docwithablog | storyline one.

Skip to Main Content

Entry tags:

storyline one.

chronology -

00. word association w/ Sherlock

1. gen texting w/ Sherlock

2. the case of the missing first violinist w/ Sherlock

3. the case of the missing first violinist w/ Sherlock

4. the case of the missing first violinist w/ Sherlock

5. the case of the missing first violinist w/ Sherlock

6. texting w/ Sherlock

7. texting w/ Sherlock

8. texting w/ Sherlock

9. texts from last night w/ Sherlock

10. the case of the dying detective w/ Sherlock

11. the case of the dying detective w/ Sherlock

12. the case of the dying detective w/ Sherlock

13. the case of the great game w/ Sherlock

14. the case of the great game w/ Sherlock

15. texting w/ Sherlock

16. otherwordly w/ Sherlock

17. the case of the navel treatment w/ Sherlock

18. the case of the navel treatment w/ Sherlock

19. the case of the navel treatment w/ Sherlock

20. the case of the navel treatment w/ Sherlock

21. texting - part one | texting - part two w/ Sherlock

22. the case of the navel treatment w/ Sherlock

23. texting w/ Sherlock

24. the case of a scandal in belgravia w/ Sherlock

25. texting w/ Sherlock

26. the case of a scandal in belgravia w/ Sherlock

27. the case of a scandal in belgravia w/ Sherlock

28. the case of a scandal in belgravia w/ Sherlock

29. truth or dare w/ Sherlock

00. texts from last night w/ Sherlock

30. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

31. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

32. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

33. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

34. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

35. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

36. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

37. texting w/ Sherlock

38. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

39. the case of the devil's root w/ Sherlock

00. word association w/ Sherlock

00. texting w/ Sherlock

00. penny for your thoughts w/ Sherlock

40. midnight texting w/ Sherlock

41. interlude w/ Sherlock

42. interlude w/ Sherlock

43. interlude w/ Sherlock

44. texting w/ Sherlock

45. the case of the sign of three w/ Sherlock

46. the case of the sign of three w/ Sherlock

47. the case of the sign of three w/ Sherlock

48. texting w/ Sherlock

49. texting w/ Sherlock

50. texting w/ Sherlock

51. anniversary w/ Sherlock

52. texting w/ Sherlock

53. interlude w/ Sherlock

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ They've worked out the details in the car. Sherlock stays right behind John, trying to maintain a somewhat professional demeanour without overdoing it; after all, it's a relatively standard job, supposedly, even if the base in question doesn't typically lend itself to control visits. He glances at John, as he handles the introductions, time ticking away at Mycroft's access clearance. There's something rather... uh. Well. John's quite obviously naturally at home in this environment, with his... posture and his attitude and his...

Hm.

Focusing on the officer who's currently busy leading them away from the entrance, towards the main area of the overground complex (which in itself is quite large but no doubt minuscule compared to what lies beneath - iceberg metaphor suddenly very, very apt), Sherlock takes in the subtle hints of stubble as well as the lines of his face (up late last night, work-related, ambitious, young for his position, fast climber). He looks around without actively turning his head, gaze gliding back and forth, noting the careful anonymity of the building as they enter, the way everything looks very unremarkable. Military, distinctively, but normal, almost painfully so. They set the course for the elevators in the large entrance hall, the officer proclaiming that the science labs are down on the second level.

At least the labs they're given access to.

Sherlock glances at John. Resists the urge to touch his arm, the small of his back, though he'd really... rather like to. He really does look very... very.

Yes. ]

[ The walk to the elevator is covered in relative silence as they make their way through a system of hallways that couldn't be more military if it actively tried. The officer, a second lieutenant by the name of Taylor, obviously ambitious, obviously in a right hurry (no dallying about, very good) and obviously not expecting that he'd need to assist them, seeing as his stubble is prominent enough that John can make it out in the orange glow of the lamps above their heads, tells them that they're going to the second level which is naturally the only level they can gain access to currently, because the rest is top secret and their job's restricted to the labs anyway. Which is probably just as well. This complex is enormous, they couldn't find their way around in just one day. Give them a week, then maybe. A month, rather. John's ready to bet there are employees here who still get lost in the intricate layout after years of service. This isn't your usual military base, it's more like the huge British-American camps in Afghanistan, let's be real.

In front of the elevators, there's a brief interlude as they wait for the doors to open. ]

And all your labs are on level two. [ John inclines his head at the second lieutenant who nods in confirmation and replies to what was in reality a remark more than a question, almost all of them, sir. Meaning that there are some kept apart from the rest, probably due to the nature of what they're working on, okay. Eyeing the numbers on the panel, counting down from six, he waits only a minimal second before catching Taylor's eyes and nodding directly at his face. ] You've heard of shaving, correct? [ Immediately the man turns red as a beet, only keeping from touching his jawline by sheer force of will, in itself rather impressive. Raising an eyebrow, John waits for the ding of the elevator and the doors sliding open before stepping inside first, right past the other man. ] Then, I suggest you do it, Second Lieutenant. Tardiness doesn't look good on anyone.

[ As the elevator doors slide shut in front of them, Sherlock quirks a very quick smile despite himself. The officer - Taylor - looks properly chastised, simply nodding a Yes, Sir at John before closing his mouth, staring straight ahead with his hands folded behind his back. Christ, John can be very commanding when he wants to - though, Sherlock already knows, of course. Last time they had a... session, supposedly, in bed was a month ago before the coke and the comedown. Frowning, he very quickly pushes the thought from his mind. Not now, not the time, definitely not the place.

Would seem his sex drive has certainly returned, though.

As the doors slide open once more, he walks out behind John, taking in their surroundings quickly. Hallway, long, empty, white walls, no glass. Doors closed all the way down, numbered 045 to 099 (starting and ending on either side of them). The ventilation system is a low buzz, the air cool around them. Clean. Straight-backed, he follows as Taylor leads them down - down - down - passing door after door without even pausing. Sherlock pushes one hand inside his pocket, just to check at the sample is where it should be; he took a look at it back at the lodge and knows what sort of microscope he'll need for a proper analysis. It'll take a couple of hours, granted. He glances at John.

All right, so he's failed to inform John of that little detail but surely, they can play that part by ear. For some reason, the thought of John getting a bit tetchy with him whilst sporting that attitude does all sorts of interesting things to his stomach and uh, well, other parts. He wouldn't mind, that's all. Pissing him off a little. See what it looks like.

Ugh. Focus! ]

[ For someone as unobservant as Sherlock makes him out to be, John certainly does catch a sidelong glance of that small smile. Raising an eyebrow slightly, he mostly just wants to tell the man to get his act together, fix his attitude, but of course he doesn't, instead keeping his posture straight and his gaze fixed straight ahead while the elevator moves downwards, into the deep. When the doors open again, Taylor shows them into a long hallway, corridor-like, with doors on either side, numbers counting from the mid-forties and up. The sound of their steps, three pairs, almost synchronized, echo between the walls. The air's clean, the ventilation good, naturally. To be expected down here. John thinks about the ventilation shafts at Ingram's house, wonders for a brief second how easily you could fill a place like this with the wrong kind of gas... A frown.

By door number 76, the second lieutenant comes to a halt, nodding at it in invitation, like he's afraid to open it first, now that John's given him a proper reprimand. These are the major labs, sir. John, in turn, raises an eyebrow -- at Taylor first, then he turns towards Sherlock, looking from him to the door and back, the other eyebrow going up, too. To emphasise his order, he steps aside a little. Gives the other man room to come forward, the labs are his area, after all. ]

You heard the second lieutenant, Holmes. Let's go.

[ Christ, he must come off as the most pedantic captain in the history of... but that one's for the dirty smiling, Sherlock, making him remember how he fingered your arse the last time, made you beg for it, made you ask to come. Pursing his lips for a second, he shifts from one foot to the other, feeling certain parts of him, rather uninvited in this context, actually, brought to animated life. Good thing he didn't wear jeans today, yes. Very good thing. ]

[ ... Holmes? Oh, John, you evil man. Sherlock blinks at him for all of two seconds before falling right back into his cover, probably coming off quite dim but what can you really do? He feels dim. Completely devoid of substance, actually, apart from the heat currently building in his abdomen. God, he knew this would happen! Distracted during a case, might as well just sit down and call it a day! Lips thinning, he manages a somewhat faint Yes, Sir, the words alone making the arousal surge as he steps past John and heads inside the lab.

The lab itself is very standard (once again, such normalcy) for a reasonably well-funded establishment. He eyes the different pieces of equipment, gaze landing on the GC-MS instruments. Very purposefully, he tracks around the lab and gives everything else cursory overlooks, mostly because, well, time. They're alone in the lab right now, apart from Taylor who obviously isn't expecting him to find anything noteworthy.

Sherlock pauses. Glances sideways at John and clears his throat. He's about ten uncomfortable seconds away from a boner, basically. He gestures at the GS-MS machine. ]

There's a known instability associated with this particular model - [ Not really. ] - so to make sure, I'd like to run it.

[ Sherlock goes about his business, checking but not checking (John has seen what he looks like when he's really bloody checking) the equipment of the lab that the other man has led him into, in complete and swift compliance with his orders and isn't that nice, Sherlock actually doing what you tell him to. John will never stop marvelling over how that is a thing, no matter the context, though it's honestly more fun when he's got his cock down his throat, let's be real here.

Placing himself off to the side, standing at ease with Taylor shifting a bit restlessly from foot to foot next to him, he just watches Sherlock make his way around, noticing how he fixates on something in particular a couple of seconds before he stops in front of the instruments in question, gesturing at them and making up a rather believable lie about instabilities and malfunctions or whatever and -- oh. He's not really asking, but he kind of is, anyway and if John wasn't in a commanding mode already, that would definitely do the trick, shit.

He licks his lips. Mirrors the second lieutenant and shifts from one foot to the other slightly, tightening his pose mostly to steel himself. Come on, Watson, not now. Not now. He can almost hear it in Sholto's voice, too which really isn't helping whatsoever. Raising his chin, he pierces Sherlock with a look, mostly saying I am going to devour you, but also saying you're amazing, keep it up and yet, sticking to a rough: ]

Go ahead. We don't have all day, do we.

[ Taylor, on his right, shrinks a little at his tone of voice, but probably also at the prospect of being stuck here with them for the next, what, have they got ten minutes left? Sherlock better be quick about this. How long will it take, the second lieutenant asks, timidly, not quite directing it at Sherlock, because he obviously wouldn't dare, but neither directing it at John solely. John looks at Sherlock expectantly, since it's actually a very good question and how long is the man expecting them to be here? His best guess is that they're down to eight minutes, before Mycroft's clearance has run its course. ]

Edited 2020-05-11 11:52 (UTC)

[ He gets out his sample and looks over the rest of the equipment, doing a lightening fast calculation of prep time, then processing, analysing... ]

One hour. [ Mostly in reply to Taylor, though he takes a second to add: ] Sir. [ Hm. It doesn't feel nearly close to addressing John in the same manner, does it. He quickly adds that tiny bit of data to his John!file, sorting it under potentially sexual and leaves it, disregarded for now. Instead, he gets to work. The steps associated with a gas chromatography aren't difficult or complicated to remember; he picks the most likely analysis and lets the systems run as needed.

All the while, he keeps John in the back of his mind, his straight-backed posture, his bossy corrections and the tone of his voice - mm. Definitely fodder for the file and slightly distracting, still, even though he's zoning in on what he's doing with habitual automatization. As the machine beeps, he taps it, eyes narrowing for a second in concentration. He needs to know what's gone into this gas - because something must have, surely, something perhaps less advanced than you'd normally expect from a case like this. He notes, distantly, that Taylor's leaving the room and it really goes to show how distracted he is by the mind-blowing combination of John in military-mode and analysing these compounds that he notices only once the man's halfway out the door.

Oh, well. In... five minutes, they'll have bigger problems. ]

[ However much that John may be at home in a military environment, Sherlock's twice as home in the scientific department and watching him work the sample is in every way to watch the work of a professional. However, because Sherlock's also a dick -- and right now, not the nice, hardening kind, it's a very ambivalent look John's shooting him while he prepares his petri dish and starts the machinery. The kind that halfway wants to shag his brains out and halfway wants to knock him out. One assumes not at the same time, because that would be pathetic and very unfortunate, yes. Hands behind his back he allows Sherlock the freedom to work as he wants while Taylor remains next to him, seeming less interrupted and more saved by the bell when his phone eventually rings. He gestures to John that he'll need to take this one, sorry, I'll be right back, though he doesn't leave until John has confirmed by way of a curt nod that it's acceptable. Good boy.

Christ, he's beginning to enjoy this too much, isn't he? Who'd have thought.

Still, once the second lieutenant has left the room, John walks slowly, very slowly, no hurrying here, sir, over to the table by which Sherlock's working, stopping next to the other man, close enough that their shoulders brush at the movement, leaning in against him slightly, enough that he can lower his voice to a deceptively soft whisper and say: ]

How long have we got left? Five minutes? How the hell do you expect us to stay on this base for a full hour, Sherlock?

[ He shifts from foot to foot, listens for the sound of the door opening again, but there's nothing. Just the buzzing of the equipment working, the subtle breathing of Sherlock on his right. Drawing in a hard breath himself, John licks his lips, looks around the room. They don't invite people for high tea in this place, so basically, they're screwed. ]

[ He smiles very briefly at John's hushed words, the sharpness in his voice unmistakable. Who'd thought he'd like bossy!John quite so much? Who'd thought he'd be a turn on? Working in silence for a moment longer, very conscious of the minutes ticking by, his phone suddenly vibrates in his pocket. On cue, brother dear. He gives John a look, then grabs his phone, gaze gliding over the screen quickly before he turns it in John's direction. take your time. - mycroft. Naturally, the underlying sarcasm's hard to miss, even by text, but his brother can be forgiven this time. This once. ]

There, you see. [ His voice is low, hushed, as he goes from one machine to the next. ] We're not the only ones with a stake in this particular little problem.

[ He pockets the phone again, keeps working. Watches the processes, the numbers, imagining the graphs and trying to calculate beforehand how they're going to turn out. Can't guess, mustn't. But there are signs. Implications. He shoots John another look, one eyebrow very slightly quirked before he gives him a slow but very obvious look-over, from top to bottom and right back up. His cock warms just slightly and he turns away quickly, willing himself to stay focused. It won't be too long and they'll be walking out of here, their sample well-analysed and the data, hopefully, magnified as a consequence.

And his John!file, expanded. ]

[ As a way of replying, quite pointedly too, Sherlock fishes out his phone and shows it to John, a very brief and very sarcastic message from Mycroft lighting up the screen. Okay, then, big brother's got his fingers in this particular pie as well, he shouldn't be surprised and perhaps, he isn't. The government wouldn't let anyone just wander onto a secret military base with secret military projects without some level of supervision. Especially not a far-from-private detective and his far-from-happy assistant, no. Watching Sherlock as he's testing away, John narrows his eyes at him and cocks his head, then runs his gaze over their immediate surroundings, still abandoned, Taylor not back from his apparently very pressing call. Then again, no one over the phone's going to comment on his bad shave, are they?

When he returns his attention to Sherlock again, the man gives him a look-over, the elevator kind, from head to toe, lingering somewhere nicely in between. They're definitely walking a tightrope here, because as much as John would like to bend him in over the counter, among all those fancy machines, and finger him until even Taylor couldn't ignore the sounds any longer, that's not happening and just because Sherlock can seemingly turn those -- instincts on and off, John really, really can't. Sorry. A small frown, then he leans right back in there. ]

Not warning me that this would happen -- a bit not good, yeah?

[ Not good, here, is pronounced somewhere between you've been very bad and don't get too excited for later and he licks his lips as he straightens up again, just in time for Taylor to return to the lab, looking flustered and a bit red, so either he's been eavesdropping which isn't very likely or he's been running. John walks slowly, calmly, back, placing himself next to the other man who mirrors him at attention. The minutes tick by.

Because they can take their time, apparently. ]

[ There's a moment of silence when Sherlock simply works in peace, drifting back into that very particular modus of thought that characterises his casework. One beat, two - and then, John leans into his personal space (scent of that subtle cologne he uses, very mild, just enough to layer his own, natural scent; a brush of clothes, Sherlock's upper arm, John's shoulder). A bit not good he says and it wouldn't be anything remarkable or new, except there's something... something very striking about the way he says it. His tone of voice. The implications. Sherlock blinks, fast. Loses sight of the numbers for a moment as he realises exactly what's just happened.

He made John tetchy. And in return... Because he's been a bit not good...

Breathing out harshly, he crumbles his hands into fists for a moment to re-collect himself. He registers Taylor's return vaguely, like a thoroughly irrelevant afterthought. God. Shaking his head, he drifts closer to John, making it look accidental - the way he touches their shoulders together again with a gentleness that says yes, all right though he isn't quite certain what he's agreeing to. Doesn't matter, really. Whatever it is, it'll be... good. Yes. It'll be fine. He puts some distance between them once more, purposefully so, and turns his attention fully back to the matter at hand. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only