June 18-19, 2012

[not_a_hero]

Sherlock: *Sherlock goes to John's room one day after class. He's exhausted and go~d he hates this job somedays.*

John : *John is sitting in the large chair by his window reading, glasses perched on his nose and his book balanced on his crossed leg, glancing up when he hears the door shut with obvious resentment.* Did someone melt a cauldron again?

Sherlock : No. They were just.. there. *He helps himself to John's bed, flopping down on it face first.* Is it summer yet?

John : *John lets out a snort, closing his book and turning in his chair to look at the other man.* How old are you again? *He teases good-naturedly*

Sherlock : Don't know. Not important. Lost count.

John : *John laughs openly, setting his book on his chair side table, standing and making his way over to the bedside, bending over and bracing his hands on either side of Sherlock's head, ducking his head to press a kiss to the skin visible on the back of Sherlock's neck between his curls and robes.* Well then, have you narrowed down where we're going once school's out?

Sherlock : *Sherlock's smirk comes out as a small, pleased hum.* Mm. Yes. America has a few interesting muggle cases but the wizarding world in Romania is very busy with some strange sightings

John : *John draws his nose against the skin he's kissed and into Sherlock's hair* Well, do you want to do things without magic or 'wands out' as it were?

Sherlock : I'm about sick of magic but America's quite the journey. *He turns his head to the side to look at him.* You going to want to stop by and see your sister this year?

John : *John leans back so they can look at one another properly, expression apologetic* I should. I'd only need to be there a couple of days at most, though.

Sherlock : Oh, I know. You'll both be very pleasant for the first day but anything more than three--two and a half, really--and it's down to petty arguments. I don't mind. Who's she with now? Oh, god, not single, is she? I hate Single!Harry. We are not getting dragged to another gay bar.

John :... *John snorts back a laugh* No, no... She's with a woman named Shannon right now. Though I think after last time she's taken it as a personal challenge to get you into a club again. Drunk and dancing, I think was what she said.

Sherlock : Yes, because last time we such a thrilling success. *grumble grumble* Two and a half days then on to... somewhere they don't serve rainbow colored drinks and talk about marriage laws.

John : So California is out of the question. *He chuckles, petting Sherlock's hair as he moves to stand properly and stretch*

Sherlock : God, just find me a place on earth that won't be boring. *watches John move.* Any requests?

John : I haven't been to Romania in a while. But if there's any time to travel to America it's during summer holiday. *He made his way back over to his book, only to mark the page properly and put it back on his shelf.*

Sherlock : *Sherlock rolls over on his side to make room on the bed beside him. So very subtle.*

John : *John catches the hint and, with a fond smile, he toes off his nice, shined work shoes and crawls into bed, ignoring his work uniform and glasses for now, poised over the other man* You're quite the manipulator, Professor.

Sherlock : Well, how else am I supposed to get any work done? *pulls him down by his jacket collar for a quick kiss.* If we finish up in America before break is over, we'll take the flight to Romania before coming here for term.

John : *John ducks back down for another kiss, shifting his weight* Mmm... I like that plan.

Sherlock : You've left your glasses on. You only leave them on when you're not reading when you think I'll take a bit of extra satisfaction in seeing you appear all knowledgeable and nerdy.

John :...*John's mouth twitches in both bemusement and slight sheepishness, lifting one hand to touch the frames* Caught me. Is it working?

Sherlock : Less than the dog tags but their certainly welcome. You look like the sort of man people trust implicitly.

John : Well, you /did/ say you liked me in my uniform the other day. Figured the glasses added to the look.

Sherlock : *smirk* Guess I like uniforms in general.

John : *He smirks back, smoothly straddling the other man on his hands and knees.* Is that a 'subtle' request for me to get my military uniform out again?

Sherlock : Sure. You can pack it and bring it to your sister's. It'll certainly be the most inventive way of making her mind her own business.

John : You're horrible. *He tries to look stern, but quite fails.*

Sherlock : *rests his hands on John's thighs* Just a bit.

John : *He plucks the glasses off his nose and tucks them into his jacket pocket.* But I do believe we owe her for when she brought home that girl from the club. I'll think about it.

Sherlock : The screamer? God, yes. I could have gone without that memory. How are you related to her exactly? Which of you is the genetic fluke?

John : *John jokingly winces at the memory.* Probably me, if I had to guess. She's so much like my father sometimes it's scary.

Sherlock : Then you are my favorite example of evolution gone right. One mutant creation deviating from the genetic norm to create the perfect man.

John : *John snorts, sitting gently onto Sherlock's lap when his shoulder starts to ache* Oh, hardly perfect, Sherlock. And I won't even start the list as to why.

Sherlock : I wouldn't hear of it anyway. My definition; my qualifiers.

John : I think that's considered cheating.

Sherlock : I don't cheat, I use my senses. And a fair bit of distraction. *He plays with the buttons on John's shirt.*

John : *John catches one of his hands and kisses his palm, talking against those long fingers* Oh, I'm quite familiar with your distraction. But in this case I think your senses might be a tad biased.

Sherlock : Of course I'm biased. It's my life; I'm the main character. I get to have things the way I want them.

John : Is that so? *chuckles against his palm* And how do you want this, then, main character?

Sherlock : *moves his hand to caress John's cheek affectionatly.* Honestly? I'm happy with just the view.

John : ... *He smiles, a mix between shyness and absolute adoration on his face as he leans into Sherlock's hand just slightly, cupping it with his own hand* ...I can work with that.

Sherlock : *Sherlock tugs on his shirt with his free hand. Get down here.*


John : *John leans down, tangling the fingers of their brushing hands together as he does and nuzzles his nose against Sherlock's, barely brushing their mouths against each other.*
Sherlock : *Sherlock closes that distance, kissing John as his other hand winds around his back.*

John : *John slides his free hand up to cup Sherlock's neck as they slowly kiss, tilting his head just so to change the angle.*

Sherlock : *Sherlock holds tight to their interlocked fingers, pulling out the tuck of John's shirt with his other.*

John : *John grunts and smiles into the kiss, dragging his hand down Sherlock's neck in a soft caress as he finds the top buttons of his robes and the shirt underneath, thumbing them through their holes slowly.*

Sherlock : *Sherlock is a little annoyed at wizard clothing. You'd think, living aside the developed world, they'd have accepted a less layered dress code. It's worth the struggle, though. He wants John's warm skin, the scars and hair and all the unique parts that clothes try and mask. The best part of John in his nice clothes is John halfway out of them.
Once the tuck is askew and half pulled he runs his hand up under it, his fingers cold against John's back and side.*

John : *John shivers and arches against the cool touch like a cat, humming into Sherlock's mouth as he unclasps the robes from the potion master's neck and shoves it off his shoulders, gliding his hands appreciatively down Sherlock's clothed chest and attacking the buttons on his (rather tight) shirt from the bottom.*

Sherlock : *Well, at least John agrees. Muggle clothes > Wizzard clothes. Sherlock wiggles, not making it any easier, as he loops his fingers under the waist of John's trousers, working on the button there.*

John : *For some reason, perhaps due to experience in the act of undressing one Sherlock Holmes, John has to break the kiss as a small giggle escapes him, and it continues even as he kisses along Sherlock's jaw apologetically. His hands slide down again over the skin he's already exposed from the shirt and caresses appreciatively over Sherlock's stomach.*

Sherlock : Why are you laughing? *though the very sound of John laughing makes it hard for him not to feel one teetering on his own lips.*

John : Just thinking that this whole undressing part hasn't gotten any easier. *He chuckled, nibbling on Sherlock's bottom lip*

Sherlock : *Sherlock can't contain the deep, rumble of a chuckle.* No. No it hasn't.

John : Here, why don't I-- *He starts, shifting his weight and trying to rise up onto his knees again to make things easier, trying to shove off his work overcoat between ducking down to kiss against Sherlock's throat where the wonderful rumble of his laugh came from.*

Sherlock : *Sherlock continues to laugh because god, this is hopeless.* John, we are wearing more than the bed. This is a disaster.

John : *John can't help it, he ducks down and presses his head against Sherlock's shoulder, laughing as his coat hangs off one arm and the rest of his clothes are in a similar state of disarray.* We're quite hopeless, I'm afraid... *He gasps between his giggling.*

Sherlock : *Sherlock leans his cheek against his head as he laughs.* Remind me to talk to Professor Heart about dress code reform.

John : Though do leave out the parts where we want it just so we can relieve each other of said uniforms. I don't doubt she already knows, but I'd like to keep the headmaster out of our more intimate affairs. *He muttered, grinning against Sherlock's shoulder.*

Sherlock : *Sherlock kisses his head between chuckles.* I love you.

John : *John sighs happily, closing his eyes as he settles against the other man, rumples clothes and all, clinging to his sides in the best attempt at a hug or a cuddle he can offer in this position.* I love you too, you beautiful, fantastic nutter.

Sherlock : *Sherlock runs his fingertips along John's neck and the back of his head, gently massaging his scalp while he circles through his short hair.*

John : *John relaxes even further, turning his head just slightly so it's resting more comfortably against Sherlock's shoulder, letting out a soft hum that is almost like a purr* 's nice.

Sherlock : It's meant to be.

John : Mmm... *He mutters with a soft grunt of appreciation. It's nice and relaxing and comfortable and despite the fervor of their kissing before he finds it would be quite possible to doze off like this.* ... Dinner inna bit?

Sherlock : If you're hungry. *This is one of his favorite things. Just laying around with John.*

John : *John lazily brings his hand up and cups the other side of Sherlock's jaw, brushing his fingers into the soft curls on the back of his neck. Their legs, now tangled together, shift just a bit in the comfortable bubble now surrounding them.* Mm, maybe. Don't really want to move now.

Sherlock : *Sherlock kisses his head again. Yeah, neither does he.*

John : *John sighs again at the kiss, nuzzling his nose sleepily against Sherlock's neck and collarbone in return.*

-After the Event Ends-

Sherlock : *Sherlock wakes up alone on his couch... and this might just be the most depressing morning he's had since the fall. His chest actively hurts with a phantom heart ache. He lays on the couch for a while, staring, trying to just swallow it down and not think about it. But it's 2 in the morning and he can't just go back to sleep no matter how much being awake is unpleasant. So he gets up and walks to John's room, letting himself in.*

John : *John twitches awake as his bedroom door opens, not moving as his gaze darts to the intruder on instinct. Just as quickly, his sleep fogged brain recognizes Sherlock's lean form through the doorway and allows him to relax. As awareness returns, and John's looks about the room, realization hits him. He's in his bed. His bed in the Wonderland mansion, not the castle of Hogwarts. And that, along with the illusion of magical abilities, so disappeared the illusion of a relationship between him and Sherlock. He didn't make a sound, nor a move, as he watched the other man, as he felt something that had to be heartache digging into his chest.*

Sherlock : *Sherlock looked at the bed and its occupant without a word, his eyes adjusted to the dark to see the sleepy figure of someone who in a dream world had been everything he'd ever wanted.. and who still was even in the real world, no matter how much he told himself to leave it. He was just too tired to argue with the hurt and the want. He laid down on top of the covers on the far side of the bed.*

John : *John let out a breath, which could have dissolved into something like a dry sob if he'd have allowed it. But he didn't. He was calmer then he could comprehend. Or perhaps it was empty? Instead, he watched the other man climb into bed with darting eyes. His hand that lay between the two of them twitched against the sheets with a desire to reach out and cling, to find that comfort he had so easily indulged in just a few hours ago but that he dare not take again now. This was more than a stupid kiss between best friends; losing that closeness so suddenly was like losing a limb. But Sherlock looked like a cornered animal, ready to flee from his huddle on John's bed at the slightest wrong word.*

Sherlock : *Sherlock caught the twitching fingers in the darkness with his eyes and slowly ghosted his own hand nearer his, wondering silently in his mind if his hand would be warm or cool, rough or soft, knowing it would feel exactly as it had felt during the event and knowing how nice that was. He stroked his fingers gently over John's hand, following the groves of his upturned palm with only the softest of touch.*

John : *John held his breath at the almost tickling, gentle caress. In the world they had just left, it would have been a precursor for far more confident, loving touches but here in reality it was probably the most focused, intimate interaction they'd shared in a long time--both seeking an echo of that completion they'd only just experienced. John let his hand lay still, since he'd already overstepped his boundaries with the kiss just a few short days ago, and his consent for the moment was simply in the lock of his eyes and allowing Sherlock's careful exploration to continue as opposed to returning the touch. For now, at least.*

Sherlock : *with no twitch to shake him and no movement to dissuade, Sherlock laid his hand on John's, curling his fingers around to hold on to just this bit of John with some vague hope it will satisfy the hurt in him.*

John : *He lets out his held breath far louder then he intended, but his fingers curl a little around Sherlock's in return, just enough to whisper 'stay' with their intent. John closes his eyes, trying to call back a memory from their other lives where they maybe laid like this in ease and comfort but it was like trying to fall back into a good dream--impossible and rapidly fading away.*

Sherlock : *Sherlock was never So glad to feel the twitch of fingers as he felt John accept his hold. He pulled the hands closer to his side of the bed, as close as he could without pulling on more than just his hand. He rested his forehead against his curled knuckles, taking deep breaths with his eyes he’d shut.* I'm tired, John.

John : *John held on a little tighter, eventually slowly opening his eyes to watch Sherlock. Somehow he knew the exhaustion the other man was talking about wasn't just physical.* ...Rest here, then. *He muttered, swallowing thickly.* If you'd like.

Sherlock : *Sherlock nodded. He would like that very much. He thought perhaps he should ask if he could keep the hand for now, but the strength of John's grasp already answered his question. For as long as he needed and then some, John would let him have these small requests. John understood. That shared knowledge brought no solace this time. The hollow twinge inside was not something he wanted to be reciprical.*

John (: *Whatever this event had changed between the two of them, John wasn't quite sure. But the desperate hint of the cling of their hands was equidistant to the space between the rest of their bodies; and he could physically feel the phrase 'so close and yet so far' in every definition of their states. John squeezed Sherlock's hand, just once, trying to convey every inch of the hold he wanted to wrap the other man in, the hold they'd had on one another just a day ago, with the press of his fingers.* Vulnera Sanentur... *He mouthed into the dark, wishing the healing spell (a spell used to heal deep gashes, his fading memory of another life supplied, not quite for gashes in the heart, but close enough) still held some sort of value in this reality.*

Sherlock : *Sherlock sleeps for a long time, his grip on John's hand hardly loosening through the hours as his unconscious mind does all the honors of reminding him of what never truly was.*

John : *John, a light sleeper when troubled, continues to wake up throughout the night, as if his body needs him to confirm it really is Sherlock grasping his hand. And when he does, when he watched Sherlock's relaxed expression for a while, he dozes back off, not daring to move his hand nor truly wanting to.*

Sherlock : *Come morning, Sherlock is reluctant to let go. But with the night now gone, he cannot excuse clinging on to false sentiment. He slowly uncurls his fingers from around John's hand and sits up.*

John : *John has awoken in an instant, though still rather exhausted from poor rest, and lies still with his eyes closed. He can feel the other man still sitting on his bed and that makes his throat tight.*

Sherlock : *Sherlock watches him for just a moment before standing up and heading back to his room. The event is over, the need to hold on to that feeling of happiness... it's there but it's not so raw. It's time to just... go back to normal.*

John : *When he hears the other man head to the door, John curls his fingers onto themselves, as if he can find the ghost or warmth of the other's hand there. Opening his eyes, he looks over the rumpled sheets with a vague ache building in his cheeks and jaw. He clenches his teeth together, keeping back any sort of call he wants to make. He couldn't ask for more from Sherlock, like pleasestayplease. Not with the way things were right now.*


*RP-ed via AIM by Niko and Em