Four Continents Watson (Johnlock)

Chapter 4

John could only smile to himself as he watched Sherlock shake out a big blanket, and spread it out over the thick grass. It was in a perfect spot; well away from other people in the park, and with dappled shade from a nearby tree.

With a small grin, Sherlock waved John onto the blanket, and sat near him, cross-legged. He leaned in, kissing John lightly, looking happy and excited.

It was Sherlock's day again to plan what they would do, and he had them wandering through the Old City, and then around an art museum. John had been very interested in the art from the arctic people, The Inuit, admiring the many soapstone sculptures of polar bears, seals and hunters in traditional parkas. They strolled along a street with many outdoor cafes and boutiques, and Sherlock had John sit on a park bench while he ducked into a bistro. He came out with a picnic basket and led John over to the huge park nearby.

"Do you trust me?" Sherlock grinned down at John.

One side of John's mouth curled up, a hundred joking answers coming to him. "Hmmm....I trust you to be rude to about half the people we come across. Trust you to fill our fridge with scary body parts. Trust you to make me laugh at the most inappropriate times." Like when they had gone to a funeral for a case, sitting in the back row to see if a suspect attended the service. Sherlock had been a little bored and kept whispering snarky comments into John's ear, until he had to turn and hiss at the berk to shut up.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, giving an impatient huff. He pulled out a long strip of black fabric from his pocket, showing it to John. "I thought we could make this picnic a little more interesting...if you trust me, and let me tie this blindfold on you."

A shiver of heat went along John's skin, and he nodded at Sherlock. Showing he wanted it, he closed his eyes, sitting still while Sherlock tied the fabric in place.

Sherlock gave a small groan, tilting John's chin up to kiss him. "Mmmm...you look good." There was a scratchy timbre to his deep voice, a signal he was affected by this as well.

John heard him moving away, his imagination working to match the small sounds with what Sherlock was doing. Being blindfolded, he was more aware of the feel of the light breeze over his face, ruffling his hair. The warmth of the sun on his skin. The low buzz of awareness he had around Sherlock constantly now.

Everything seemed to be adding up. Bumping legs under the breakfast table, fingers touching when John handled Sherlock a coffee refill, holding hands as they explored the city. All these little touches, small exchanged glances...the only word for it was romance. It was more than just lust, or the thrill of trying something he never had done before. Everything was tinted by the feelings he had for Sherlock, the years of special moments between them. It was all coming together.

Something smooth pressed against his lips, and John jumped a little in surprise.

Sherlock chuckled. "Time to show if you trust me now. Open up."

John did so, and Sherlock pushed a cool sphere into his mouth. Biting down, John tasted the sweet juice. "Mmmm, a grape."

Something else was pressed against his lips, and he accepted it. It was a cube of creamy cheese. It was followed by a small piece of fresh buttered bread, grape tomatoes, a slice of cucumber. Everything tasty and fresh, the flavours perhaps even better because he was focused on each bite.

He could hear Sherlock eating as well, feeding himself as John chewed. It was lazy and sensual, enjoying the food, the park, just being together.

"Lie down." Sherlock said eventually.

John was feeling pleasantly full from the tasty lunch. He stretched out along the blanket, and felt Sherlock lying down beside him. He lifted his hands to take off the blindfold.