me and my new icon are
not in any way completely ready for new year’s reveal of sherlock
To Sherlock Holmes she is always The Woman
Gatiss about Molly. (via the-future-mrs-cumberbatch)
remember when I did prompts, like, a million years ago?
I just filled one, is it totally crappy? have I lost my touch?
|Prompt - agitated/sad pregnant Sherlock (3-4 months?) being moody around the house and not being able to sleep but he has his John to comfort him and such. :-)|
Sherlock was absolutely and completely restless. At that point in the pregnancy where he wasn’t nauseous and excited by the novelty of the idea but not huge and ready for the baby’s arrival either, the middle point of the pregnancy seemed to exactly reflect what Sherlock was feeling. Not hungry but not full, not sleepy but not entirely awake either, and unable to focus completely on anything. It really didn’t help that the weather today seemed to be the same, vaguely grey and cloudy but with no real threat of rain.
The result was a very moody detective, who stalked about the flat with a glazed expression, his long pale fingers stroking and tapping his growing belly or rubbing at his temples while he thought. The long tendrils of his imagination mixed and tangled and faded away far too quickly, and left Sherlock irritable.
"Sherlock," John called, from his seat at the kitchen table, his mug of hot cocoa cooling beside him.
"Sherlock, come here."
Sherlock barely responded to the soft voice breaking his thoughts but his body carried him to it nonetheless.
"What will a corpse’s internal temperature be in an air-conditioned environment after 34 minutes, provided they didn’t struggle at the time of death?"
Sherlock paused a moment, his lips pulled taut and his cheekbones sharp in thought, before he responded easily.
"79 degrees fahrenheit, considering the air-conditioned room was at 78 degrees, and the victim had a normal body temperature. Why do you ask?"
John smiled a little, and took Sherlock’s pale hand in his tanned one.
"Just making sure you’re still sane. I figured that was one of the best ways to know."
Sherlock smiled for the first time all day, and even went as far to bend over, hand on his stomach, and lay a kiss in the thick of John’s straw blonde hair.
"You know me well."
John stood at the gesture and wrapped his arms gently around his lover’s waist, looking up into his eyes.
"I do, and I’m worried about you. You’re so restless that it’s making me anxious too, and we don’t want it spreading to our little one. Got enough to be going on with, growing new systems every week or so."
Sherlock nodded and settled comfortably into John’s encircling arms, taking the first relaxed breath he’d had all day.
"What do you suggest I do to keep my mind occupied?" he asked, stealing John’s mug from the table and taking a sip of his cocoa.
John smirked a little and rubbed Sherlock’s back.
"I didn’t say to occupy your mind, hot chocolate stealer. How about this- how about I give you a massage, try out that lotion that the woman at the store said would prevent stretch marks, and we can watch some documentaries on serial killers and order something out from Angelo."
Sherlock’s eyes brightened at the idea before he could control himself, and John laughed happily at the sight. Sherlock overcompensated with an overdramatic frown-pout combo, and shrugged.
"If you think that would be prudent."
John laughed again and took Sherlock’s hand, leading him out towards their bedroom to start the massage.
"You bloody stubborn man, I hope our child is just like you."
john, in a fit of mischief, gives sherlock a footjob in a public place. sherlock has to be really careful with the noises he can’t keep from doing. the agonisingly patient john takes it slow, expertly flexing and massaging his foot and toes around sherlock’s wet and painfully hard bulge. the day ends up with sherlock ashamedly coming into his own pants in public and a fast blowjob for john in the nearby bathroom.
what is this even about
Benedict reading the lyrics to R. Kelly’s song