“Lawyer. Mid-fifties. Adulterer.” Sherlock rattled off in quick succession along with other deductions, circling and pointing to various aspects of the nude dead body splayed out in the dirt before the officers of Scotland Yard.
The two had been called mid-afternoon to the case of man found stripped of his clothing, with said clothing nearby, in the middle of clearing in a thatch of woods located not too far off the side of a highway. Seeing as was a chance for some fresh air, the two decided to take up the case and travel by taxi to meet Lestrade. It was a pleasantly warm day enough to where John did not even need a jumper nor Sherlock his Belstaff.
Sherlock fished around in the man’s coat, which lay strewn off to the side from his body along with the rest of his articles of clothing, and pulled out a small brown leather-bound day planner. In it was scrawled hasty writing in the edges of the dates which Sherlock showed to Lestrade.
“He had appointments all week but this date, here on Monday” Sherlock continued, making a quick jab towards the paper, “is unmarked besides this chicken-scratch writing on the side. It is a fairly common pattern among adulterers who try to fib a surprise meeting by hastily writing a location and time when in reality they wish to go visit their person on the side. Probably a--”
A sudden loud sneeze interrupted Sherlock’s deduction. In unison, Sherlock and John turned to see John pull a handkerchief from his pocket and blow his nose before dabbing at his eyes gently.
“Sorry.” John apologized, tucking the handkerchief back into his pocket, “I rarely have a problem with sickness but a kid who visited the clinic gave me a cold the other day.”
Lestrade nodded his sympathies and listened as Sherlock finished his deductions, declaring the man to have more than likely been murdered by his angry wife in seeking revenge for not only cheating on him but cheating with another man.
“Shame, that is.”John commented as they walked around later, enjoying the lush forest and fresh air.
“What is?” Sherlock replied as he slid his hand into John’s and observed a curious looking growth on the side of a tree stump.
“The fact he felt he needed to be secretive about himself to the point he cheated. Cheating is just not right.” John remarked, sitting down on the tree stump and pulling Sherlock into his lap.
Sherlock curled up as close as he could, his long legs draping over John’s legs and his feet solidly touching the ground, “Why you always insist on holding me I do not know. I’m taller than you.”
John ruffled Sherlock’s curls, “Because I like to. Besides, you like it too.”
Sherlock huffed but the faint smile playing on his lips convinced John that he was right. John shifted Sherlock so he could reach into his pocket for his handkerchief again to blow his nose.
“Ugh. Do I hate being sick. Makes my head all stuffy feeling.” John griped, tucking the cloth away and placing his head on Sherlock’s shoulder.
Sherlock reached up and touched John’s cheek so that they were looking at one another. Slowly, Sherlock leaned in to kiss John. Before he could touch their lips together John drew back.
“You’ll get sick.” John protested.
Sherlock scrunched up his face and leaned in closer to kiss John anyways, not caring if he caught a cold. John gave up his protests and kissed Sherlock back, knowing now it was too late to worry about being contagious. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock to steady him and kissed him furtively on the lips. Sherlock wiggled around until John let him go, allowing him to slide down onto his knees in the grass in front of John.
John furrowed his brows and tilted his head in question. Sherlock replied by kissing the inner portion of John’s thighs gently before using his teeth to tug gently on the fabric of John’s jeans. John petted the top of Sherlock’s head lovingly and earned himself a playfully nipped finger.
“May I?” Sherlock asked as he looked up at John whilst fiddling with John’s zipper.
“Of course.” John said, moving his hands out of the way so Sherlock could tug down his fly, “I hope Lestrade won’t be looking for us.”
Sherlock shook his head as he reached into John’s trousers to free his cock, already hard and leaking precome slightly, “He went with the forensic crew back to the lab. No doubts to see Molly as those two have been seeing one another much more recently.”
“Molly and Lestrade, huh?” John chuckled then gasped as Sherlock took within his mouth John’s tip and began to suck gently then with more fervor.
As Sherlock quick tongue worked around and under John’s shaft John threaded his fingers into Sherlock’s hair, the ringlets weaving between his fingers’ loose grasp. Sherlock felt the light tug and moved his mouth farther downwards, until the tip of his nose brushed into the small patch of blond hair at the base of John’s cock. John bit his lower lip and looked down at Sherlock, who at the same time had ventured to glance upwards at John. Their eyes met and John could feel rather than actually see the small curl upwards of Sherlock’s lip as he smiled around his girth.
John began to tremble, the hold he had in Sherlock’s hair gone slack in favor of gripping onto the edge of the stump to keep his hips from instinctively thrusting. Sherlock reached over to cover John’s right hand with his left and stroked his thumb against the back of John’s hand. In comfort or in an effort to keep him still John was unsure.
Without warning John climaxed, his body shuddered with the effort and a cough rose up in his throat that turned into a unexpected loud sneeze. The horrendous noise caused Sherlock to laugh so hard he half-gagged and had to move away suddenly to flop back onto the grass and continue laughing there.
“Not funny.” John stuffily said, fishing out his handkerchief from his disheveled clothing and blowing his nose.
“Oh I believe it quite hilarious!” Sherlock guffawed, sitting back up and flashing a grin at John, who stood and refastened his trousers in mild embarrassment. Sherlock continued to smile as he added, “Come on, let’s get you home to rest. Can’t have the trusty doctor be sick for too long.”
“Yeah, yeah.” John muttered, unable to help to smile spreading to his face as he and Sherlock laced their fingers together.
They walked in silence until John piped up, “You’re not going to be telling that to Lestrade are you?”
Sherlock looked away from John and towards the woods before he slyly replied, “Now would I do that?”