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August 2010

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Fanfic for BBC:s Sherlock - A cup of tea

Disclaimer: I'm making no profit out of this, nor do I own or represent any of the characters or concepts mentioned below. No copyright infringement intended. 
Rating: PG-13-ish.
Genre: Romance
AN: This is based on a line or two from the first episode, Study in pink. Though one of the lines that inspired me turned out not to be as I remembered it. Well, well, this simply wouldn't leave me alone until I'd written it, so here it is.

Link to this story in Chinese, translated by [info]jacinta_jane 

                      ”The shoes,” Sherlock said as soon as the minister had left. “Of course! The shoes!” He rushed out of the church with John tailing after him. As a red sports car pulled out of the parking lot, Sherlock ran out in front of it.

                      The minister didn’t hesitate. He continued driving, and Sherlock rolled off the front of the car and remained unmoving on the gravelled driveway.

                      “Sherlock? Are you alright?”

                      “Well, can’t work every time,” the detective said lightly, attempting to get up.

                      Watson crouched down next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders to help him.

                      “We need to get you to a hospital,” he said.

                      Sherlock laughed. “No worries. Nothing a cup of tea wont fix.”

                      “Sherlock, you’re hurt,” John protested. He gently pushed his fingertips against the other man’s ribcage, and Sherlock winced. “At least one broken rib, I’d say.”

                      Finally, Sherlock caved, and they ended up in the emergency room of a busy hospital. After having been examined and got the rib realigned, and, deliberately, ignored the instructions of taking it easy for the next few days, Sherlock insisted on that cup of tea.

                      Watson would rather have seen they went back home and that Sherlock got some rest, but he realized that wasn’t going to happen. Through agreeing to the tea, he decided, he was choosing the lesser of two evils. Otherwise Sherlock would get himself into even more trouble, trying to chase after that long gone car, or something equally reckless.

                      “What were you thinking?” Watson asked when they’d both been served their tea by a young, smiling waitress.

                      “Most drivers stop reflexively when faced with an obstacle – “

                      “But he didn’t,” John interrupted.

                      “Like I said,” Sherlock brushed it off, “it can’t work every time. Besides – “ he pulled out his cell phone and placed it between them on the table. “With the windshield cracked, he can’t keep the car for long. When he dumps it, I’ll get a call,” he indicated the phone, “and then we’ll know where to look. It’s worth a broken rib, wouldn’t you say?”

                      John shook his head. “Oh, my stupid, stupid Sherlock,” he said. He raised his hand, and then decisively stopped it mid-air, starting to draw it back.

                      Sherlock reached out and grabbed a hold of his wrist. Meeting John’s eyes, he ran his fingers across the back of the other man’s hand. With a slight, almost indefinable change of his facial expression, he said, “You’re seeing someone.” At John’s raised eyebrow, he explained. “New soap, and today’s the first day I noticed it, so it must be fairly new. “First time you stayed over last night?”

                      “What if I just bought a different soap?” John asked, remembering the girl from the night before. They’d met at the pub and started talking. She’d been beautiful, but just a one-night-stand.

                      “But you were out last night. I missed you at breakfast.”
                      Was it only him, or was that smile wavering just a bit?

                      “Maybe you were out all night, buying soap?”

                      Did nothing escape this man? And he was still holding on to John’s wrist.

                      “Ah, it was nothing – just one – “

                      “You don’t need to be telling me that.” Just a very slight crease of the forehead. He let go of John’s wrist. “Now, would you accompany me to the bathroom? I feel a bit woozy because of the painkillers.”

                      John got up, and, with Sherlock leaning slightly against his shoulder, they made their way to the bathroom.

                      As soon as the door slammed shut, John found himself pinned against it. Sherlock’s right hand was held against the door, so close to his head that the thumb was almost grazing his earlobe.

Sherlock’s face was impossibly close, and John could feel breath flowing over his face, breath smelling of tea and something sweet, even though Sherlock took his tea black.

                      Sherlock’s eyes locked with his, seeming to somehow bore a hole right through him, and they were dark with something John didn’t dare to name. Then his eyes flickered down to Sherlock’s lips for just a millisecond, and they were kissing.

                      Sherlock’s lips were teasing his, and John found himself biting, nibbling carefully at the detective’s bottom lip. Sherlock groaned, and pressed himself closer to John, nestling his right hand into his hair.

                      As they withdrew for breath, Sherlock stood there quiet for a few seconds, not even panting. Then, with a smile, he said,

                      “Thank you. Now I feel much better.” And then he was off.

                      John stood in the middle of the floor, confusion filling up his mind. He returned to leaning against the door, which he couldn’t quite remember when he’d left.

                      Just as he’d collected himself enough to return out into the café, despite really not having any idea what to do if Sherlock turned out to have stayed, he got a text.


The married-to-the-job-thing is non- negotiable.


And, just a few seconds after that one:


Always found monogamy silly, though.



Great fic! Loved reading it.
Thanks! I'm so glad you liked it!
This is lovely :)
By the way, your icon is brilliant.
Aw, this is sweet!
Thank you! *blushing*
I LOVE the two messages!Sherlock has a great sense of humor.
Thank you! And Sherlock IS amazing - he's so much fun to write.
I like this! Your last sentence truly did me in - that is soooo Sherlock. Lovely story. :)
Thanks! I'm really happy you liked it :)
HI chamonea:
I'm a girl from China and I love your novel called "A cup of tea". I'd like to translate it into Chinese to share with my friends. Would you please give me the permission to translate it? I'd be glad if you agree.

Oh, sure!
If you could write that I've written the original when you post it, that'd be great.
I'm really happy that you liked it, and flattered that you want to translate it.
Thought of another thing: If you tell me when you have translated it, I could post a link to the translation here. If you're ok with that? :)
HI Chamonea,
I have translated it and all of my friends like it:)
Here is the address:
Wonderful! :)
loved the ending bit!! :D
Thank you!