clueingforlooks: (looking up)
Sherlock Holmes ([personal profile] clueingforlooks) wrote2015-03-16 02:18 am
Entry tags:

Everyone says you bring out the worst in me like that's a bad thing.

Ten days without a case. Ten days. Sherlock was out of his mind for it. Dozens of would-be cases had come in to his inbox and been dismissed quickly for one reason or another, solved, puerile, boring. It was past the phase where he'd likely blow holes in the walls of the flat, save for the fact that John's taken fresh measures at locking the firearms away from him, damn him. 

It would seem that everything about Sherlock is building to a crescendo in the absence of work, even if realistically he's always on an ever escalating path to some madness or other. At least, though, when he's got a case, all this energy is focused in one direction. The past week and a half have been spent tearing through the flat. It's left his bedroom in wild disarray and the kitchen sink half out of commission. Which is to say that one basin is being used to test post-mortem bloat and skin slippage of something that's held submerged at the bottom tied to a weight - what that is, God only knows. There were a string of days in there where Sherlock hadn't bathed, hadn't checked in on his various experiments all over the flat - thankfully that string has been broken today with a long hot shower followed with more of the same. Pacing, staring, checking the website, and pestering John as if he has some kind of answer. As if he's holding out on him. 

There's two emails he's just read not long ago, and he's not even going to bother writing them back right now. They barely had cause to write - it ought to be obvious, the answer - and so he's perched the laptop on a nearby pile of books and is sitting, staring into the fireplace, apparently lost in thought. 
heartofbakerst: (deadly serious)

[personal profile] heartofbakerst 2015-04-13 06:26 pm (UTC)(link)
John listened to Sherlock, nodding along every now and then to show that he understood what was being said. Under the surface, he was seething, however. Slowly building to a boiling point while he watched Sherlock explain, slowly flexing his hands behind his back.

"You want this to be a training exercise?" John had plenty of experience with training exercises in his life, and if one thing could be said about them, it was that they were utterly unpredictable. After all, in the Army, you had to be prepared at any moment to move and fight back.

"All right. Training. I think I can do that." And to show Sherlock just what he thought of his ridiculous "training" exercises, he reeled back and threw a punch into his face, only waiting around just long enough to make sure that Sherlock didn't hit any furniture on his way down before turning around and finishing his trek to the bedroom.
heartofbakerst: (No I know you for real)

[personal profile] heartofbakerst 2015-04-13 07:03 pm (UTC)(link)
John had thought he'd made his opinion perfectly clear about what he thought about Sherlock's suggestion, so he put it right out of his mind as soon as his head met pillow. So the next morning, when he emerged in his pyjamas and bathrobe, he did not even consider looking for Sherlock, only giving as much consideration to him as checking his bedroom door to see if he was still sleeping. It appeared so, and so he trudged into the kitchen to put on some coffee and begin digging around the cupboards for something quick to put in his stomach.

Now that he had time to cool off, John actually felt somewhat sorry for hitting Sherlock. With calmer, more rational mind, he began to suspect that maybe the suggestion wasn't entirely a bad idea, and that maybe he'd judged too quickly. He'd been so wrapped up in his own mind and frustrations that he didn't even take the time to analyse any of the merits of it, and really only thought it was stupid because he was upset with Sherlock at the time.

Maybe he'd apologise when he woke up. Maybe. Honestly, it depended entirely on Sherlock and on whether or not he was going to continue pressing the issue from the night before.
heartofbakerst: (concern)

[personal profile] heartofbakerst 2015-04-13 09:10 pm (UTC)(link)
John was looking forward to sitting with the paper and his coffee and going over his notes from the case, editing them down to what he wanted to include in his blog post. Really. That was all he wanted with his morning.

Unfortunately, that is absolutely not what he got.

Without even realising that he was being attacked, John found himself taken completely off guard and before he even could comprehend what was happening, his arms were pinned behind him and he was on the floor. The coffee he'd just finished making was a puddle of hot liquid and some ceramic shards a few feet away, and John was a sleepy, grumpy old doctor.

"What the hell?!" John cried, twisting and struggling against his captor until he was able to finally look Sherlock in the face. To say he was upset was a great understatement. "Let me up! Get off of me!" What the hell was he even trying to prove, anyway? That He was a master of stealth and deception and that it was utterly hopeless for John to fight back?
heartofbakerst: (surprise)

[personal profile] heartofbakerst 2015-04-14 03:17 am (UTC)(link)
What the hell was Sherlock on about? Give up? Give up on what?! What was even happening? Sherlock's not the only one with fighting experience, of course, so he does his best to buck his hips and twist far enough to be able to get some sort of leverage on him, but he's surprised at how strong Sherlock is this early in the morning. He's struggling to breathe a little, unable to pull his wrists out of Sherlock's long-fingered grasp.

"What is wrong with you? Is this about last night?" He wants answers, because like hell he's going to give up when he's the one who's being assaulted. He twists a little and manages to catch a foot on the floor, pushing up enough to try to knock Sherlock off of him. "I was-- nngh! Going to apologise!" he shouts. "I'm sorry! I shouldn't have punched you!"
heartofbakerst: (deadly serious)

[personal profile] heartofbakerst 2015-04-14 04:24 am (UTC)(link)
"A training exer- What the HELL, Sherlock?!" John continues twisting until he feels the weight of Sherlock off of him. But he doesn't even have a moment to celebrate or try to get the upper hand before he finds his airway really being restricted and his head being pulled back. It's an awkward angle, and he's feeling it in his back. Of course Sherlock would be the one to know how to do this to him. Why wouldn't he?

"Sherlock... Sherlock-- I can't breathe!" he croaks out just before Sherlock's arm loosens around his neck. But then... oh but then, he hears the rumble of Sherlock's voice against his ear, and it shoots a chilling bolt straight through him, strong enough to make him shudder and whine. He's lost his head, but only for a moment before he's trying to pry his arm off from around his neck. That bastard. Now he really can't force himself to quit. He could win this... he really could! Even with how weak Sherlock's voice and the restricted air to his brain was making him.

"I'm... I'm not--!!"
heartofbakerst: (surprise)

[personal profile] heartofbakerst 2015-04-14 05:23 am (UTC)(link)
No, John hadn't agreed, and he certainly didn't think that it would be an issue that would be pressed again any time soon, so he put it out of his mind. Apparently, Sherlock had other ideas.

He continues to strain, trying, and failing, to ignore the breath against his neck that's making his grip weaker by the second and the stars he's seeing in front of his eyes. He can't help but to let out another quiet whimper. Struggling is becoming more difficult by the second, oh but if he taps out now, he'll never hear the end of it from him.

But there's something odd about the way Sherlock's got him down, and it takes a moment for him to sort out where it was coming from. Oh Christ, he's got... John taps the floor -- pounds on it, really, and through a strained voice says, "Uncle! Uncle! I've had enough, let me up!" This is too weird now, and it doesn't help that Sherlock's own treatment of him had him... well, uncomfortable was a mild word for it.
heartofbakerst: (who'd want me for a flatmate?)

[personal profile] heartofbakerst 2015-04-15 05:08 am (UTC)(link)
"Sherlock, please!"

Christ, John did not need Sherlock moaning into his ear. Not this early, and not... ever, he supposed. If anything, did he really have to be that close to his damn ear when he did it? But he wasn't letting go. Why the hell wasn't he letting go? "Sherlock-!!" It was the best he could do to try to get his attention like this. Now, instead, he finds himself in a rather awkward and potentially dangerous situation.

There are of course a number of things that John can do to fix this and get on with his morning and pretend none of it ever happened. The sooner that John could put all of this nonsense out of his mind and in the past, the sooner he could get on with his life.

Still, he can't deny that the voice was doing... things to him... things he didn't want to think about or even acknowledge as things at all. He was growing more and more uncomfortable by the second, and being so violently pressed against the floor was absolutely not helping. He tapped the floor again, and when it was plainly obvious that Sherlock was miles away, he did the only thing he could think to do to grab his attention:

He ducked his head and sank his teeth into his arm.
heartofbakerst: (No I know you for real)

[personal profile] heartofbakerst 2015-04-17 04:21 am (UTC)(link)
When Sherlock's hold on him loosens, John is finally able to relax a little, panting as he struggles to catch his breath, taking it in gulps. He didn't actually think Sherlock wouldn't listen to him when he told him to stop, and the thought that he might not even consider him is somewhat alarming to him, and even a bit hurtful in a way. He trusted Sherlock... but then he had also trusted him not to assault him first thing in the morning, either, but apparently, he was wrong about that, too.

He's about to shut himself down like he always does when he needs to emotionally distance himself from a problem, right up until he hears Sherlock's apology come in over his shoulder. He frowns just a little, mostly confused by it all, and he turns his head the best that he can to get a better look at him and let him see in turn the incredulous expression he's got.

John... still has no idea what to think of what had just happened. He knows he's upset, and he also knows he and his body are both very confused. He hates that his body liked the struggle of being unable to breathe properly, and he hates it even more that he had to figure it out like this. Of course, the thought had been on his mind since Sherlock brought it up the night before, but he wasn't planning on revisiting it any time soon, but clearly Sherlock had other plans. He doesn't like this one little bit, and he really doesn't like what he's feeling from Sherlock's body and what he might and might not be feeling.

Finally, he swallows hard and begins to push himself again, trying to stand up and slide Sherlock off of him. "I'd... I 'd like to get up now."
heartofbakerst: (concern)

[personal profile] heartofbakerst 2015-04-17 05:38 am (UTC)(link)
Okay, now John really has no idea what the hell is going on. He'd felt Sherlock practically rutting him into the floor just moments ago, and now he's on his feet and walking over to have a sit on the sofa like nothing had ever happened. Like John hadn't just had a small crisis in his head over the conflict of what the hell he should do about all of this. All John could do for a long moment was stare, flabbergasted by Sherlock's display. Was this all just to prove some kind of point? Did he have an agenda behind all of this other than to piss off John first thing in the morning?

It's a long moment before John feels like he's got enough of a grip on his sanity to look away from him and assess the rest of the situation at hand. His hands, knees, and elbows hurt from hitting the floor too hard, he's got cooling coffee on his bathrobe and a still-steaming puddle of it on the floor amidst a mosaic of mug shards, and he's got Sherlock sat on the couch, thinking God knows what and probably planning his next attack. Where to start?

John gives a heavy sigh and returns to the kitchen for a dish towel to clean up the mess Sherlock made him make, and maybe if he was lucky, he would find the broken pieces of his mind while he was down there.

His body is clearly unhappy with John's decision to ignore this, though, and it's letting him know about it. It's actually so much of a problem that John is forced to close his bathrobe to keep himself from being too obvious about it. But it doesn't keep his mind from running it over and over again in his mind. What if he hadn't stopped? What if he hadn't done it in the first place? What now? Should he say anything or just let it evaporate as Sherlock had apparently done?