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Johncroft, 47

“No one needs to know.”

John pauses in mid-pace, turning to look at Mycroft. He knows what he’s saying, but asks anyway. “What do you mean?”

“Us. This.” Mycroft gestures around them from where he’s still lounging in the bed they so recently shared.

“Sherlock will deduce the minute I walk in the door.”

Mycroft leans forward and takes John by the hip. “No he won’t.” He draws John back into bed, back into orbit, back into the heat of his kiss and the touch of his hands.

And John melts. Consequences be damned, he wants to be here.

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John and Sherlock, #19. If you’re still doing the drabble thing. :-)

“The paint’s supposed to go where?” John stared incredulously at Sherlock, brush in his hand.

Sherlock huffed. "It’s performance art. And there are certain parts of my anatomy I can’t reach well.”

John shook his head. He never did understand everything Sherlock asked of him, and this was no exception. Crouching a bit, tongue sticking to the corner of his mouth, he painted a rough aproximation of a tree in the  middle of Sherlock’s back, then painted roots going down…

“i don’t know if I can do this,” muttered John.

“I’ll let you help  me wash it off when we’re done,” said Sherlock without turning around.

“How do you know I actually painted what you wanted back here, anyway?”

“Because you did.” Sherlock stayed perfectly still.

John looked at his work, adding a few finishing strokes. Wasn’t that the sum of their friendship? Sherlock didn’t have to second guess, John simply did and that was enough for them.

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#41. “You did all of this for me?” with Mycroft/Lestrade? Oooorrr… #5. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous??” with John/Sherlock? :D

How about both!

Mycroft opened the door to his home office and stopped dead in his tracks. Where normally there was his sterile desk and bookshelves, now there was a shelf full of orchids bringing color and scent to the room. On the desk was one of Mycroft’s favorite books, first edition. And open to his favorite passage he noticed as he stepped further into the room. Quietly he moved to inspect the flowers a moment before taking a seat and pulling the book to him.

There was a knock on the open door. He looked up to find Greg standing there with a bottle of their favorite wine and two glasses.

“You did all this for me?” asked Mycroft.

“Happy Birthday,” smiled Greg, coming in to steal a kiss and pour the wine.

**

John watched Sherlock lean against the bar, smiling and lightly touch the arm of the other young man. He took another swig of his beer. The other man laughed at something Sherlock said and he saw the detectives eyes light up. It was an act. He knew it was an act. But still his hand flexed by his side. The other man leaned in and whispered something in Sherlock’s ear, hand coming to rest on his thigh.

That was it. John put down his drink and walked towards the pair, case be damned. “Excuse me,” he said, tapping the other man’s shoulder. He saw Sherlock’s eyes and ignored the silent command to back off.

“Hey go away,” he said, looking down at John. “I’m busy.”

“No, you’re done.”

The man scoffed, taking in John’s size. “What are you going to do about it?”

Less then three minutes later John and Sherlock were out on their arses. At least John had the satisfaction of watching the other man hold his bloody nose and glare at them as he headed down the street.

“I almost had the information I need,” said Sherlock, turning on him. “Why would you…” He blinked and looked closer at John. "Wait a minute. Are you jealous?“

"Brilliant deduction,” growled John. He looked at him a moment, then pulled him down and into a kiss.

send me a pairing and a number and i’ll write you a drabble

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Mystrade, and 21 was just made for them.

“We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?” Mycroft stared at Greg as if he’d grown another head.

“Come on, when was the last time you came out from under that umbrella?” Greg grinned at him, going to snatch it from his hand.

“Gregory!” He twisted away, only to slip in a puddle and land square on his arse, umbrella skidding from his hands.

Laughing, Greg offered him a hand up, pulling him into a kiss as thunder rolled over them. Mycroft returned it, then pulled away and looked him in the eye. “I am sending you my dry cleaning bill.”

“Fair.”

send me a pairing and a number and i’ll write you a drabble

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johnlock 11

John walked down the snowy path, hands in his pocket, scowl on his face. School wasn’t going well this term. He’d have to put more time in studying. Suddenly Sherlock stepped in front of him, smirk on his face.

“Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!” John was cut off by the impact of cold on his cheek. “Sher…” another one hit his chest.

Growling, John bent and gathered up a handful of snow while being pelted by another one. He threw it and soon he was giggling as they went back and forth, finally pushing Sherlock down in a snowbank, grinning at him. “You bastard.”

Sherlock smiled up at him. “I’ve got hot chocolate and can help you study for that Latin test next week.

“Add in a towel and you’ve got a deal.”

send me a pairing and a number and i’ll write you a drabble