Archive of Our Own

John is not sure what prompted it the first time. Well, he knows--he'd been itching to kiss those lips since that night at Angelo's, perhaps even as early as Mike's introduction--but looking back, he could never pinpoint what first gave him the courage to steal a kiss while Sherlock was quietly locked away in his Mind Palace.

Sherlock did not blip out of all time and space in favor of his Mind Palace on its every use, of course. When he needed to recall facts, he was quite like the bridge operator on some grand sci-fi vessel: working on dozens of invisible touch-screens, pushing away bad matches, and marking the things that were relevant. However, when Sherlock was what John could only call "indexing," when he was filing away knowledge for later, he was much more peaceful and meditative. It scared John the first time he witnessed it. He shook Sherlock and called his name, only getting a response after flipping open the lid of an eye to see if Sherlock was responsive to light. After that, these quiet and still occasions only seemed to add to Sherlock's mystique. Once, John opened a cabinet and poorly stacked pots clattered all out on the floor. Between the racket and John's swearing, Sherlock did not even flinch.

So, perhaps with the confidence that no one would ever know, John leaned in that first time and brushed a kiss across Sherlock's lips. He rocked back, peering at Sherlock's face to see if he had been discovered, but it seemed he had gotten away with it.

Sherlock only kicked John out of the room when he needed to search the Mind Palace. He did not seem to need the same privacy to simply store things away, so he did not care if John was present or not. John would be going about his business--going to work, coming home, making a snack, heading out for a pint with Greg--and there would be Sherlock, zoned out. Or zoned in, as was more to the point. After his first success with his stealth kiss, John tried it again. And again. Soon, it became sort of a habit.

He always started with how to position himself so as not to jostle Sherlock. John would then take a few moments to look at the man up close. He commonly got the chance, even when Sherlock was awake, but he could never truly gaze his fill. That he wanted to gaze at all used to alarm John, but he long ago ceased questioning it. After the looking came the kiss. Because John did not want to rouse Sherlock from his meditation, the kisses were never hard, long, or wet. After the first six or so, John started risking a little more pressure so he could feel the heat of Sherlock's lips, but he kept his tongue in his mouth and took care not to linger past a handful of seconds.

These kisses would come back to John's mind at inopportune times and he could not help but giggle to himself as he recalled the dozens and dozens of kisses he had snatched from an unassuming Sherlock. Other times, though, John felt acute twinges of guilt, because Sherlock had not once given him leave to kiss him. Then again, how many times had he kissed or been kissed without the question being asked outright? Very few women had said, "John Watson, may I kiss you?" They just leaned in and went for it. He argued with himself that he had at least been awake for those, though. In the end, the impulse to kiss won out over his impulse to respect Sherlock's personal space. Wrong or not, he found himself holding tightly to the memory of these secret smooches during his darker moods that seemed to come and go.

*****

Sherlock was dimly aware of John coming home. He had been sorting new research findings and was more or less just resting for a moment when he realized John had squatted next to him. He kept his eyes closed and his breathing even, wondering what John was up to. At least two minutes passed with no words or movement between them, only their breathing. Sherlock could smell a faintness of something savory--beef, maybe?--and a hint of beer on John's breath. John was not wearing cologne and Sherlock could not detect any of his other distinct personal grooming products he only trotted out to impress the ladies, so Sherlock concluded John must have been out to dinner with Lestrade. John seemed fairly steady and his breaths were not erratic, so Sherlock supposed the beer was to go with dinner and John had not attempted to get drunk.

There was a slight shift where John steadied his hand on the couch cushion and then, sweetly, John pressed his lips to his. Stunned, Sherlock didn't even think to calculate the duration. He struggled to not give himself away, intensely curious as to what John was attempting or what he might do next. John did not do anything next, as it went. After a pause, wherein Sherlock thought John was probably searching his face for signs of wakefulness, John stood and disappeared upstairs. Sherlock was left on the couch, lightly touching his lips with his fingers and wondering what had just happened.

Sherlock began researching John's behavior by deliberately doing Mind Palace retreats when he knew John would be home, or at least home soon. Those first tentative experiments were unsatisfying, as he merely woke to wonder if he had been kissed. After a couple tries, he started only pretending to be in his Mind Palace...and those times were wondrous! John approached him nearly every time, seemingly taking care with how and where to perch. There was always a hesitation (two minutes being the average) before John would kiss him. The kisses were tender and, although chaste, terribly exciting. Sherlock longed to kiss back, but he needed to collect more data. What was John doing? Moreover, why was he doing it? John never said a word, only providing him with kisses from which to work.

The kisses grew in length, from 2 seconds the first time Sherlock had the presence of mind to count to 9 seconds as of the latest occurrence. John always seemed a little uncharacteristically nervous when Sherlock "woke" from these Mind Palace jaunts, but he recovered quickly. John was a rather even and stoic sort--even his strops were uncommonly calm, particularly for a former military man. In fact, in the case of the latter, the quieter John was, the more dangerous his mood. Those eyes, though...those eyes seemed to hold every emotion the man had. More and more, they were looking Sherlock over with something in them Sherlock had tried to ignore from nearly their first night. Once he stopped trying to ignore it, he was stunned with the frequency in which it appeared. One day, as John was chiding him for some idiotic thing or other with this aching tenderness in his gaze, Sherlock realized he no longer wished to ignore it.

*****

John wandered downstairs to fetch a drink and noticed Sherlock in his chair, eyes closed, and very still. His legs were spread and his hands were flat on the arms of the chair. John grinned to himself. This was one of his favorite ways to catch Sherlock in his Mind Palace. He was glad Sherlock did not have his fingers steepled under his chin, as it made kissing without jostling him rather difficult. John fidgeted around in the kitchen, testing to see if Sherlock was going to rouse any time soon. When it seemed Sherlock was well and truly out, John crept over to him, standing against the chair between Sherlock's knees. John was careful not to bump Sherlock's long legs as he put himself into position.

The desire to touch had been building within John, growing stronger with each kiss he stole. He wanted to brush his fingertips over that face, hold Sherlock close, kiss him deeply enough to taste...all of those things that had been keeping John up late at night when he was alone in his bed. He did not dare do anything more than what he had been doing, which was already in a very morally hazy area at best. Sighing, he closed his eyes and moved in to take his kiss.

John had been about to lean back when a hand cupped the back of his neck, fingers sliding into his hair. The lips on his moved and John's eyes flew open with a start. John broke the kiss, the hand holding his head only letting him move so far. Sherlock blinked back at him, eyes smiling and his lips slightly twitching to do the same. John stared for a moment. He was horrified and embarrassed he had been caught but he was also shocked Sherlock was still holding him, that Sherlock had kissed him back. John swallowed hard and raised his eyebrows. Sherlock replied with the slightest nod. John surged forward again, lips open this time, with one hand cradling Sherlock's jaw and the other one pulling his body closer. Sherlock responded enthusiastically, slipping his tongue past John's lips as he urged him all the way into his lap.

"How...?" John panted when they broke for air.
"Shut up and kiss me."