Summary: Sherlock is bored.
Warnings: Sexting and silliness
Date: 22 July 11
Prompt from Watson's Woes: Epistolary fic, fluff genre
Requirements: BBCSherlock verse: Fanmail
A/N: Yes, I did this challenge already, but this one popped into my head and I had to write it. Written late last night on my phone after two very large glasses of wine. No beta.
John? Are you even checking your messages? I. Am. Bored, bored, BORED!
Please don't yell.
Still yelling. Isn't there a body or something to occupy you?
I'd rather have YOUR body occupy me.
I'm at WORK, Sherlock.
What are you wearing?
Are we really doing this?
What. Are. You. Wearing?
We *are* doing this. All right. Deduce it.
You went into my closet and figured I went to work naked, did you?
All right. I love your idea of foreplay. [/sarcasm]
Sorry. I'm naked. What am I doing?
You're touching yourself in a very non-boring way.
And what are you doing while I'm not being boring?
I'm watching you.
That's it? You could at least participate. Get naked. Touch yourself.
Are you thinking of me?
I'm boring? Thanks so much. I'm putting my clothes back on.
That's not what I meant. And you haven't any clothes.
No. Now you're lying on your back on the bed.
Your bed or mine?
Good. My sheets -- never mind. Go on. What am I doing now?
Now, you're watching me crawl up your naked body. I'm kissing your legs, your stomach
Shit. Got to go. Emergency. Multi-gunshot. Sorry. Bugger!
I was hoping to, yes.
Save it until I get home. Think you can entertain yourself til then?
I can try.
Don't try too hard. I wouldn't want to miss out.
Hurry home soon as you can.
I promise. <3