Fic for aurora_interim: Accepting

[holmesticemods]

Title: Accepting
Recipient: aurora_interim
Author: only_po
Universe: BBCSherlock
Summary: “Sherlock . . . I’m not straight.” “Don’t be absurd, John,” Sherlock scoffed, draping himself over the couch. “Of course you are.”

Accepting

hey babe what r u wearing?

John looked at his mobile in sheer bafflement. The text had come from Sarah’s phone and he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised to receive a sext from his girlfriend, but . . . well, really, he hadn’t thought their relationship had progressed to that point yet. Truth be told, he thought she was still a bit miffed about that whole circus kidnapping thing.

Apparently not.

too many clothes, he wrote back on impulse.

lol. should fix that

if you were here you could fix it for me

fix it yourself and tell me blipped his mobile. A moment later came an addendum. Tell me all about it

Jumper’s gone, John obliged, even though it was no such thing.

Boring. Details!

He rolled his eyes. He got enough of that from Sherlock; he didn’t need it from his girlfriend too. You take something off too.

Her response came in a series of lightening-fast pings. Shirt is black and stretchy. Clings to me. Hard to peel over my breasts. Catches my arms and pins them over my head. Helpless. Then I pull free. Toss it in the corner.

Bloody hell. Great literature it wasn’t by any stretch but what the text didn’t specify his mind was quick to elaborate upon in exquisite detail. Was she really expecting something like that from him?

Ur turn John.

Fabulous. Blogging was one thing, where he had the time and luxury to think out his words, to edit his writings, to stop and take a break in the middle of it if he so chose. Coming up with words on the fly had never been a strength of his, never mind something meant to be sexy.

He was thoughtfully tapping his finger against the table when there was another ping, this time from his laptop. Thank God, an instant message! But better let Sarah know he’d be gone for a moment, lest she thought he’d lost interest.

wait a min

>(

John ignored Sarah’s pique in favor of opening . . . Sarah’s new message? He squinted at the screen, sure he was misreading it.

“Did I leave my mobile at your place? Looked everywhere, can’t find it.”

waiting, insisted his own mobile.

John inhaled slowly, counting to five, and then exhaled for the same length of time. “Think I know where it is, let you know soon,” he typed to her.

On the phone, he texted, sarah wants her mobile back, sherlock.

There was a long silence. What gave it away?

just bring it back and I wont tell her who took it

How did you know? Sherlock insisted.

bring it back and i’ll tell you

*****

“What did I do wrong?” demanded Sherlock a moment or two after he walked in the door and slapped the stolen phone into his flatmate’s waiting hand.

John assumed his deadest of deadpans. “You mean besides taking Sarah’s mobile and leading me to believe you were her sexting me?”

“Yes, very bad of me, ought to be ashamed, bit not good, etc etc. How did you know it was me texting and not Sarah?”

“She IM’ed me asking me if I knew where her mobile was.”

It was really too bad he wasn’t familiar enough with the camera on Sarah’s phone to get a snap of Sherlock’s gob-smacked face. John reckoned that would have been compensation enough for the theft.

“That’s cheating,” the detective finally announced, and commenced pouting.

“What, you think this was some game?”

“Of course it wasn’t a game! It was an experiment.”

Sighing never did any good in sorts of Sherlock-situations. Exaggerated patience was probable the best option. “Right. An experiment. In what, precisely?”

“I need to learn how men of different sexual orientations react to various forms of sexting. You were one of my straight man receiving text from a woman of his acquaintance.”

“I’m sorry . . . ‘one of’?”

A faint, characterstically mocking smile played on Sherlock’s lips. “Anderson was the first. His response was rather, shall we say, enthusiastic. Most enlightening. Tomorrow I test how Lestrade responds to receiving a sext from Anderson.”

“Sherlock.” John hesitated, and threaded a hand through his hair. Where to begin correcting all that was not right with what Sherlock had just told him? Well, Anderson he didn’t much care about and there’d be time to email Lestrade a warning later tonight or even tomorrow morning. So it was just a question of whether or not to correct Sherlock’s latest erroneous assumption. Oh, may as well. He’d find out at some point anyway, between Mycroft and his own deductive abilities. “I’m not straight.”

“Don’t be absurd, John,” Sherlock scoffed, draping himself over the couch. “Of course you are.”

Patience be damned. “Um, no, I’m not. I’m bi, actually. I think I would know better than you, even if you are a bloody genius.”

“Your sister is gay.”

“Yes. But what does that – ”

“If you and your fully biological sibling both were not straight, you would be exploited beyond belief by the ‘born that way’ supporters while at the same time decried as frauds by the ‘gay by choice’ crowd. Meanwhile, the scientists would swarm all over the family Watson, mapping your genomes and writing up psychological studies about you two. Moreover, I have an excellent sense about these sorts of things and you do not, as they say, ‘ping my gaydar.’ QED: you, John Watson, are straight.”

John found himself literally speechless for a good ten seconds, far longer than necessary for Sherlock to deem himself winner of the debate and to start wandering off to his bedroom. “That makes absolutely no sense!”

Sherlock paused and turned with one eyebrow cocked insolently. “Do you mean to tell me that the scenarios I’ve put forth have happened without my finding them when I researched you?”

“You resear – no, of course you did.” One argument at a time, Watson. “Look, Sherlock, I’m not out, ok? I prefer women but . . .yeah, I’ve had a couple blokes and I’m telling you I’m bi.”

“And I’m telling you you’re not. Think about it; you’ll see I’m right.” His parting shot completed, the detective entered the bedroom and closed the door in John’s face.

*****

How dare he? How dare he? John spun on the ball of his foot and paced down the length of the room again. Bloody arrogant git, thinking he knew a man’s sexuality better than the man himself! Thinking that all it took was one little comment to make someone question their whole way of life!

It wasn’t as if John hadn’t had doubts before. There had been questions that tormented him throughout his teens and early twenties – what it meant that he loved kissing his girlfriend but fantasized about the boy who sat in front of him in maths; whether he was repressing his own desires because of his parents’ reaction when Harry came out; whether he was bi curious just because Harry’s lifestyle was vicariously making him more open-minded.

But John was done with doubts now. He knew who he was. He was bi, with admittedly more of a hetero bend, but bi nevertheless. Sherlock may be a genius but he could still make mistakes. He’d thought Harry was a man. And he’d overlooked the cabdriver in their first case together. And how good could Sherlock’s gaydar be if he couldn’t even figure out the point of some dates was simple, straight-up sex?

. . . Or had Sherlock been pretending ignorance just to be annoying? Perhaps as a way of getting him to admit his intentions towards Sarah? John wouldn’t put it past him. Come to think of it, it was exactly something Sherlock would do. Which meant he wasn’t as clueless as he had appeared when it came to sexual matters.

John stopped his pacing, folded his arms, and snorted. Sherlock and sex were about as incongruous as Lestrade in a tutu. Anyway, what did his sexual orientation matter to Sherlock? If not for that bloody experiment, it wouldn’t have made one bit of difference to the detective. Likely his only concern was making sure his precious results weren’t skewed by an unforeseen wild card.

Wait.

Was that the only reason Sherlock would want him to be straight? Sherlock wasn’t homophobic so it had to be John’s sexuality specifically that was the issue. What was it the detective had said over dinner that one time, that he was “married to his work” or something like that? What better way to ensure their relationship stayed platonic or professional or whatever it was – not romantic, at any rate – than to convince John that he was straight?

Conniving bastard.

John rapped firmly on the bedroom door and held his ground when it opened. Initially Sherlock looked mildly surprised, which was somewhat gratifying.

“You told me that if I thought about it I’d see you were right. Well, I have thought about it.”

And there it was – that annoying “why, yes, I am the cleverest man alive” smirk that almost immediately faded into placid blankness. “And?”

“You’re still wrong. Just because something is improbable doesn’t mean it’s impossible. My sister is gay. And I’m still bi.”

A faint, genuinely pleased smile hovered on Sherlock’s lips. “I know.”

John waited for Sherlock to laugh and say he was joking. He eventually realized that wasn’t going to happen. “I . . . I’m sorry, what?”

“I know. I’ve always known. What I didn’t know was how sure of it you were.”

A tension headache began thudding at John’s temples. “You couldn’t have, oh I don’t know, just asked me?”

“People are capable of fooling themselves. I had to know how sure of it you were. If I made you doubt yourself then I’d know it wasn’t safe yet.”

John hesitated. Do I really want to do this? No telling what’s behind this door. Could be . . . dangerous. Oh, damn. “Safe for what?”

Sherlock’s lips were suddenly against his: warm, dry, ever so slightly roughened from the winter, and exerting a tantalizing amount of pressure. No tongue – yet – but somehow all the more intimate despite it.

John broke it off and looked at him steadily. “What about Sarah?”

“It’s unethical to date your boss. And I’m not interested in threesomes.”

“Does the experiment actually exist or was it just an excuse to sort me out?”

“Both.”

“I thought you were married to your work.”

Sherlock shrugged. “Maybe I’m a bigamist.”

“What if I said you weren’t my type?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You have dark hair.” He tried to keep a poker face but no doubt something was giving away that he was teasing.

“I also have wigs.” The smirk was back, hovering at the corners of Sherlock’s mouth. John felt himself smiling in response, then went serious.

“Why should I even consider this?”

Sherlock looked serious too. “Because I’m dangerous and you have a need for that. Because you’re interesting and I have a need for that. Because I’m gay . . . and you’re bi.”

“OK.” And John returned his kiss.

Comments

[venturous1.livejournal.com]

well, glad they got that sorted! delightful snarky banter!

[dark-angel1090.livejournal.com]

Hee, stealing someone else's mobile to sext John is SO Sherlock. Great dialogue, as well. :)

[s0mmerspr0ssen.livejournal.com]

Squee!!

[blighted-garden.livejournal.com]

This was lovely, and you really nailed Sherlock's voice!

[zephyr-macabee.livejournal.com]

God Sherlock, you are so manipulative! But it is a win for both of them.

[sabrinaphynn.livejournal.com]

Hail to the snarks

[et-in-arkadia.livejournal.com]

Yay, loved this! Was just clever and delightful and so totally probable and you have them down pitch-perfectly. I could literally hear them speaking your lines. Can we get you on the BBC writing staff?

Also would love to see the after-kiss follow-up scene!

[shefa.livejournal.com]

*grins

Totally Sherlock. Great fun! Poor John... wait, what am I saying? Lucky John! LOL. :)

[lindentreeisle.livejournal.com]

BRB, laughing forever.

[verilyvexed.livejournal.com]

I love how audacious Sherlock is, and risking throwing John into an identity crisis just to see if they were sexually compatible is just the sort of thing he'd do. XD Great banter!

[dontbe-vain.livejournal.com]

Very nicely written. John reacted in a way that I could see. I love that Sherlock went through all that trouble to confirm John`s feelings, showing that he felt vulnerable to need proof of John`s affections.