Sherlock Holmes, Your Soft Side Is Showing
The Date [Johnlock]
Sherlock stood, waiting for John, against the wall. He had his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, the scarf wrapped around his neck warmly. He knew John would be home soon, would come in dragging his tired self into 221B Baker Street. And here Sherlock waited for him - for his soul mate - to come through that door, only to take him out to dinner and look at the stars high above the city lights.
Of course, being Sherlock, he had already had everything planned out perfectly. He heard the click of the lock and John stepped inside, closing the door behind himself. With a smile unknowingly wriggling its way to the surface, Sherlock stepped forward. His long arms snaked around John from behind, causing him to jump and then cuddle into him once he’d realized who it was (“Good God, Sherlock; you startled me!”), and he placed a kiss on the top of John’s head lightly.
“I missed you,” Sherlock murmured into John’s ear, making him turn a bit red. Watson turned in his love’s arms, pressing his lips to the other’s. He smiled and replied, “I missed you as well.” Sherlock leaned his head down enough to touch their foreheads together.
Sherlock took John’s hands and entwined their fingers, gazing into his eyes with pure love and devotion. John smiled and whispered, “I truly didn’t think I’d be here in this moment, I thought I’d die in the war.” Sherlock responded quietly, “I truly didn’t think I’d be here, either, John. I never thought I’d fall in love, mostly because people can’t usually withstand me for long periods of time.”
He gently pulled John back towards the door, with a small groan from him, but Sherlock was determined even so. His hands covered John’s eyes as he led him up onto the flat’s rooftop, and John instinctively rested his cold hands over Sherlock’s warm hands. Finally they came to a stop, and Sherlock slid his own and John’s hands away from his eyes. John’s jaw dropped as he saw the beautifully romantic view placed before him.
There was a table set for two with candlesticks, low multicolored lights above head, and a covered, steaming pot placed upon the middle of it. The city lights shone and sparkled against the dark sky line, with the faint smell of the roast wafting in the air lightly. John’s eyes took in the twinkling white stars above them, reminding him of the glint in Sherlock’s eyes. He stood there a minute before Sherlock coiled his arms around John’s waist, softly asking in his ear, “Do you like it, love?”
John’s jaw was still dropped, getting goose bumps as Sherlock’s warm breath hit the nape of his neck; he nodded slowly in astonishment. “He’s really outdone himself,” John thought, moaning quietly as Sherlock kissed his neck. He bit his lower lip gently, trying to fight back tears of happiness. “Sherlock,” he said, “Fantastic. Just purely fantastic.”
Of course, being Sherlock, he had already had everything planned out perfectly. He heard the click of the lock and John stepped inside, closing the door behind himself. With a smile unknowingly wriggling its way to the surface, Sherlock stepped forward. His long arms snaked around John from behind, causing him to jump and then cuddle into him once he’d realized who it was (“Good God, Sherlock; you startled me!”), and he placed a kiss on the top of John’s head lightly.
“I missed you,” Sherlock murmured into John’s ear, making him turn a bit red. Watson turned in his love’s arms, pressing his lips to the other’s. He smiled and replied, “I missed you as well.” Sherlock leaned his head down enough to touch their foreheads together.
Sherlock took John’s hands and entwined their fingers, gazing into his eyes with pure love and devotion. John smiled and whispered, “I truly didn’t think I’d be here in this moment, I thought I’d die in the war.” Sherlock responded quietly, “I truly didn’t think I’d be here, either, John. I never thought I’d fall in love, mostly because people can’t usually withstand me for long periods of time.”
He gently pulled John back towards the door, with a small groan from him, but Sherlock was determined even so. His hands covered John’s eyes as he led him up onto the flat’s rooftop, and John instinctively rested his cold hands over Sherlock’s warm hands. Finally they came to a stop, and Sherlock slid his own and John’s hands away from his eyes. John’s jaw dropped as he saw the beautifully romantic view placed before him.
There was a table set for two with candlesticks, low multicolored lights above head, and a covered, steaming pot placed upon the middle of it. The city lights shone and sparkled against the dark sky line, with the faint smell of the roast wafting in the air lightly. John’s eyes took in the twinkling white stars above them, reminding him of the glint in Sherlock’s eyes. He stood there a minute before Sherlock coiled his arms around John’s waist, softly asking in his ear, “Do you like it, love?”
John’s jaw was still dropped, getting goose bumps as Sherlock’s warm breath hit the nape of his neck; he nodded slowly in astonishment. “He’s really outdone himself,” John thought, moaning quietly as Sherlock kissed his neck. He bit his lower lip gently, trying to fight back tears of happiness. “Sherlock,” he said, “Fantastic. Just purely fantastic.”