A/N a stupid short fic in which Sherlock pretends to be Smaug. Just thought it would be fun to write. Enjoy!! <3
John was regretting making Sherlock watch the Hobbit movies. Sherlock had fallen in love with Smaug and was always trying to scare John by acting like the dragon. One night he even woke up to find Sherlock in his room, breathing deeply and growling. Today, while they were at a crime scene Sherlock was trying to convince Lestrade that the killer was the deceased's wife. The woman in question couldn't have been any taller than five feet. When John asked him how he knew it was the wife, Sherlock leaned in close and growled: "I know the smell and taste of dwarf." Now they were in the flat and Sherlock was grumbling about how incredibly rude John was for dragging him away from the crime scene.
"Sherlock, you can't just call people dwarves!"
"Why can't I?"
"Because it is rude, she wasn't a dwarf."
"I know she wasn't, I was just having some fun."
"I know, but you can't just say things like that." Sherlock looked at John, stubbornness in his eyes. His friend looked so frustrated with his antics, so he gave in.
"I'm sorry John. I won't do that anymore." John blanched, shocked that Sherlock gave in so easily, but pleased that he wouldn't be embarrassed when they leave the flat. He nodded and shuffled into the kitchen to make some tea.
The days went by and Sherlock had stopped acting like Smaug completely. John was shocked by the fact that he genuinely missed the detective's antics. He watched the thin man, lying stretched out on the sofa. He looked more bored than ever. He had been irritable since John told him to stop quoting Smaug, and it was getting frustrating. John had a plan, but he felt rather ridiculous going forward with it. He waited until Sherlock was in the kitchen working on his experiments. He came up behind his flatmate and tried to channel every ounce of hobbit-ness he had within him.
"I did not come to steal from you, O Smaug the Unassessably Wealthy." Sherlock froze at those words.
"John, what are you doing?" He knew those words.
"I merely wanted to gaze upon your magnificence, to see if you-"
"John, what is happening?"
"-really were as great as the old tales say. I did not believe them." Sherlock turned slowly, barely containing the smirk that traced over his face. John was playing with him, pretending to be the hobbit Bilbo. He glanced down at his flatmate, whose cheeks were flushed and whose hands were clenching and unclenching with embarrassment. His eyes pleaded for Sherlock to participate, so he obliged, stepping closer to his friend, he dropped his voice to a deep growl.
"And do you? Now?" John smirked at Sherlock, a chill running down his spine as Sherlock spoke. He made an effort to stay in character as he stepped ever closer to John.
"Truly, tales and songs fall utterly short of your enormity, O Smaug the Stupendous."
"Do you think flattery will keep you alive?" Sherlock walked closer than before, causing John to back against the counter.
"N-no, no-"
"No, indeed!" He was pressed against John now, his warm breath spilling across the shorter man's face. They stood there, frozen for a moment, both breathing in each other's scent. Sherlock grinned and backed away from John, looking pleased with our little exchange. "I must say John, you make an even better hobbit than I imagined."
"Wait, you imagined me as the hobbit?" He saw a blush creeping up the pale man's cheeks. "Well then, Smaug, until next time." He winked at Sherlock and walked from the kitchen, leaving behind a flustered and excited Sherlock.
