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[centurybaby]

seven minutes in heaven meme!

❤ post as your characters. ❤ ❤ other characters OR anon reply with another character's name! ❤ ❤ your character makes out with that character for at least 7 comments! ❤ ❤ underage characters can awkwardly hold hands. ❤

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[waiting]

[ Bradbury echoes Sherlock's snort, the amusement breaking the tension -- for him, at least -- and his shoulders relax, the tightness in them easing. ]

Pretty sure trying to set the mood would end up with your fist in my kidneys, so I'd rather not. [ And his breath rushes from him in an amused huff. ] Don't make this any weirder than it already is.

[ And that's all the warning Sherlock gets before Bradbury's hand finds his face in the darkness, thumb resting on his chin and tipping it up so he can plant a firm, close-mouthed his on his lips. ]

[deductives]

[Sherlock, about to reply that it really can't get much stranger, only manages a muffled syllable against Bradbury's mouth. Instinctively, his hands ball into fists against the floor. Bradbury was right about the punch, though kidneys may have been too forgiving a place. Now, he keeps his eyes off Rick's. as difficult as that is with them only inches away. He doesn't want to close them. That seemed a bit much. However, his lips do move, even if not enough to open his mouth.]

[waiting]

[ Even if Sherlock isn't closing his eyes, Bradbury is, partly because he doesn't want to go cross-eyed trying to look at someone so close, mostly because it just doesn't feel right to keep them open. Of course, nothing is right about this situation in the first place, so it's too little, too late.

But is this enough? The niggling worry lurks at the back of his mind. He certainly wouldn't classify this as making out. Hell, he thinks kissing a wall would be more sexual than this. So after a few heartbeats where he hesitates, turning the question over in his mind, he finally gives up and does what comes naturally.

Which is to say, he rudely and without warning sticks his tongue in. ]

[deductives]

[Though he'd also been wondering how they'd just sit there for a theoretical seven minutes just pressing their faces together, Sherlock doesn't expect Bradbury's next move at all. An attempt to protest by saying his name just comes out in a weird movement of air.]

Bbffr--

[He grabs Bradbury's arms, but he understands the reasoning. Unfortunately. After another moment if hesitation, Sherlock's grip turns to a normal hold, and he kisses Bradbury back with his eyes still half open.]

[waiting]

[ Moving forward has awkward consequences like whacking their noses together, something that hasn't happened to Bradbury since he was fifteen and trying to score behind the bleachers. Never mind how a cliche an image that is. He sighs -- internally and externally, breath fanning against Sherlock's face -- before he tips his head to make things go just a bit more smoothly, lining things up.

He isn't holding on to Sherlock anymore -- too awkward -- but his palms are pressed against the closet on either side, hemming him in. How much longer are they supposed to do this, anyway? ]

[deductives]

[Sherlock's eyes finally close when his nose gets scrunched against Bradbury's. When the other man's arms move, Sherlock finds himself sinking without the leverage, so he braces himself against Rick's chest.

Perhaps the one good thing about this is that he can taste Bradbury's last cigarette on his tongue. The vicarious nicotine intake placates him somewhat, and he tilts his head in the opposite direction of Bradbury's, trying to get what remained of it on his lips.]

[waiting]

[ Bradbury makes a startled noise against Sherlock's mouth -- not the motion, but the sudden enthusiasm, or at least what he can interpret as it. Despite initiating the kiss, it's the last thing he expected, but to his credit he doesn't recoil, letting Sherlock do whatever the hell it is he thinks he's doing, remaining passive under the press of his mouth.

Turnabout's fair play, after all. ]

[deductives]

[The enthusiasm, if that really is the right word, is more for the tobacco than Bradbury. He can tell it's a cheap American brand, but in trying times such as this, Sherlock would take what he can get, unconventional as this second hand smoke is.

Just as he pauses in the kiss to take a breath through his nose, however, he can hear the click of the lock opening on the door. He separates slightly from Bradbury, hoping he didn't imagine it.]

[waiting]

[ Definitely not imagining it, because when he breathes out, Bradbury freezes -- then yanks his head back so hard he might just have given himself whiplash when he turns around, blindly groping for the door handle.

This time, it gives way easily, and he's left blinking and dazed in the light. ]

Wow. So that actually worked.

[deductives]

[Sherlock just as quickly gets to his feet, tucking his knife back into his pocket and licking away the last taste of tobacco from the corner of his mouth as discreetly as possible.

He squints hard as the light comes through the door, making his face even more sour than normal when Bradbury speaks.]

I didn't suggest it for my health.

[He doesn't even want to think about what would have happened if he was wrong.]

[waiting]

[ He snorts, but now that the way is clear, he's slithering out of the closet, brushing himself off and getting out of the way so Sherlock can follow after.

Luckily, he misses the sight of Sherlock licking his lips clean. ]

Guess we're back in business.

[ Is he supposed to do something now? He's not entirely sure, but somehow he gets the feeling that he's better off the less he says. He suspects this is going to be one of those life-saving instances they'd both rather forget. ]

[deductives]

[If Bradbury didn't smoke, he wouldn't have had to distract himself that way. He can consider it a lesson in quitting.

Sherlock, glad to have his personal space back, follows Rick out of the closet at a distance. Christ, he needs to get more nicotine patches. He pulls up his collar despite being inside so he can disguise his blazing cheeks.]

Summarily. Though we're going to have to pick up their trail all over again.

[A good reason for them to think about anything else that isn't what just happened.]

[waiting]

Yeah, well. At least they weren't waiting outside the closet. [ Instinctively, he's patting himself down absently as he walks along, even as his eyes search for the nearest exit. It doesn't take much time to find what he needs -- crushed and slightly bent, his cigarettes are still in their customary pocket, and he fishes one out and sticks it in his mouth.

After all that, he thinks he deserves it. Heedless of the fact that they're indoors, he lights up, taking a deep, long drag before exhaling the smoke out.

One of these days, he'll get around to quitting. ]

[deductives]

[Sherlock almost groans in frustration when Bradbury gets himself a cigarette, but he bites it back and purses his lips. It'd been many months now since his last, but now really is an opportune time. Instead, despite the fact that he'd just been glad to regain his space, Sherlock is curiously close to Bradbury after his first drag.

He takes a deep breath of the smoke before stepping away as if nothing had happened. It's enough for now. Two patches when he gets back to the flat, at least.]

[waiting]

[ Bradbury, naturally, doesn't miss it, and he's quick to back the hell up, blinking at Sherlock suspiciously, confused as to what exactly he's trying to accomplish until it clicks.

Reluctantly, he offers Sherlock the pack. ]

You want one?

[deductives]

[At first, Sherlock just shakes his head. Sometimes boredom led to cigarettes which could lead to something worse. However, he isn't bored right now; he's embarrassed and annoyed. His nerves were frayed, not curled like springs. So after about two seconds he snatches a bent cigarette from the pack anyway and quickly produces a lighter. The benefits of multiple pockets.]

I've been good for months.

[He says this as he touches the flame of the lighter to the tip, taking a deep breath inward. The lighter clicks shut as he breathes out what little smoke he's willing to part with.]

[waiting]

Then just call me a bad influence.

[ Everyone gets a cheat day, Bradbury figures. This can be Sherlock's. He steps over to the room's only window so he can at least make a pretense of caring about not getting the place all dirtied up, but he'd really like to burn that closet, at least, which he casts an apathetic eye at. What was even holding them in anyway? It doesn't look all that special. ]

You recognize where we are?

[deductives]

[Everything just starts to move more easily in Sherlock's brain once he holds onto the cigarette a little longer. Bradbury's question also helps him focus on other things that aren't the closet. He glances around with great lucidity in his eyes, absorbing everything around them before strolling over to the closest window.]

This is a small public library in Brooklyn. This neighborhood has a particular smell to it. We're about two blocks from the nearest Metro station.

[waiting]

[ He'll never get used to how Sherlock can say that kind of thing with such confidence, but then he supposes he doesn't have to. That's John's job, after all. ]

Then I guess we'd better go.

[ And never, it's implied, speak with anyone about this again. ]