Prompt 1
Moonlight
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The sun was sinking low behind the clouds as Sherlock sat on the steps in front of his flat. In his haste to get to Scotland Yard that morning, he had forgotten his house keys.
He thought to call John, but the detectives phone was dead. He hoped the doctor would come home quickly, but it was doubtful. He would only now be getting off work. Did he have a date tonight? In that case, he might be gone all night. Why, oh why, hadn't Sherlock listened that morning when John was babbling about his daily plans?! Oh, right. Because the consulting detective had been too focused on John's adorable lips and the way his hair glinted just so in the sunlight. Sherlock had known for a while that he was crushing on John, but he knew the doctor was straight and so Sherlock kept it to himself. Anyway, love was just a chemical defect and Holmes refused to let it get the better of him.
He sat on the curb, in the moonlight, for several hours before he thought of Mrs. Hudson. But, no, she was with her sister for the week so she couldn't let him in. He mumbled to himself and settled into his Mind Palace, wandering here and there until a loud cough interrupted his thoughts.
"John?" he asked, looking up at the confused blogger. It appeared to be about 2am and Sherlock didn't want to think about where John had been all night, or who with. "Sherlock, what are you doing? Have you forgot your keys again?" The doctor shot him a smirk and began to get out his own set. Sherlock moved aside on the curb to let John open the door. But, the key refused to fit and John grew frustrated.
"Gah!" he cried out as he plopped down on the step next to the detective. John sighed and they sat in silence for almost two hours. Then, John stirred and glanced at his watch. "Jesus, Sherlock," he said, exhausted, "it's bloody 4am." With that, John rested his head on Sherlock's strong shoulder and tried to doze off. The detective hardly seemed to notice, but inside he was having a panic attack.
"Why is John lying on me? Does he... like me? No, that's impossible. He's just tired and I'm being a good friend. He sighed inwardly. Right, a good friend. I suppose that's all I'll ever be.
When he couldn't sleep, John turned his eyes up to study the taller man. His perfectly etched cheekbones and lust-worthy Cupid bow lips were highlighted perfectly in the fading moonlight. He looked towards his eyes and finally noticed Sherlock's piercing blue-green eyes were boring holes in him.
The doctor blushed and removed his head from Sherlock's shoulder. However, the detective just leaned a bit closer to him. John's breath hitched in his throat as Sherlock leaned ever closer until they were practically touching noses. Now or never, Watson. He told himself.
He quietly closed the gap between them. Finally, FINALLY, he was kissing Sherlock. Had he not realized how much he truly wanted this? Sherlock pried John's lips open to allow his tongue entrance. John obliged and let out a soft moan as the detective's tongue laced by his own. The kiss was beautiful. It was sweet and lustful and over too soon.
They broke apart to breathe, but kept their foreheads touching. Their eyes were locked together. Sherlock reached a hand up and lovingly held John's cheek. "Mmm," he hummed, not losing eye contact with his blogger, "maybe it's not a disadvantage."
A small chuckle escaped John's mouth as he tenderly held a fistful of Sherlock's hair and pushed their lips together again.
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(・ω・)ノ
