Authors: Atlin Merrick, Ariane DeVere and Verity Burns
Word count: 221
Warnings: Slashy sex
Summary: John and Sherlock are reunited after a brief separation.
On a rather high-spirited (but not drunk at all, good lord no ...) weekend round at my place, Atlin Merrick, Verity Burns and I wondered what John and Sherlock would do after not seeing one another for a week. Here’s what we think happened when they, um, came together again.
"At Lin's birthday party, Sherlock… really?"
"I haven't seen you for a week, John. Seven days – 168 hours – it's unfeasible to wait any longer."
"Sherlock, Harry and Lin paid for this hotel room – we've got to at least go down and say hello."
"Oh, we'll go down, John."
"In twenty minutes."
"Thirty. Thirty minutes."
Sherlock swarmed close, pushing his tongue into John's mouth. A while later he purred, "Exactly right… shhhhh."
This time John didn't say anything. But he did a whole hell of a lot.
Sliding one hand down Sherlock's pants, he tugged his lover into a kiss with the other, then maneuvered those short but nimble legs until he had his sweetheart on the rug.
A few seconds more and trousers and pants were gone, and –
Moments more and long bare legs were spread wide, and –
The good doctor looked up, mouth wide open…
"The… uh… DeVere Hotel… has…"
… pressed his tongue to his bottom lip…
"… p-perfectly good… beds."
… pooled soft breath over a hard detective.
This time Sherlock said nothing.
Ninety-eight minutes and three orgasms later, John straightened Sherlock's tie, and smiled. "Well you look very smug, my love."
Sated, well-shagged, and more than a little sex-drunk, Sherlock grinned widely. "I should. I've got carpet Burns."
So this is what happens when Atlin Merrick and Verity Burns descend on the DeVere house: they kick me out of my bed, sleep together (oh the tales I could tell ...), eat all my bloody M&S cheese straws, and drink all my shiraz and coke (not in the same glass, I hasten to add). But while discussing the idea of writing a collaboration Verity came up with the idea of incorporating our names into the fic and then, while we were waiting for the boat to set off from Greenwich on our trip up the river, she scribbled down the first few sentences of the story before handing over to Atlin to write the porn. Because I can’t write to order like those clever buggers, I was left to come up with a suggestion for how to end the fic bearing in mind that the last word would have to be ‘Burns’. Without even thinking, I nonchalantly said over my shoulder to the girls, “Put ‘carpet’ in front of it.” How we didn’t get thrown overboard by the crew after twenty minutes of non-stop hysterical giggling I don’t know.
I’m not sure whether suggesting just one word makes me a co-author, but I’m honoured to have done any kind of collaborating with those two.
Brilliant weekend. Come back soon, babes.
Click across to Atlin’s and Verity’s blogs for their own version of events!! (Memories of the weekend may differ ...)
(So there I was writing my A.N. in the bedroom while the other two were on their laptops in the lounge writing theirs, and just as I was about to call out, “Umm, guys, I appear to have accidentally written a 221B for my Author’s Note,” Verity cried out triumphantly, “My Author’s Note is 221 words long!” She immediately went for a slight re-write to get a ‘b’ word at the end and then Atlin was all, “Hell, I’m not getting left out of this!”)
Oh, and the moment that Verity came up with the title of the fic is another great memory from the weekend ... which very nearly got us kicked off the London Underground.