bless the hotel

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

They wake up again.

It's different this time. Rather than face to face, Jim's back is to Sherlock's chest, and Sherlock's arm is folded over him protectively. Suits gone, both in rumpled men's pajamas.

Comments

[napoleonofcrime]

He slowly wakes up, with the distinct feeling that someone is wrapping their arm around him- it's odd, a little suffocating, and with a sinking of his heart, he realizes that he knows who it is.

"Sherlock."

Quiet, murmured.

"We have got to stop meeting like this."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"Mmnh?"

A little slower to rise. Nuzzling against the back of his neck.

[napoleonofcrime]

That sends a chill through his spine.

"Shrelock."

A little more warning to his tone.

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

Oh. He shoots upright, scrambling up.

"Jim?"

[napoleonofcrime]

"You were cuddling me."

Flopping onto his back with a sigh.

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"I'm sorry. That's never happened before."

Shaken.

[napoleonofcrime]

"No."

He sits up, a little abruptly.

"I'm starting to think the hotel has it in for us."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"It must, if it's creating situations like this."

Frankly incomprehensible.

[napoleonofcrime]

He glances back toward Sherlock with a jaunty little grin.

"Maybe it's a romantic at heart."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"A young, romantic woman."

Scrubbing at his eyes.

[napoleonofcrime]

"Trying to make to strapping young men like us fall in love."

Jim giggles, before glancing down at himself.

"The pajamas are a nice touch."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"Neither of us qualifies as strapping."

He has to correct.

[napoleonofcrime]

"I don't know about you, but I feel rather strapping."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

Sherlock stares at him.

Jim is sometimes very strange.

[napoleonofcrime]

He grins.

"Feeling alright?"

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"No."

He admits.

"No, I feel unsteady."

[napoleonofcrime]

"And how does that make you feel?"

Resting his chin on his palm, mocking the part of the therapist.

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

He isn't sure how to answer that, so he stops talking instead, letting out a confused breath.

[napoleonofcrime]

There's a pause, as Jim reassesses the situation, before turning on the bed, crossing his legs in front of him.

"Alright. I've got a proposition for you, Sherlock."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"I'm listening."

And promising nothing.

[napoleonofcrime]

"You'd better be."

He looks- different in the pajamas somehow, all soft and cuddly, his hair unkempt from sleep. Smaller, almost. Like a real person, instead of a bomb waiting to explode.

"The times we've met before, we've complied because we were under the notion that we had to- and we might have very well been. But with a few offhand comments and a glance at a note, we can already glean the nature of the hotel. And darling, if we put our minds to it, I bet we could do a whole lot more than glean."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"You're proposing cooperation."

Obviously.

"But for what? I understand the aim, but not the proposed methodology."

[napoleonofcrime]

"It doesn't have to be now."

Crawling forward a little, his eyes searching Sherlock's own- alight, devious, excited.

"We can tumble and open the door now, but our eyes will be open, yes? There'll be times when she'll slip- the handwritten note, that was a doozy- and we'll catch her and profile her. Sooner or later, we'll have enough information to try and mount a defense."

[lostwithoutmyblogger]

"We'll compare notes. On outside events, interference, the patterns our days take."

He proposes.

"Contrast our sexual histories and the demands made of us. Presume, for argument's sake, that every sexual interaction is orchestrated, in one way or another- understand similarities, patterns, discrepancies."

[napoleonofcrime]

"Yes, now you're getting it."

Gleeful.

"You'll have to try very, very hard, but I think it's manageable."