“I’m just saying,” pouted Sherlock, “that I think the dragon was misunderstood.”
“Really?” said John. “All of the things that you could attack about that movie, and you’re going to defend the villain?”
“He’s a dragon, John. He wanted some gold. It’s just his nature.”
"Sherlock, dragons aren’t real, you know.”
Sherlock scowled. “I know that.”
“I didn’t know if maybe you deleted it along with the solar system.”
“You know, you dragged me to see that stupid movie, you shouldn’t complain now that I have opinions about it.” Sherlock flopped onto the sofa, full sulk mode engaged.
"I’m sorry,” said John. “You’re right. I’m glad you identified with somebody in the movie.” John paused. “Even if it was the evil dragon.”
Sherlock huffed and turned his back on John.
John, chuckling, left him to his sulk.
***
“I am not alone,” proclaimed Sherlock, leaping onto John’s bed.
John, startled out of sleep, said, “What?”
Sherlock shoved his laptop into John’s face, too close for John to focus on, especially in his bleary-eyed state. “I. Am not. Alone.”
“No,” said John, closing his eyes and turning over. “You’re not. You’re with me.”
Sherlock sprawled across John’s midsection so that he could stay on the side of John’s body that would put him in eyesight if John opened his eyes. “No. I mean about the dragon.”
“The dragon?” John echoed.
“From the movie! Oh, my God, John, that was your bloody movie that you wanted to see.”
"Yes, and I saw it, and I’m fine with not thinking about it in the middle of the night.”
“I went on the Internet,” continued Sherlock, as if John hadn’t spoken, “and there are lots of people who agree with me about the dragon.”
John gave up and opened his eyes and looked at Sherlock. “Are you seriously going to wake me up to talk to me about how you’re right in your defense of a fictional dragon?”
Sherlock considered. “Yes,” he decided.
“You have absolutely no shame,” remarked John.
“No,” Sherlock agreed, and once again shoved his laptop too close in John’s face. “See, dragons aren’t greedy, John, not really, they can’t help it.”
"They’re just addicted to gold?” asked John, dryly.
“No. Well, unless human beings are addicted to sofas.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We could live without comfortable seating, sure, but why would you want to?”
"If I had to massacre whole villages to get a comfy chair, then I think I might learn to live without comfy chairs.”
Sherlock groaned in despair and rolled off of John—which was good, because he’d been getting heavy—and wriggled onto his back on the mattress next to him. “You’re thinking like a human. You’ve got to think like a dragon.”
“Sherlock, there’s no such thing as—”
“It would be tough to be a dragon. They’re really big and scaly and they’ve got massive teeth and then they breathe fire. Humans aren’t going to want to be friends with them. Even if they were a nice dragon. It’s lonely being a dragon. So they find something that makes them feel less lonely. The dwarves all had each other, they were the greedy ones.”
John looked across at Sherlock’s profile. He thought maybe Sherlock knew something about loneliness and the things you did, desperately, to keep it at bay. “You’re absolutely mad.”
Sherlock made a dismissive sound in the direction of the ceiling.
"But maybe you have a point.”
Sherlock looked at him in absolute delight. John could see it even in the dimness of the bedroom. “See? I’m right.”
“I said that you have a point. I’m not entirely sure you’re right. I feel like that dragon could have made friends. He had a pretty sexy voice.”
“Their world didn’t have telephones, John,” said Sherlock, scathingly.
John grinned at him. “I love how seriously you take fiction.”
"What is the point of subjecting yourself to something like that if you’re not going to take it seriously?”
"I’m gonna get you hooked on Eastenders. I can’t wait to hear your rants about that.”
“Don’t you think it’s bad enough you made me watch the poor, lonely dragon?”
“I didn’t think you were going to get sad about the dragon. Sorry about that.”
Sherlock made a sound halfway between I didn’t get sad about him and thank you for realizing I’m sad about him.
“For what it’s worth,” John said, and rolled on top of him. “I’d let you desolate me anytime you like.”
“You know how much I hate it when you use euphemisms,” Sherlock frowned up at him.
“Fine. Get your laptop out of this bed and shag me through the mattress.”
“Better,” said Sherlock.
“Good dragon,” said John, and kissed the tip of his nose.
“Idiot,” grumbled Sherlock. But when he flipped John over, he growled at him playfully.
And John laughed, and Sherlock kissed him.
(Also posted to the noshameficathon collection on AO3.)
