Characters: John, Sherlock
Prompt: 16. Purple
Word Count (if fiction): 400
Summary: Sherlock would not object to an experiment.
Author's Notes: Just a snippet of life in 221B Baker Street. My first fic in this fandom.
“I wouldn’t object.” Sherlock’s voice rumbled into the quiet dark of the living room.
He and John had been lounging independently of each other for some time, John hunting and pecking out a new blog entry, Sherlock slumped in his chair and fiddling with a length of purple string.
John stabbed a full stop triumphantly and sat back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. After a moment of careful consideration he shrugged and shook his head. “Nope, sorry. No clue what you’re on about.”
“I wouldn’t object to an experiment.” Sherlock clarified, admiring the incomprehensible mass of tangled string he’d created. He gave it a brief twitch of a smile and then began to unknot it.
John frowned. “Um, of course. Of course you wouldn’t. You don’t object to experiments.” He blinked, and the chair creaked as he turned to look at his flat mate. “I object to experiments.”
“Absolutely not.” John shook his head and turned to face his computer again. Sherlock quirked an eyebrow and turned his gaze from the drooping, half-knotted violet mass, only to snort when John continued, looking back and forth between the keyboard and the screen distractedly. “We agreed; no more experiments in the living room.”
Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Not physically between us.” John’s fingers stilled and he squinted suspiciously at the ceiling.
“Actually,” Sherlock cocked his head and tugged neatly on two loops of his knot. “Yes,” he said as the string, completely untangled, fell limply to his lap. “An experiment between us.”
A thick, dry creak heralded another perplexed swivel from John. “Between us?”
“Physically” Sherlock elucidated with a peculiar sort of half-malevolent smirk, stretching the string taut between his fingers.
John digested the information, his sightless gaze locked on Sherlock for a few long moments.
Sherlock began an attempt at cat’s cradle with himself.
“Sex.” John eventually concluded.
“Indeed.” Sherlock nodded, scissoring his pinky and ring fingers, trying unsuccessfully to capture thin strips of purple between them.
“Why not?” Sherlock slapped his hands into his lap and pierced John with a petulant frown.
“Oh my God I’m not having this conversation.” John turned away, standing up with a wince and trying to collect his laptop and escape as quickly as possible.
“Ignoring it won’t make this go away, John!” Sherlock turned back to his string but his shout echoed through the flat, following John up the stairs.
Continued in Curious.
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