emmagrant01 | FIC: Just a Kiss (John/Sherlock, 2/6)

Title: Just a Kiss (2/6)
Author: Emma Grant
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Rating: R overall
Summary: Five times John and Sherlock kissed because of a case and one time they kissed for real.
Words: 2200 this part (3500 total)
Notes: This is a little story I've been playing with and finally had to write down to get it out of my head so I can move on to other things.
Links: Part 1: On AO3 | On LJ
This part: On AO3

Two

"What am I missing?" Sherlock's pacing had grown strident, his expression of frustration now threatening to spread from his face to his entire body. "There are no injection wounds, no evidence the poison was drunk or eaten or inhaled."

"I suppose it's pointless to remind you that toxicology turned up no poisons?" Lestrade leaned against his desk, arms crossed over his chest.

Sherlock scowled at him. "Oh for-- Do we really have to go through this again?"

"Why not, while we're waiting for toxicology to re-run the same set of tests we ran two days ago?"

"If you'd called me to come to the crime scene this entire case would be solved already."

"You're lucky I let you look at the evidence at all, considering what you pulled last time."

Sherlock rounded on him, clearly spoiling for a fight. "After what I pulled? Are you--"

"Oh, for fuck's sake." John took Sherlock's elbow and tugged him over to the desk. The photos from the crime scene were spread across the surface, showing multiple views of the victims. Two ghostly faces peered up at them: a teenaged girl and boy lying on the girl's flowered duvet, arms twined around each other in apparent death -- the girl was actually dead; the boy still alive, but in a coma (long-term prognosis uncertain). No marks on the bodies, no evidence of foul play at the scene. The families indicated there was no trouble at home, and both sets of parents approved of the relationship between their children. There had been no previous indication of trouble, nothing to suggest either teen was suicidal. Apparent attempted double suicide, but why?

John loosened his grip on Sherlock's elbow and pointed at the photos. "This is why we're here, Sherlock, to work out what killed these kids. Shouting at Greg isn't going to make the toxicology report get here any faster."

Sherlock shot him a dark glare but kept his mouth shut. He focused instead on the photos, undoubtedly cataloging everything he'd already noticed, reorganizing it in his brain. John glanced over Sherlock's shoulder at Greg, who raised his eyebrows.

After an interminable minute of thick silence, the office door opened and a lab tech poked her head in. "D. I. Lestrade? Toxicology confirmed the previous results. No sign of any poison."

Sherlock stalked to the door and held out his hand. "Let me see the report."

The tech looked at Greg, who made a whatever gesture with one hand and nodded. She handed over the report with a strained expression and closed the door as she left.

"There must be something here, something they've missed." Sherlock frowned as he rifled through the report. "There's no other explanation." He glared at the report as if it had personally wronged him.

Greg leaned into John and nudged him with an elbow. "Nice to see even the great Sherlock Holmes can be stumped occasionally."

Sherlock made a sound of disgust and turned away, threading his fingers into his hair. "It can't be anything common, or you imbeciles would have known to look for it. Therefore it was something highly unusual, something--" He turned back to face them, his eyes wild. "The parents. What do their parents do for a living?"

"Ahmmm…" Greg crossed to the desk to flip through the case file. "Here it is. The girl's mother is an investment banker, her father is a chemist. The boy's--"

"What sort of chemist?"

Greg frowned at the file. "The sort that dispenses prescription medications. In a pharmacy." He shrugged. "We can find the name of the pharmacy if you like."

"There won't be one," Sherlock replied. John recognized the look on his face all too well, that look that meant he'd just worked it all out. "And you should send someone out to arrest him for treason. No, scratch that; call Mycroft."

"What?" John and Greg asked simultaneously.

Greg's mobile rang and Sherlock whipped his own mobile from his pocket, texting furiously as he continued. "That's him now, actually. He's going to tell you that this case is now out of your hands, that his people will handle it."

Greg glanced at his mobile and shot an incredulous look at John. "Lestrade. Yes, Mr. Holmes, I--" His jaw tightened as he listened, and John could only shake his head in astonishment. "Right," he said after a long silence. "I understand. I'll let him know." He dropped the mobile on the desk in apparent frustration.

"Well?" Sherlock's tone was so expectant it was almost indecent.

"How the hell did you know that would happen?" Greg shook his head. "Yes, the case has been classified and we're to hand over all evidence. To you, apparently."

"Ha!" Sherlock said, pocketing his phone with far more enthusiasm than was appropriate for the circumstances. It rang again almost instantly and he grinned at the screen as he retrieved it. "Mycroft, hello," he said and leaned back against Greg's desk. He listened for two full minutes -- likely a record considering Mycroft was doing the talking -- and then said, "Right," and ended the call. He grinned at Greg.

"Oh don't give me that look," Greg said, rolling his eyes. "I've been ordered to falsify our records and not talk to the media. How the hell we're supposed to cover up a dead girl and her incapacitated boyfriend is beyond me."

"Call it a drug overdose," Sherlock said. "Easy enough. It's still unclear how the substance got into the bodies, though, and why it only killed one of them."

"Would anyone care to tell me what the hell is going on?" John threw his hands up. He should probably take Mycroft up on that security clearance he kept offering just to keep up.

Greg looked at Sherlock, who turned to look at John. "Oh, come on, it's obvious. A teenager is dead and her boyfriend in a coma, neither with any motive to commit suicide nor any previous record of trouble or drugs abuse. All evidence points to some sort of poison, but nothing that shows up in any lab tests. The two were seen alive and well a half hour before they were found, so the poison was not only undetectable but extremely powerful. Weapons grade, in fact. Where would an average middle-class teenager get hold of something like that?"

"On the street?" John asked, but then shook his head. "No, you asked about the father. You think he's not just a chemist."

"An ordinary chemist wouldn't have access to top secret chemical weapons. But a chemist working in one of the top secret government labs would."

John winced. "Oh God -- there are scientists developing chemical weapons in secret government labs?"

Sherlock gave him an odd look. "Of course there are. You were in the army. How is that a surprise to you?"

John pinched the bridge of his nose. "Not important. Go on."

"His wife is an investment banker, not an easy business to be in right now. Perhaps they needed the extra money or perhaps he was disgruntled with his work. Whatever the reason, he brought home a vial of that substance with the intention of selling it on the black market."

John shuddered. "What does it do?"

"Mild hallucinogen, according to Mycroft. Airborne distribution, intended to be misted over an area to subdue a population. The girl must have overheard him telling someone what it was, thought it would be an interesting way to get high, so she nicked it and shared it with her boyfriend."

"So what, they drank it?" Lestrade asked. "It makes sense that it killed her, but what about the boy? He isn't dead."

"Yes, exactly." Sherlock pressed his fingertips together under his chin. "He must not have received a large dose. The father was the one who found them and called the paramedics. He must have found the empty vial and disposed of it before they arrived."

"His daughter and her boyfriend lay there dying and he didn't tell the paramedics what they'd taken?" Greg's tone was incredulous.

"He thought they were dead. He knew the toxin was undetectable. No purpose would have been served by revealing what he knew at that point."

Greg shot John an incredulous look and John could only shrug in response. Sherlock.

"So the girl got a large dose and the boy a very small one. According to Mycroft, the amount missing from the lab is less than two milliliters, so small it almost went undetected, but large enough to incapacitate a city block if distributed properly." Sherlock frowned.

"Two mils?" John shook his head. "They would've had to use an eyedropper to take it."

"One of them could have done," Sherlock said. "But not the other; there wasn't enough. So clearly the girl ingested most of it, which she could have done by merely dropping it on her tongue, and the boy… it must have gone airborne or something." He stroked his chin with his fingers and looked thoughtful.

John and Greg exchanged a glance.

"Don't tell me you haven't worked that part out." John folded his arms over his chest and allowed himself a smug smile.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"Think about it. They were found on her bed. In her bedroom."

Sherlock's expression didn't change. "Yes. So?"

"So they were snogging, you idiot. That's how he got a non-fatal dose."

Sherlock stared at him as if he'd grown a second head. "That's ridiculous."

John looked over at Greg, who rolled his eyes. "It's completely obvious, Sherlock."

"Unless she applied it like lipstick I don't see how something she ingested could wind up in his digestive system."

Greg coughed to cover his outburst of laughter, which only annoyed Sherlock further.

John shook his head in amazement. "You can't be serious, Sherlock."

Sherlock glanced back and forth between them; a small worry line had appeared between his eyebrows. "I am, but please, don't let that stop your mockery."

"Maybe you should show him," Greg said, snickering.

John responded with an eye roll, but Sherlock nodded. "Yes, John. Show me."

John gaped at him. "What?"

"Or admit that you're wrong." Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

Greg's grin faded into something more like incredulity. "Well, now. This I want to watch."

John glared at him. "You're taking the piss, aren't you? Both of you."

Sherlock's mobile pinged and he plucked it from his pocket to glance at the screen. "Show me or don't, I don't care. But get on with it; I've work to do."

John laughed, more from disbelief than any sort of humor about the situation. Oh, hell -- why not? It was getting late, and if this got him home and into his bed at a more decent hour than he would otherwise, it was a hardship he was willing to suffer.

"If I do this, you're buying me dinner. Tonight. And you'll actually eat and be pleasant about it."

"If I think you're correct, then yes. Deal." Sherlock looked smug, as if he had no idea what was about to happen. He probably didn't.

Oh, God.

"Fine," John said. "I just need… aha." He crossed to a bookshelf across the office and selected a piece of candy from a dish there. He unwrapped it and licked it once out of Sherlock's view, then crossed to him. "Tell me what you taste."

Sherlock looked bewildered. "What do you mean, what I taste?"

John stepped forward and took Sherlock's face in his hands before he could lose his nerve. He pulled Sherlock toward him and pressed their lips together. Sherlock stiffened against him almost immediately -- the whole thing was incredibly awkward. It was about to get weirder, though. In for a penny, as they say. John opened his mouth and pressed his tongue between Sherlock's lips.

Sherlock made an odd noise and clenched John's jacket with his hands. John loosened his grip on Sherlock's face as he felt his jaw slacken, allowing this intrusion. He curled his tongue around Sherlock's to maximize contact and was rewarded with a soft moan. It was nice, actually, this slow slide of tongues, wet and hot, and he lost himself in it for a few moments.

He heard a small noise behind him and pulled away before the situation got completely ridiculous. Sherlock stared at him with a dazed expression for nearly a second before he looked away and said, "Lemon."

"Correct." John held out his hand. "Phone, Greg."

"What?" Greg asked, sounding far too innocent. "Why do you need my phone?"

John turned to glare at him. Greg sighed and handed it over. John flipped through it quickly and deleted the photos Greg had just taken. Greg had the decency to look sheepish when John handed it back.

"So," John said, turning back to Sherlock. "Thai?"

"Yes, fine," Sherlock replied. He raised his fingertips to his lips.

Greg coughed. "Well, if that's all settled, I'll just gather up the evidence and let you two take it from here."

"Right." John ran a hand through his hair and felt his face grow warm. God, had he really just snogged Sherlock in front of Greg to prove a point? There would be no end to the talk now.

This was definitely not one for the blog.

*****

NOTE: Thanks for the comments on the last part! I thought I'd go ahead and post this one before I dive into working on the rest of chapter 3 of the Cure rewrite. I probably won't post more of this until next week, but I hope you enjoy this part. :-)

Read Part 3