]

Thank you! :)
I am still in awe too. *lol*

Oh, don't worry, cookies are there in the near future! *yay*

[satiaentreri.livejournal.com]

I am still laughing about the picture of the three of them stripping in the middle of the street!!! This was really fun to read and I would have loooved to read further! But it was good as it was. Thank you for writing it.

[anarion.livejournal.com]

Thank you for that sweet comment and for reading! :)

The stripping was my favourite illegal action too! *ahem*

Also I love your icon!

[ellie_hell.livejournal.com]

WOOT! Finally reading this!

1. Haha, it's just the first animal death and I'm already howling with laughter. I loved how Sherlock seemed like he was repressing the need to laugh and knew what was going to happen all along. Their shared laughter at the end was adorable, god I love them.

2.Yeah John, running after Sherlock when he gets in trouble! It reminded me of TBB :-) I was scared when Mary said she was feeling sick (because I was trying to deduce what the shocking revelation would be) and I must admit I was really relieved when John said they had never... Phew, now please go shag Sherlock.

3. Aaaw Lestrade! And Sherlock being nice, but in a very Sherlock way; that's exactly how I would imagine him paying someone a compliment. It's probably one of the nicest things he could ever tell Lestrade and I'm all fuzzy, what a splendid idea! I also like the little moment between Sherlock and John (and the snake). John's leg is always an excellent place for Sherlock to rest his hand on.

4. Sherlock! No! Don't experiment with morphine! It was sweet of John to take care of him though, but what really pleased me was when he got mad at him (it's exactly how I imagine him reacting). There was something oddly innocent about Sherlock realizing he was the reason behind John getting better after Afghanistan, I think he would be smug and pleased about that. (TMI: I spend three days in the hospital in October and I spend those three days very high on morphine. It didn't stop me from reading Sherlock fics though and now because of you I want to re-read the only one I actually remember reading to see how different it would be now that I'm not high).

5. :-( Mycroft! It's sweet that he trusted John with his secret, but it's also sad that the boy is not in contact with such an important part of his family. I really hope he finds his own John one day and I hope Mycroft will think about John's words and tell Sherlock about his nephew. Also, poor Sparrow.

6. Yay, HEDGEHOG! Yes, that's the only thing I remember about that part, the only thing... Oh, by the way, why are Sherlock and John turned into a shark and a hedgehog all over Tumblr?

...

STRIPPING? Oh Sherlock, I love you, what a brilliant idea! Was it also a ploy to see John naked? ;-) It sure seemed effective and I'm totally not surprised that among the screaming, there was also some cheering (some of it may have been me). I loved Sally's little dance :-) The ending was very sweet and the whole fic was very funny, reading it made me so happy!

[anarion.livejournal.com]

I love your comments! They always make me happy! :)

1. god I love them Yeah, me too. *hugs Sherlock&John*
2. Phew, now please go shag Sherlock Seconded! Like whoa!
3. John's leg is always an excellent place for Sherlock to rest his hand on Yep.
4. I think he would be smug and pleased about that Course he would. ;)
5. Also, poor Sparrow Here, have a cookie.
6. Yay, HEDGEHOG! Haha! Also: Um, what? Shark? Hedgehog? What did I miss?

Glad you enjoyed reading (and the stripping. God knows I did. *ahem*)
:D

[zevbaldwin.livejournal.com]

Awesome!

[uwsannajane.livejournal.com]

Glad you posted the announcement about the translation, because I had somehow managed to miss this the first time around - which is dreadful except that now I get to read it, and it is just WAY too much fun. And sweet. All the good things!

[anarion.livejournal.com]

Hu, I somehow managed to miss that comment, sorry about that.

I am very glad that you liked it and that you found it in the end, thanks to the translation! :D

[tialangela.livejournal.com]

“Sometimes I just want to imprison you in the flat to be with me forever...” AAAWWWWWW....
“... like an insect in amber.” EEEEEWWWWWWW!!!!!
And the stripping! Wooot! \o/

[anarion.livejournal.com]

I take it you enjoyed reading? ;)

Thanks for that enthusiastic comment! <3

[geaven.livejournal.com]

An excellent mix of humour, drama and friendship, with a little bit of slash in the end. Well done! :D

EDIT: Oh, and I noticed that this has been translated into Chinese and you seemed to approve of that, so I figured that maybe you'd like a Swedish translation too? If so, please feel free to say so and I'll fix it for you! :)

[anarion.livejournal.com]

Thank you very much, that is so kind! :)

A Swedish tranlation would be awesome! Thank you so much for the offer, I am delighted! *bounces*
The only rules I have is that there is a link to my journal in the translated post that clearly states me as the author (had a bad experience in that regard) and that I get a link to the translation so that others can enjoy the new language as well. :D

[geaven.livejournal.com]

OK, I'm on it! :) I'll let you know when it's up.

[dani-tomlinson.livejournal.com]

NAAAAKEDDDD Hooray! Oh my... Loved this *so* much!

[anarion.livejournal.com]

Haha, naked is ALWAYS good, isn't it? :D

I loved writing this, I had so much fun!