But he was waiting for the sense memories of Sherlock’s hands on him, of Sherlock’s tongue stroking against his, of Sherlock’s breath against his skin, to fade enough that John thought he could trust himself to see Sherlock and not launch himself on top of him. No, John! Do that, it's a wonderful plan!
John wanted to take Sherlock’s hand, wanted to rub his nose into Sherlock’s skin, wanted to make him laugh until he smiled, soft and fond, and maybe even kissed the tip of John’s nose. Oh, God, he was fantasizing about having the tip of his nose kissed. Aww. It's so like what Sherlock wanted at the end of chapter 4, when he dreamed about just holding John's hand.
If John had tried to do that, he would have fallen into a snow bank halfway through. *giggles*
“It could be a crime scene,” Sherlock suggested, thoughtfully. “A beheaded snowman.” Trust Sherlock to see crime everywhere.
“Why can’t we use blood?” Sherlock countered, blankly. I hope Annabel's father will never hear about this conversation.
The snowball ball is adorable. It reminds me of a drawing that, now that I think about it, is also about Mystrade. :-) http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_luo52xR9U51qc5wq3o1_1280.jpg
Which was how John came to find himself sprawled over Sherlock in the snow, their bodies in almost perfect alignment. Oh, poor John, he fell down. No, wait...
Then a voice from beyond Sherlock, from the direction of the house said... Mycroft, obviously. ...“I gave you my number. Thought you might call.” OH MY GOD.
Then he waggled his fingers in a mockery of a wave and sing-songed, “Hi.” Earlgreytea, how can you do that? It was all Christmassy atmosphere, chimney corner, mistletoe, hot cocoa, UST and kisses and you have completely killed the mood. You sadist writer!
Only he’s boring. He’s on the side of the angels. Don't... Don't quote The Reichenbach Fall like that. It reminds me there's a slippery roof in your fic and it makes me nervous. :D
The bedroom door slammed a second later. I guess Sherlock would like John to think it's his business.
John said, by way of greeting, “Bloody, bloody, bloody hell,” as he sat in wet snow and clung to the roof and thought about falling off and then told himself not to think about falling off. “Why would you sit up here?” Oh, great. There's Sherlock and there's John and there's (virtually) Moriarty and there's a conversation on a roof and you use the words roof and falling off in the same sentence. *is not worried at all* I'm so glad John is also on the roof this time!
“You don’t want to be left alone,” John retorted. “You tell yourself you want to be left alone, but you don’t, not really. You’ve been sitting up here for hours feeling sorry for yourself because no one has bothered to follow you out onto this roof.” Hear, hear!
Sherlock’s life was a maelstrom of confusion. And he was cooking eggs. *giggles* Is it cause and effect?
No more dates, thought Sherlock. No more snogs, mistletoe-provoked or not. HEY!
He could surely live without John. He would start as soon as he’d delivered John his eggs. That's a bad start. Good!
Because if he didn’t walk away from John now, John would sooner or later walk away from him. Exactly what John thinks about him. Gaah, you idiots!
Wow, this chapter. I really didn't see Moriarty coming. I love the conversation on the roof, so chaste but so full of love. And now I can't wait to see how long Sherlock will be able to keep his resolution. Not very long, I hope! :-)
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Date: 2013-01-20 02:53 am (UTC)No, John! Do that, it's a wonderful plan!
John wanted to take Sherlock’s hand, wanted to rub his nose into Sherlock’s skin, wanted to make him laugh until he smiled, soft and fond, and maybe even kissed the tip of John’s nose. Oh, God, he was fantasizing about having the tip of his nose kissed.
Aww. It's so like what Sherlock wanted at the end of chapter 4, when he dreamed about just holding John's hand.
If John had tried to do that, he would have fallen into a snow bank halfway through.
*giggles*
“It could be a crime scene,” Sherlock suggested, thoughtfully. “A beheaded snowman.”
Trust Sherlock to see crime everywhere.
“Why can’t we use blood?” Sherlock countered, blankly.
I hope Annabel's father will never hear about this conversation.
The snowball ball is adorable. It reminds me of a drawing that, now that I think about it, is also about Mystrade. :-)
http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_luo52xR9U51qc5wq3o1_1280.jpg
Which was how John came to find himself sprawled over Sherlock in the snow, their bodies in almost perfect alignment.
Oh, poor John, he fell down. No, wait...
Then a voice from beyond Sherlock, from the direction of the house said...
Mycroft, obviously.
...“I gave you my number. Thought you might call.”
OH MY GOD.
Then he waggled his fingers in a mockery of a wave and sing-songed, “Hi.”
Earlgreytea, how can you do that? It was all Christmassy atmosphere, chimney corner, mistletoe, hot cocoa, UST and kisses and you have completely killed the mood. You sadist writer!
Only he’s boring. He’s on the side of the angels.
Don't... Don't quote The Reichenbach Fall like that. It reminds me there's a slippery roof in your fic and it makes me nervous. :D
The bedroom door slammed a second later.
I guess Sherlock would like John to think it's his business.
John said, by way of greeting, “Bloody, bloody, bloody hell,” as he sat in wet snow and clung to the roof and thought about falling off and then told himself not to think about falling off. “Why would you sit up here?”
Oh, great. There's Sherlock and there's John and there's (virtually) Moriarty and there's a conversation on a roof and you use the words roof and falling off in the same sentence. *is not worried at all* I'm so glad John is also on the roof this time!
“You don’t want to be left alone,” John retorted. “You tell yourself you want to be left alone, but you don’t, not really. You’ve been sitting up here for hours feeling sorry for yourself because no one has bothered to follow you out onto this roof.”
Hear, hear!
Sherlock’s life was a maelstrom of confusion. And he was cooking eggs.
*giggles*
Is it cause and effect?
No more dates, thought Sherlock. No more snogs, mistletoe-provoked or not.
HEY!
He could surely live without John. He would start as soon as he’d delivered John his eggs.
That's a bad start. Good!
Because if he didn’t walk away from John now, John would sooner or later walk away from him.
Exactly what John thinks about him. Gaah, you idiots!
Wow, this chapter. I really didn't see Moriarty coming. I love the conversation on the roof, so chaste but so full of love. And now I can't wait to see how long Sherlock will be able to keep his resolution. Not very long, I hope! :-)