Sweets - BBC Sherlock (Johnlock)

Revenge is a dish best served over dinner - Extra Chapter Three - FIN

The two brothers sat at a square table, facing John's way and waiting for him to resume walking. Sherlock raised a questioning eyebrow, knowing perfectly well why John had stopped dead in his track.  It couldn't mean any good for him when Sherlock invited Mycroft to dinner. Of his own volition. No, that definitely didn't mean any good. And dear good! Sherlock wore his purple shirt and was it John's imagination or did it seem even tighter than usual? The buttons looked as if they would give up their purpose any moment now. Barely holding it together, threatening to rip open with every breath Sherlock took. 

Kissing Sherlock in public over dinner wouldn't be overly embarrassing for John. No one would know him.  Sherlock must have known this and that's why invited Mycroft as well. The consulting detective knew that John would try his hardest in front of the older Holmes to remain a poker face while Sherlock would try to break this barrier and make John lose control. Just as Sherlock did over his case and his mind.

Now was definitely not the right time nor the right place to stand and gawk dumbstruck at now smirking consulting detective. John started to move and took his seat opposite of Sherlock. 

"Hello, Mycroft" John smiled and tried not to let his eyes roam over Sherlock's tight shirt and his partly visible, white chest that showed through the stretched "What a surprise to see you here! I didn't know that Sherlock invited you"

"Good evening, John" Mycroft replied politely and looked over at his brother "Actually it was me who invited Sherlock to have dinner with me last week, but he declined" Mycroft made a face at the last part and Sherlock rolled his eyes. "So, imagine my surprise when Sherlock called me today and told me that he would be willed to have dinner with me under the condition that you join as well" He should have noticed when the car came to get him. It had obviously been one of Mycroft's cars. John could practically hear Sherlock saying 'You see, John but you do not observe'.

After exchanging a few more courtesies with Mycroft the waiter came over with red wine, Mycroft had ordered and the menu. It was in French. He would just order the same as the consulting detective as he didn't understand anything except spaghetti. John glanced over to Sherlock and regretted it immediately. He had raised the glass to his mouth with wine and the sleeve of his shirt was rode up, revealing his pale wrist. There was a droplet of the red liquid on his lips which he absentmindedly licked off and traced the outlines of them with his tongue, wetting them in the process. All the while staring straight at John, but the good doctor didn't return his gaze. John's eyes were glued to those full, pink lips. He wanted to bend forward and press his mouth onto them so badly. Mycroft cleared his throat.  John's head snapped around to look at the other who examined him with a raised brow and an amused smile around his lips.

"I was asking if you have problems with the menu. Your file said that you can't speak French" Sherlock chuckled silently and that was probably the most frightening thing John had seen in a while. The two bothers actually being on the same wave length and not throwing snippy remarks at each other. Or Sherlock trying his hardest to irritate his brother for that matter.  

 "No, I'm just fine with the menu, thank you very much and I'll take the spaghetti" John replied as politely as he managed, narrowing his eyes slightly. It kind of seemed as if Mycroft had done it on purpose. No, not only kind of. It absolutely seemed so. Mycroft could have just ordered something right away, just like he did with the wine. That would fit his character. Instead he waited for the menu, knowing perfectly that John didn't understand anything on this bloody card.

Was it possible that the two of them were in this together? It was a matter of course that Mycroft knew that they weren't mere flat mates or friends anymore. After all he was the British government. The more important question was, did he know about Sherlock's plan to take revenge on him for disturbing his work purposefully? Who was he kidding here? Of course Mycroft knew that as well! The next question John had to ask himself was if he wanted to let Sherlock make him squirm the rest of the evening until John wouldn't be able to take it anymore. That was more than just quite possible. Or if he could bury his pride and just let Sherlock have his victory and surrender to his sodding seduction skills right here and now, because Sherlock had returned to look at him with that intense stare of his grayish eyes. It looked like a starving man seeing his favorite food and if they weren't a couple, this look could very well be regarded as sexual harassment. John could feel a faint blush creeping up his neck and prayed that it wouldn't reach his face.

In a desperate attempt to distract himself from the hungry looks Sherlock was giving him he began to study the prices. They were shockingly high! This whole dinner would cost more than John's monthly salary was. He could still feel Sherlocks intense stare and swallowed, his face heating up even more.

"Are you feeling unwell, John? Your face is red" Mycroft said in a caring voice that sounded convincingly real if it wasn't for the knowing undertone.

"No, it's just a tad too warm in here" John straightened himself. He wouldn't throw his pride away and admit defeat in front of Sherlock's brother. No, absolutely not.

After the waiter had brought their dishes, John tried his hardest to not pay any attention to Sherlock. Don't look at him. Don't look at him. John told himself over and over again like a mantra. Sherlock's gaze never left his face, but he didn't to look up. He could do this. It was just dessert left after that. He could do this. Just don't look at him.

Suddenly Sherlock's foot grazed over his thigh and John jumped and took a sharp intake of breath, but miraculously managed to keep his eyes on the plate. Sherlock moved his foot higher and higher up John's tight until it was dangerously near his crotch and then downward again just to repeat the same agonizing motion again and again. Damn his foot!  

John didn't dare to move, fearing where Sherlock's foot might end up staying for the rest of the dinner if he would. One problem was enough.  He couldn't have something else standing up for the rest of the evening too.

The two brothers chatted over old cases, completely keeping him out of their conversation and for that John was more than glad as he wasn't even trying to pay attention.  John wasn't sure how long he would be able to restrain himself, before he would lose it. Maybe he would choke on his noodles first. It was an incredible hard task to twist them around his fork, aim for his mouth and then chew. Kind of a waste that he didn't get to taste them properly. His mouth had gone dry and his breathing was slowly but surely getting more and more irregular.

Mycroft was the first to empty his plate and told the waiter to prepare their dessert. Vanilla ice cream cake with strawberries. When the waiter arrived with the cake, Sherlock withdrew his foot from John's thigh as quickly as he had placed it there and John made the same mistake again. He looked at Sherlock. Their gazes locked and he was immediately captivated by those eyes. John swallowed hard as Sherlock took a bite of the dessert, smearing a bit of the white cream on his lips in the process and then licked it off. Taking another bite. Smearing some of the cream on his lips. Licking it off. Taking another bite. And then John snapped. He couldn't take it anymore. He deserved a bloody medal for having endured this so long! John almost leaped up from his chair and grabbed Sherlock's collar, pulling the consulting detective towards him before he bend down and licked the damn cream off those smirking lips.

........

Started a new story, it's called 'Missing Piece'. Check it out if you liked this one. It's Johnlock as well. A casefic with a bit of angst and code you can try to solve yourself.