Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

Hacked	By : SoftPurpleSherlockian Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 4354 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters and am making no money off of this story.

Chapter List
- 19
- 20
- 21
If Sherlock had been expecting some sort of outburst from John, he was sadly mistaken. The doctor, wanting to make sure he’d heard correctly, simply straightened his back and turned at the top of the stairs. “Sorry, your what?” he asked in a calm tone.
Sherlock rocked back on the heels of his feet and let out an irritated sigh, “or partner if you prefer.”
John continued to stare at the detective with a blank expression on his face.
“Honestly, John. You’re the reason we’re even in this predicament in the first place.”
The doctor shook his head, bewildered as to how this was somehow his fault. “Come again?”
“Did you or did you not give that woman at the gallery the distinct impression that you and I had more than a working relationship when you stepped in and grabbed me?”
John thought back to the events of the previous day and groaned, his possessiveness had indeed landed them in the situation they were currently facing, but damn if seeing that pretty blonde touching Sherlock hadn’t set his teeth on edge.
“As such,” Sherlock continued, “I can only assume she told Hance to expect both of us, seeing as his message suggested as much.”
John closed his eyes; this was going to be a long day. His thoughts were interrupted by Sherlock.
“I’m sorry the notion is so appalling to you, John.” Sherlock’s voice had taken on a sneering tone that John had come to recognise whenever his friend lashed out in anger. “Apparently I incorrectly assumed you would be amendable to the arrangement for the sake of the case. I apologise.” The doctor watched as Sherlock fumbled for his phone. “I’ll text Hance and let him know that it will just be me today.”
Racing down the stairs wasn’t even something John was aware he had done until he was looking up at the blue/green eyes of his friend. “No, Sherlock. It’s fine, it’s all fine. You just surprised me, that’s all. We can’t all process stuff as quickly as you, you know.” The lines on Sherlock’s face softened as John continued to speak. “I just needed a minute to wrap my head around the idea, yeah?”
The doctor watched as Sherlock’s eyes searched his own. Content that he had found what he was looking for, the detective nodded and turned to his own room to get ready.
A million thoughts rushed through John’s head as he watched his friend walk across the room. He was clearly upset, though he would deny it if asked, and John felt the guilt wash over him, knowing that he was the cause of the detective’s state.
“Sherlock?” he called and watched as the taller man paused outside of the door, his arm outstretched and fingers curling around the handle.
“Mmm?”
“The idea isn’t appalling.”
The ebony curls tumbled forward as Sherlock gave a curt nod before retreating into his room. John felt a smile tugging on the corners of his lips and followed suit, wondering what he was possibly going to wear that would complement his pretend lover.
*

*

*
The cab ride to the café was a pleasant one. There was no idle chit-chat, no rehearsing or hashing out details of their would-be relationship like John thought there would be, instead, a comfortable silence filled the air as they rode together in the quiet. John was absentmindedly playing with the buttons on the cuff of the shirt he was wearing. The long sleeved light blue button up was under a grey waistcoat that he kept buried at the back of his wardrobe. It was that moment Sherlock turned to face the smaller man and said, “Stop fidgeting, John. You look fine. Good.” He cleared his throat, “You look good.”
John smiled as he noted the small twinge of pink creeping up the cheeks of the man next to him. “Thanks, gotta make people believe that someone like you would go for someone like me, eh?”
Before Sherlock could argue, the taxi was pulling up to the kerb. Sherlock shifted in his seat and averted his eyes. “John, we should probably discuss…”
The doctor cut him off, “Just let me handle it, alright?”
A small frown formed on Sherlock’s mouth and his brow furrowed.
John locked eyes with the detective. “Do you trust me, Sherlock?”
“Of course,” the man answered without hesitation and John grinned as his heart clenched.
“Alright. Good. So let me worry about everything, okay?”
Sherlock nodded.
“You just be brilliant and do whatever it is you need to do with Hance.”
Again, Sherlock nodded his understanding and John felt something stirring deep within him as his eyes drank in the man sitting within arm’s reach.
‘Yes, John,’ The doctor said, never letting his eyes leave Sherlock and watched the look of confusion pass over his beautiful features. John elaborated, “if we’re going to pretend to be in a relationship, we’re going to have to do it the only way I know how. Don't say too much, and for the love of God don't be clever! Best if you just talk when Hance asks you a question. Just let me take the lead, yeah?” John asked apprehensively, still testing the waters and seeing how far he could push this.
“Yes, John,” came the immediate response and the doctor’s heart gave a leap at Sherlock’s willingness, though he really didn’t expect anything less.
“Good.”
The pair exited the taxi after Sherlock paid the fare, and once John came to stand alongside the detective, he wove his fingers through the hand that wasn’t carrying the large canvases and he felt his friend tense at the contact. “Trust me.” John gave his fingers an affectionate squeeze and used his free hand to pull open the café door. Reluctant as he was to do so, he loosened his grip from Sherlock’s so he could usher the taller man into the building through slight pressure at the small of his back, feeling no guilt what so ever about allowing his fingers to graze over the fabric of Sherlock’s jacket. John decided he was going to enjoy this very much.
The two stepped into the building and John looked around. The place was small, but decorated in a way that gave the illusion it was bigger on the inside. There were only a handful of tables that were occupied and he felt oddly relieved at the quaint charm the business possessed.
In the far left corner, at the table against the window, a man rose and started making his way over to the duo, still standing just inside the doorway. As the gentleman approached, John took in his appearance. He looked to be close to John in age, mid to late thirties, with a prominent dark brown goatee and a couple days’ worth of growth that gave him a thin beard across his cheeks. He was dressed down in a tee shirt and pair of jeans with faded shoes. Overall, he looked stereotypically American. How else could the gallery owner think it was acceptable to dress that way in public?
Still, John kept his opinions to himself and when the man reached them the doctor was polite and extended his hand, offering a greeting before Sherlock had a chance to open his mouth. John didn’t quite know what information the detective was looking for, but he wasn’t going to let him insult the man before even saying hello and blow the case. “John Watson,” he said as he grasped the man’s callused hand. “James I presume? You’ve already spoken to my Sherlock here.” John said while gesturing to the man standing dutifully at his side.
“Yeah, I have. What’s up man?” James asked and extended his fingers in Sherlock’s direction.
The detective gave him a polite handshake while continuing their introductions. “Mr. Hance, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Call me James.”
Sherlock nodded. “James. Shall we?” He tilted his head back towards the table their suspect rose from.
“Absolutely,” came Hance’s reply and he turned to walk back to his seat.
Even though his back was turned and he couldn’t see them, John took Sherlock’s hand in his own and led him through the café. Admittedly, he enjoyed the feeling of Sherlock’s fingers intertwined through his.
The three men took their seats and Sherlock tucked the paintings between his and John’s chairs, propping them up with the legs.
“I can’t tell you how excited Sherlock was to hear from you. Isn’t that right, love?” The doctor looked up at his friend who was sitting still as a statue.
“Yes, John.”
“Not a problem. Andrea’s always keeping her eye open for new talent on my behalf.” Hance replied, nodding in Sherlock’s direction “and I think she might have had a little crush on ya.” The man let out a small laugh “Too bad for her though, huh?”
John smiled and threw his arm around Sherlock’s shoulders. Their height difference made it slightly awkward, but neither man seemed to mind. “Too bad indeed,” John laughed with Hance. “I’m a tad possessive and I’m afraid I don’t share.” The doctor made no apologies for the blush that was crawling up Sherlock’s face, and instead shrugged his shoulders while maintaining the low chuckle rumbling from his throat.
“So” Hance said, getting straight to the point of their meeting, “show me what you brought, Sherlock.”
John was impressed that Sherlock didn’t immediately reach for the canvases; instead he turned to face the doctor before moving at all towards the paintings.
John gave a small nod of approval, only then did the detective grab the pieces he had tucked away between them. John watched as he passed them across the table to the gallery owner, a blank expression was on Sherlock’s face. As Hance studied the paintings, Sherlock was studying him.
Taking the opportunity in the silence, John took his free hand and started drawing little circles on Sherlock’s thigh while massaging his neck with the hand he had thrown over his shoulders only moments before.
Hance held up the painting that Sherlock had done that morning. It was the one that had literally been done in five seconds with a single splatter of the brush coming down through the air. “This!” Hance exclaimed excitedly. “This is fucking amazing! The energy, the emotion! You can really tell there was a lot of feeling poured into it. This, this is true art.”
The doctor could feel the insults burning through Sherlock, threatening to spew from his lips at any second. John did the only thing in his power to do at the moment. He took his fingers and squeezed the back of Sherlock’s neck. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm.
“That’s exactly what I told him, James.” John matched the enthusiastic tone of the artist sitting across the table. “He almost didn’t bring that one, you know, didn’t think you’d appreciate it.”
“Nah, man, it’s perfect. You can really feel the passion that went into it!” Hance babbled on incessantly about Sherlock’s unique vision and his artistic ability. With every word that left Hance’s mouth, John could tell Sherlock was becoming increasingly annoyed. The doctor could practically hear the man next to him ‘but John, it’s an absolute disgrace to real art. How can this imbecile have an artistic bone in his body? Botticelli is probably turning in his grave at this very moment.’ He squeezed Sherlock’s neck harder and could see the detective fighting to keep still.
“I’m glad you like it.” Sherlock finally said, and John rewarded him with a small pat on the thigh.
“Alright, so yeah. The show is on Friday night at six and I’d really like to put this one up. Of course you understand that I’ll pick what I think is a fair price, and it goes without saying that I’ll get a percentage of whatever the piece goes for.”
It was John who spoke up for Sherlock. “Of course. We’re just excited to find someone willing to take a chance on a new name.”
Sherlock appeared unaffected and John needed to make him at least pretend to be excited to hear his work was going to be displayed in a professional gallery. The smaller man, feeling confident that Sherlock wanted it to happen, didn’t give a single thought to what happened next. His hand, still around Sherlock’s neck, gave a gentle tug and brought the detective’s face level with his own before crushing their lips together in an all too quick, searing kiss.
When they parted, Sherlock was looking into John’s eyes for answers. The doctor smiled up at him, “all of it’s finally paying off, love. Doesn’t that make you happy?” Putting emphasis on the last word, and Sherlock quickly caught on, understanding sweeping over his face.
He gave the biggest, most fake smile imaginable and turned to James “I can’t thank you enough for this opportunity.”
“Sure thing man. Everyone’s gotta start somewhere, right?” reaching into the pocket of his jeans, Hance produced two slips of white paper. “Here are the tickets to Friday’s show. I’ll see you then.” The gallery owner was nearly to the door before he turned. “Hey, Sherlock? What do you call this piece anyway?”
The corners of Sherlock’s mouth lifted into a genuine smile “I call it: Ode to Anderson”
At that, John let out a laugh he had been containing since the pair sat down. The detective flicked his eyes over to the doctor and smirked, knowing that John was the only other person who would have appreciated it.
As soon as James Hance was out of the building and well down the road, John turned, looked up at his friend, and did his best impersonation of the gallery owner. “Man, you really got vision! So many feelings went into this!” The two burst into a fit of giggles and John continued, “I wonder what that poor bloke would think if I told him you just, literally threw some paint at the canvas?”
Sherlock gave him a sheepish, toothy smile but didn’t respond. He was too enamoured with John’s hand still resting on his leg and making no effort to move.
- 19
- 20
- 21
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Hacked