Chapter Text
PULSE
CHAPTER ONE: BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS
"ARSEHOLES!"
Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes was not having a good morning. He was TRYING to make John breakfast, but who the hell makes waffles from scratch to prove their love? Idiots, that's who! And eggs benedict? Forget about it!
Perhaps John would like a nice romantic cup of tea?
No wait...what had he put in the kettle yesterday....oh no, that was the tea strainer, so...oh...perhaps tea from a bag?
"SHIT!" Sherlock swore, and got down a clean mug.
"The fuck are you doing?" came Johns sleepy voice, staggering over in pyjama bottoms and robe, hair like a pineapple, rubbing his eyes.
"Making you a romantic cup of tea." Sherlock said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"And the smoke?"
"...experiment..?" Sherlock said, grinning and hoping John would fall for it. He didn't, but appreciated how cute Sherlock looked trying to fool him.
"Tea would be lovely." John sat down at the table.
"How are you feeling this morning?" Sherlock asked. They had spent most of the night skulking. Doorways, clubs, alleyways. Someone was killing club goers and Sherlock and John had gone undercover as patrons. In tight black jeans. John had only just regained feeling in his calves. Sherlock, of course, had looked gorgeous, all tall and willowy and pale. John had just looked uncomfortable. Probably because he had no feeling in his calves.
"Remind me again why I follow you like a puppy?" he sighed.
"The danger." Sherlock smiled. "And you like getting into my knickers."
"That I do."
"I may have at least some idea of whom to investigate, if that's any consolation to you."
"Yeah. Heaps." John sighed, and then smiled as a hot cup of tea was slid in front of him. He stretched his neck a bit. It was a bit stiff and sore, probably from when he was pushed into an alley wall by Sherlock to avoid a group of goth club goers.
"Sore?" Sherlock asked, and came around to rub Johns shoulders with his long, pale, warm fingers.
"Mnnnn, that's the ticket." John stretched like a cat and tilted his head to give Sherlock more access to his neck. Sherlock dug his thumbs in and soon had John purring, tea forgotten.
"Feel better?" Sherlock whispered into Johns ear, making John shiver. The mans voice did things to bits of him that should be noted in anatomy books. John just smiled, and then Sherlock dipped his head further and began to nip and suck gently at Johns neck and throat. John laid his head back to allow Sherlock more skin to play with, and Sherlock did not need to be told twice. He attacked Johns sensitive spots vigorously and John purred again.
Then the door to their flat was kicked in, and two scruffy flannel clad men were suddenly in their house, one pointing a sawn off shotgun at them and the other a...was that a stake?
"Get off him you undead scum!" The shorter one roared and then, for some reason, both the intruders threw water into the stunned faces of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson
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