Love is a Much More Vicious Motivator (Teenlock AU)

Chapter 15

Hello!

It looks like it's only going to be a little baby chapterlet, this time. Like really, really, teeny tiny. But hey, mock exams are a bitch. I should be more regular with my updating...

I'm gonna thank @captainhighbottom and @lotspot for your comments, @TessPetterson for your bazillion votes, and @the_east_wind for votes and comments. ;) I love you all!

Please keep on with the vommenting, you guys rock!

~The Effect

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"So Chris, what you told us earlier, about being with Diana all night when Laura died, you were lying, weren't you?" Sherlock was getting down to business promptly, tearing into Chris. John felt a glimmer of sympathy towards his friend; having Sherlock grill you didn't look or sound pleasant. But mostly he was fixated on Sherlock's perfect mouth, the mouth which, though he couldn't quite believe it, he had been kissing moments earlier. John sighed dreamily and tried to cover it with a cough. Sherlock's gaze flickering in John's general direction informed him Sherlock knew exactly what that noise was.

"Why would I lie? There's no reason for me to." Even as he said this, Chris' gaze wavered, unable to maintain eye contact under Sherlock's scrutiny.

"We have two separate, unrelated statements that place you outside the building on that night. Alone. You couldn't have had Diana with you then, one of the people you passed would have seen."

"They must have been mistaken-"

"They weren't." Sherlock snarled. "So why don't you tell the truth now?"

Chris sighed, running a hand over his face, betraying just a hint of a tremor. "Iveta, Kelly, James. They all saw me. I knew you'd see through it. I told her, I said some people saw me, she told me to try."

"Chris, do you have any idea where Diana actually was?" John took control of the interview.

"She told me she was hacking the computers. She'd get into trouble if anyone knew," Chris pleaded, "So she asked if I'd cover for her. I said I'd tell you she was with me. Apparently one of the resident bitches had done something nasty to one of Diana's friends, so Di said she hacked the computer network to set things right. I told her I didn't want to know."

"And why should we believe you, now you've lied to us once?" Sherlock growled. John smiled at the use of 'us'.

"Because it's the truth, this time!" Chris summoned himself up to his full height. "I've got no reason to lie, but please don't tell any of the staff. If Di gets into trouble because of me, I'll never forgive myself."

Sherlock leaned towards Chris, a stormy look on his face, and despite his superior size, Chris shrank back, intimidated. "We'll have to see about that." Sherlock pivoted around on his heel and breezed away. John followed, walking alongside the detective.

Behind them, Chris' head slid into his hands and wondered how he had got into this mess.

At the top of the winding oak staircase, John stepped closer to Sherlock and gently intertwined their fingers. Sherlock stopped, staring down at their hands.

"We don't have to, if you don't want." John started to pull away, but Sherlock held firm, refusing to relinquish his grip.

"No, I like it. I always wondered why Svetlana and Tim do it so much, but I know why, now. I'll know if something happens to you straight away. You, John Watson, have found the answer to the one question I couldn't answer. And you've done so much more." John blushed.

"You're perfect, Sherlock Holmes." He fished his key out and unlocked their door, leaving Sherlock to stand speechlessly in the hallway.

Shaking his head, Sherlock followed John and kicked the door shut behind him. Before John could say a word Sherlock had his arms back around him, cradling him close to his chest. John slipped his arms around Sherlock's waist.

"I could get used to this." John purred, nestling into Sherlock's torso. They stood like that in the warmth of the sunbeams cheerfully streaming through their window.

John lifted his head from Sherlock's chest and slid one hand over the smooth plane of his neck, carding it into Sherlock's inky curls. Sherlock gazed down into John's eyes adoringly, resting his forehead against John's. Sherlock's hair tickled John's face, and he smiled so broadly he feared his face would split.

"You're so... right, John. I never knew how this would feel, but I'm feeling it for you." Sherlock whispered. "I don't want to stop feeling this."

"Me neither." John matched Sherlock's hushed tone, like what they were doing was forbidden, nuzzling into Sherlock's long neck. He pressed a small kiss in the crook of Sherlock's jaw, enjoying the flutter of his pulse at his lips.

"John..." Sherlock's voice rumbled through his body, turning John's insides to jelly. He pushed a little closer to Sherlock. "John, we really ought to solve this murder." Sherlock's voice was reluctant, and as John pulled away, he locked his fingers in John's belt loops.

"No, Sherlock, I understand. And I think we're really close to cracking this."

"It's all laid out before us, but we need to make the crucial link between two seemingly unrelated clues..." Sherlock rocked backwards, releasing John and zoning out, plopping down on his bed. John smiled lovingly.

This was the Sherlock he adored, the thinker, the solver, the enigma, the genius, the puzzler; sometimes the puzzle. This lean body sprawled awkwardly gracefully on the bed, totally unaware of anything outside his own "mind palace".

This was the man he loved.

He knew they had dinner soon, but he was so content, and so not hungry, he decided to skip the meal and just to watch.

It was three hours before Sherlock moved again. During which, John had put on his nightwear, finished a hefty chunk of his homework, and watched Sherlock think. Sherlock finally came out of his reverie and darted to the bathroom, coming out dressed in only a pair of navy flannel trousers. John was proud to see that Sherlock wasn't nearly as thin as he had been when they had first met.

"John?" It occurred to John that Sherlock had been speaking, and he had no idea what about.

"Huh?" Was the most dignified thing his brain could come up with. Curse you and your infernal lack of social talent, he thought.

Sherlock blushed, a surprisingly dark shade of pink blooming high in his cheeks. "I just asked if you wanted to move the beds together? I like to have you close for as long as possible, and nights aren't an exception." He gave a short laugh. "Of course, if you don't want to, if that's not the done thing, I'm fine."

"Let's do it. You move the bedside table, I'll push mine over to yours." John ordered. Sherlock sprung into action, removing all obstacles, so after five minutes and four strong curses (from John), the beds were together. John smiled and climbed in, snuggling down into the sheets. After a moment, Sherlock climbed in too, and shifted close to John, slinging his arm loosely around John's waist. John sighed contentedly, curling up against Sherlock's porcelain chest.

"We are definitely keeping the beds like this." He purred. "Much more comfortable."

Sherlock nodded, his soft curls shifting up and down at the back of John's head. John twisted and pressed a chaste kiss on Sherlock's lips, and Sherlock tightened his grip on John's waist. Twisted irrevocably together, they fell into a restful sleep.