#flustered john

So it wasn’t quite a prompt and even if it was, I didn’t quite follow it, but I hope you like this little bit of nonsense!

John noticed it first, nudging Lestrade and nodding at Sherlock. “Either someone’s been out clubbing or else he’s gone undercover at a strip joint,” he whispered with a grin as he pointed out the flecks of glitter caught in Sherlock’s tousled coif.

Lestrade grinned right back at him, a grin that promised mayhem for a certain consulting detective. “Oi, Sherlock!” he called out. “You’ve got something in your hair, anything you want to tell us, mate?”

Sherlock frowned at the two men from his seat at his favorite microscope in St. Bart’s Path Lab. He reached up and ruffled his curls, pulling his hand down and frowning at it when nothing seemed to come away. “I presume you’re taking the piss with me for some reason, Gavin,” he drawled, while the Detective Inspector rolled his eyes and John hid a laugh behind a cough. That joke would never get old.

He and Lestrade moved closer, the DI stopping directly behind Sherlock and peering down at the crown of his head with exaggerated interest. “Nah, no need when the evidence is right there, waiting to be deduced,” he said, reaching up and sliding a lock of Sherlock’s hair between his fingers. The evidence, as he’d called it, clung to his skin and he thrust his hand under Sherlock’s nose so he could see the flecks of silver and blue. “So, was it a case that required you to take pole dancing lessons, or did some sexy young thing get her body glitter all over you while you were out clubbing last night?”

He and John were both chortling at the joke when Molly Hooper walked in. Both immediately sobered, not wanting to tease Sherlock about possibly getting sexed up by some other woman, knowing that in spite of what Molly might have said once upon a time, that she’d never truly moved on. It was too bad that Sherlock would never be able to be the man she needed him to be, John was thinking regretfully, when he and Lestrade suddenly bore witness to a sight they’d never expected to see: Sherlock smiling softly and holding out his hand to Molly, who smiled back and took it in hers, somewhat self-consciously. Sherlock pulled her closer and snaked one arm around her waist, releasing her hand and brushing at her hair. “You still have some glitter, how long does it take this stuff to wash out?” he asked.

Lestrade and John were still gaping at the two of them as Molly blushed and looked down. “In my experience, at least three washes.”

“Hmm, three, eh?” He winked at her and pulled her even closer, murmuring, “Well, then, we’re two washes shy already. Fancy a go in my shower? I have one of those removable shower heads, we really should make sure all the glitter is washed off, shouldn’t we?”

Molly seemed about to protest, darting a glance at John and Lestrade, when Sherlock pulled her head down and gave her a long, lingering kiss that left no doubt as to the nature of his new relationship to the pathologist. When the kiss ended Molly was blushing, and Sherlock glanced over at the other two. “Well?” he snapped. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be right now?”

It was a bit of a race, but in the end John made it out the door before Lestrade. As the Detective Inspector followed him out, Sherlock’s voice calling after them brought a furious blush to both their cheeks: “Do lock the door, Graham, Molly and I won’t want to be interrupted for a while.”

“It’s Greg and you know it,” Lestrade muttered, barely loud enough for John to hear – but did as he’d been told. Then he turned to John, shook his head and said, “We will NEVER talk about this again.”