The Thrill of the Chase (Johnlock/Mystrade Teen!Lock)

Chapter Thirty

Chapter 30

John's POV

I held Sherlock as tight as I could as his bare body shivered, his head buried into the crook of my neck while his curls tickled my nose.

Neither of us got anymore sleep after that. We lay there in silence, appreciating that we had each other.

Later on, Greg came and banged on the door to get us to get up. "Fuck off, Lestrade," Sherlock said in a singsong voice, seemingly back to his old self.

Greg's footsteps got quieter as he walked off, and Sherlock got up out of the bed, giving me an appreciable view of his arse and muscular back. He scratched the back of his head and stretched, clearly knowing I was watching.

With raised eyebrows, he turned to face me, a smirk playing at his lips. "Take a picture, babe, it'll last longer."

"Will it?" I asked him, getting up and, wrapping my arms around his back from behind, I softly kissed his neck.

"John?"

"Mhm?" I replied, continuing to kiss him slowly and gently.

"You're poking me."

"Does that bother you?"

Sherlock spun in my arms to face me. "Not at all," he murmured, his hands on my waist, moving in slowly to kiss me.

A knock at the door made us step back, and Sherlock went and unlocked the door, seeming to have forgotten he was stark naked. "Lestrade, I swear..." Sherlock's voice trailed off as he flung the door open to earn a groan from the other side.

"Shit, Sherlock!" Greg cried, shielding his eyes, "Can you put some clothes on?! I mean, some pants, at least!"

"What brings you this way, Gavin?" Sherlock asked, putting on a flamboyant voice as he played on Greg's embarrassment.

"It's Greg, Sherlock, Greg. Gavin makes me sound like a porn star. Myc-" Greg cleared his throat as he stepped closer to the door as students walked past, shielding their view of my impressive boyfriend, and also fixing his mistake. "Mr. Holmes has sent me around to tell all of you that we are going on a bush walk, and to dress appropriately."

"By 'all of you' you mean, 'specifically Sherlock', yes?"

Greg smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Alright, thank you." Sherlock closed the door in Greg's face and turned to me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What are you up to?" I asked him suspiciously.

"Why must I be up to something, John?"

"Because you were civilised towards Greg just now. You wouldn't be like that without reason."

"Ah, you'll see," Sherlock winked at me, grabbed some clothes and went into the bathroom to get dressed.

I myself put on my t-shirt and shorts, upon seeing that it was a hot, sunny day.

"John?!" Sherlock called out to me from the bathroom.

"Yeah?"

"You go on ahead to get breakfast. I'll meet you there."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Well, okay," I said suspiciously, before going down to the restaurant for breakfast. The rest of our group were already there, the males dressed similarly to me while the females wore singlets and tiny shorts that could've past off as pants.

Mycroft sat beside Greg, wearing a tight white t-shirt which outlined every muscle in his upper body, and he wore his black shorts that had the female population of the camp drooling.

"Where is my dearest brother?" Mycroft asked me as I sat down with my breakfast.

"He told me he'd meet me here," I told Mycroft.

Mycroft groaned as he looked past me, and I turned to see Sherlock walking into the room, clad in suit, coat and scarf.

Sherlock sat beside me and smiled at me, completely aware of the glare Mycroft was sending him. "Have I missed much?"

"Sherlock, may I trouble you for a private word?" Mycroft asked my boyfriend through gritted teeth.

Sherlock winked at me as he and Mycroft walked out of the room. The whole place had gone silent as we all watched the two striking characters leave the room, curious to know what was happening.

About ten minutes later, after conversation had started flowing again, Mycroft marched into the room again and sat beside Greg once more, with an infuriated expression on his face that he didn't bother masking.

Sherlock strolled in behind him, now in a t-shirt and shorts, a defiant smile playing at his lips. He sat next to me and subtly rested his hand on my thigh.

"What happened?" I asked Sherlock.

"He literally forced me to change my outfit and threw a tantrum for not listening to him."

I couldn't help but chuckle at my boyfriends smug expression, and I knew he had won whatever fight he and Mycroft had had.

After a delicious, wholesome breakfast, we immediately set out on our bush walk. Sherlock and I stood at the back, about ten metres behind the next group of people ahead of us.

We had backpacks with food and water, and Sherlock brought his camera along, though I didn't know why. Sherlock had never really been into nature or photography, but he said he had something in mind, and for me to not worry my 'pretty little head'. Yeah, those were really Sherlock's words, not my own.

The trees grew high and leaves were bright upon the branches. Sherlock admired Mother Earth's creations, and I must admit, I had never seen him in such a way. He looked so content, so peaceful, and I loved this new side of him.

Birds and insects chirped in the surrounding trees and scrub, and aside from the constant complaints from the girls, it was very pleasant. It was all very uphill and downhill, and I could feel the muscles in my legs contracting wonderfully as we walked.

After a four hour walk, or four hours and thirty seven minutes as Sherlock deduced, we reached our prize.

A huge, magnificent waterfall flowed over the rock face, splashing into a large natural pool about eight hundred metres below.

There was a little cottage type thing around another corner where we would eat lunch, but as I followed everyone else around there, Sherlock pulled me back.

"What are you doing?" I asked once everyone had gone, the teachers casting us a suspicious glance as they left too.

Sherlock pulled out his camera, and told me to stand by the waterfall. He got a few pictures of just me first, acting like a photographer saying things like 'work it, baby,' which left me in giggling fits.

Sherlock then stood beside me, and pointed the camera towards us. "Smile," he told me. As Sherlock took the picture, he kissed me on the cheek. When he pulled away and showed the picture, I almost cried.

Sherlock was smiling as his lips met my cheek, and his eyes were closed. His arm rested around my shoulder, and I had the hugest grin on my face. Never had I seen myself so genuinely ecstatic just with my life. The picture Sherlock took was so raw. It was a painting of how we were together. A picture paints a thousand words, and in that case the words were all happy, bright, bubbly ones.

He grinned at me before turning off his camera and putting it away. We went to the little cottage type thing and went to have lunch with our peers.

The cottage was made of white brick, and practically every piece of furniture and piece of crockery dated back to the eighteenth century.

As we ate, Sherlock told me about the history of the building, and told me interesting facts about the place.

In my happy little world, I felt nothing but love for my high-functioning sociopath boyfriend, Sherlock William Holmes.