gay one shots | ✔️

shot twenty-seven: wine (sheriarty)

A/N: I don't like how this turned out but this summer holiday I've really been fanboying over BBC Sherlock an awful lot sooooo....

Sherlock embraced the cool spring air as he walked out of 221B, a small smile stuck on his face. This time, John didn't have to walk out with him, no one had to walk out with him into an awaiting cab, no one was there trying to annoy the living hell out of Sherlock. No cameras, no reporters, no journalists, no one. In fact, Sherlock had to wait for a cab for a couple minutes.

John had chuckled to himself when Sherlock had told him where he was going, but taking note of the little smile and dancing eyes, he'd assumed that Sherlock wasn't lying and that he was actually excited to be going on a date, even if it was—much to John's surprise—with the one and only Jim Moriarty himself.

Even though John wasn't with him right now asking him if he was ready, John had been with him a minute ago, asking him if he was ready to... well, ready to do the thing he'd had on the bottom of his list for what he'd ever expected to happen. The otherwise emotionally inept brunette had spent at least half an hour just picking out a tie when John had reminded him that those were not his ties, they were John's—since he never even wore a tie; he kept the first few buttons undone. Sherlock had then looked at him for about five seconds, and then bit his lip, and they'd had a nice laugh.

John, at first, had, of course, asked Sherlock if he was being serious, and when he was met with what looked like a genuine answer, he was shocked, no, appalled, realising about an hour later that if that's what made Sherlock happy, it was better than him sulking around all day without a case to solve, or sneaking cigs, or even buying his rent money's worth of cocaine—or "snow" as the detective in question liked to refer to it as.

So now, John was watching out of their window alongside Mrs Hudson, just waiting for the cab to come. Sherlock checked his watch, and looked up, letting the first cab pass by.

Mrs Hudson's eyebrows scrunched alongside John's, and then she turned to look at John, glancing back again at the road a few times, looking between the window and John.

"Wait, John, dear, I thought you were with Sher—"

"Mrs Hud-suhnnn..." John whined, watching Sherlock letting another cab drive by, watching as Sherlock checked his watch once more.

"John, dear, don't give me that attitude," Mrs Hudson murmured as she turned her attention back to Sherlock. "You two were together, weren't you? ...Oh, come on, admit it," she said when he was unresponsive.

"No... we were never a...we never had a... a thing..." he finally responded, his cheeks turning red.

"I can tell when you're lying, you know," Mrs Hudson wrapped an arm around the short bloke as he grinned sheepishly.

"Yeah, but then Mary came along, and he could tell that our fling was, like, not a thing anymore," he mumbled as a cab pulled up to the curb without Sherlock having to hail it. "And plus, I could tell that he was head over heels for Jim even before they faked their deaths. You know there was a used condom on the top of that building when Moriarty pretended to shoot himse... wait, what the hell is he doing?" John broke off as he watched Sherlock climbing into the black car.

He'd climbed into the front seat.

"Oh, my, and he's going on a date?" Mrs Hudson bit her lip and one of her hands came up to her mouth, completely ignoring the fact that John had just told her about Sherlock's sex life. "Is he trying to pick up the driver?"

John's eyebrows were furrowed, but as soon as he registered what the landlady had said, he turned to her, accidentally knocking her arm off from around his shoulders. "Oh! Moriarty must have hijacked a cab somehow. And of course, Sherlock predicted he'd done it like that."