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“Finally, you did it, John!”
“Yes, I did it,” John replied and grinned broadly at Sherlock.
Sherlock and John were standing in front of a medium-sized, dark grey city car with tinted windows, and John proudly held his new driver's licence in his hands.
“What do we do now?” John asked.
"Guess what? Drive! Now that you're the one of us who has a driver's licence and Mycroft lent you one of his cars, we should take the opportunity to pick up the Chinese food for dinner by car instead of on foot,” Sherlock replied with a sly grin.
"The Chinese restaurant is right around the corner, Sherlock, I'm not going to drive a few meters just to pick up the foo… WAIT WHAT?! You don't have a driver's licence?” John's expression changed from amused to shocked in a second and his mouth hung unfavourably open as he stared at Sherlock. “You drove in Dartmoor back then! Don't tell me you drove without a licence?!” With an audible click, he closed his mouth and took a deep breath to calm himself.
"Just because you don't have a driver's licence doesn't mean you don't know how to operate a car, John. Simple." Sherlock sniffed, an incipient pout on his lower lip.
“What the fuck, Sherlock, you can't just drive a car if you don't have a driver's licence! There are rules that - "John gestured daringly in the direction of the street. “Boring,” Sherlock interrupted John's flow of speech, which otherwise would most likely have expanded into an instruction riddled with swear words and curses about the do's and don'ts in social society and the observance of the respective rules, “Besides, it wasn't me who drove, it was Mycroft. His ID is not only useful for getting into secret government laboratories.”
“That’s… you… never mind,” frustrated, John screwed up his eyes, put his thumb and forefinger on the bridge of his nose and snorted, “and what are we doing now?”
"Food, John. We want to get some food from the Chinese restaurant, do keep up. You’re driving, of course.” Sherlock looked at John with wide innocent eyes and waited patiently for John to calm down. He had mentally counted to 8 when John replied, "Okay, but I'm not going to drive to the Chinese restaurant, that just doesn't make sense. So far we've always walked a few steps and I don't plan to do everything by car from now on just because I CAN.” John emphasised the last word in his direction, but it had little intensity so Sherlock knew John had forgiven him. "Then we'll just choose another restaurant to go to," Sherlock said mischievously. "Come on, John, I'm your navigator!" With that, Sherlock swung himself into the passenger seat and made himself comfortable. After a moment's hesitation, John followed Sherlock into the car and got behind the wheel. "And you are sure you know where to go?" he asked with a sceptical sidelong glance. "Of course, John, I know every street in London and I know exactly where to go."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One hour later.
“Sherlock, where are we?”
“Um…”
"Sherlock," warned John and gripped the steering wheel tighter than he already was. "You said you knew where to go and now we've been driving around for hours and we still haven't arrived."
“Don’t be overdramatic, John, it's only been an hour since we left,” Sherlock sniffed, sticking his lower lip out to pout.
“Oh for fuck sake, Sherlock, don’t pout, better tell me what to do now!”
"You are the driver, you could... Tadaa!" Just as Sherlock was about to complain, John drove around the next corner and in front of them was a restaurant with a large parking lot and drive through. Sherlock smiled triumphantly and gestured towards the restaurant.
"Don't pretend you wanted to go here all the time," John gritted between clenched teeth but couldn't help but smile. Despite everything, he loved Sherlock with all his heart, and after all, they had been through together, a trip through London, even though they didn’t know the exact way back yet, was nothing to be upset about.
“What now?” he asked after he had steered the car into a parking space and switched off the engine with relief. Sherlock was already busy looking for something on his phone and only answered with a vague "Hmph."
After another moment in which his fingers flew furiously over the digital keyboard, he held his phone up to John's nose with a triumphant "Ha! That's it, we're at Geronimo’s and can order our food here. We -”
''Yes, Sherlock, I can see that too, the name is big enough above the entrance," John interrupted with a wry smile. "I'm not as unobservant as you usually assume."
“Haha, very funny, John. I was referring to this being an Italian restaurant that also has takeaway options and I just checked the menu and found a dish you like.”
“Okay… if you think so. Then let me go in and order. What would you like to eat?”
“No, we have to stay in the car, John." Sherlock interrupted quickly before John could get out of the car. "Where else is the fun? We have driven so long to find the right restaurant, we have to take advantage of what is probably the unique offer and use the drive-through."
Once more this evening, Sherlock looked at John expectantly and knew John couldn't resist him. John let the air out in his lungs in a sudden sigh and his shoulders slump forward a little. "All right then, we're going through the drive-through. You're sure you know what you want to eat? Now that we've finally found a restaurant, the food should be ready quickly, I'm hungry."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Another 20 minutes later.
“Jooooohn, I’m bored. How long do we have to wait?”
"I don't know, Sherlock, but there is only one car left in front of us, so it can't be too long,” John grumbled as he dropped his head against the headrest from the seat, his eyes closed.
“But John, I’m booooored!” Sherlock repeated, dragging the words a little longer. It reminded John a lot of a trip home from the clinic when a mother had sat next to him on the train with her child and the child had started to whine as soon as the train left. "When are we there? How much longer? Mom, I'm bored." John was glad that Sherlock didn't say - like the child back then - "I have to pee!".
"Sherlock, I can't help it, we're stuck in the queue, but it can't be long, be patient."
Sherlock fell back into his seat with full force and sighed in frustration. Before Sherlock could complain again, John got ahead of him: "I spy with my little eye, something beginning with M."
"What?" Sherlock stopped and looked at John in amazement.
“Something with M, Sherlock, you know, the child's game. You --”
“Oh!” Sherlock's mouth formed a perfect O and his eyes lit up. "John, don't say anything more, I know it!"
“You know it? Oh, what do I ask anyway,” John sighed “What did I choose with M?”
"I have no idea what you're talking about, John, but I know what I'm going to do now." and with that, Sherlock turned to John with one smooth movement, leaned over and began to open John's trousers with a sly grin on his face.
“Sherlock, stop, you can't do this here!” John squealed, a bit startled “We're in public and we're also about to order!”
"John, don't be stupid, nobody can see through the tinted windows, and the order will probably be placed over an intercom."
"Sherlock, I have to open the window to order and ... Ooooh!"
During the short conversation, Sherlock had skilfully freed John's cock from its fabric jail and without much fussing, he started with kisses and little licks over the shaft. Sherlock knew from experience that the combination of tenderness and thrill was just the right thing to convince John of his approach. John's enthusiasm was immediately noticeable when his cock swelled rapidly and began to press against Sherlock's lips and one of John's hands found its way into Sherlock's locks of its own accord and his blunt fingernails carefully scratched the scalp while he clung to the steering wheel with the other hand.
“Oh… we… ugh…” John tried to speak but failed while his head slumped back against the seat.
For a second, Sherlock just stopped to breathe in John’s scent, his nose nuzzling John’s balls. Slowly he moved up until he reached John’s cock. It was already full and heavy, glistening with a drop of pre-come, and Sherlock felt his mouth fill with saliva at this sight.
“Sherlock we can’t... Oh, God!”
Sherlock licked up the underside, closing his lips over the tip and sucking lightly. A grunt from above told him that John was desperately trying not to lose control and his fingers continued to dig into Sherlock's curls, holding on as if his life depended on it.
Sherlock sank down, hollowing his cheeks and sucking hungrily, taking him in until he hit the back of his throat.
“Shrrrlock.” John slurred and eagerly bucked up into Sherlock’s mouth as far as this was possible with the seat belt buckled. An encouraging hum around John's cock made clear that Sherlock wasn’t bothered in the slightest.
“Fuck! Oh my God,” John moaned, his face flushed.
A long, angry honk behind them abruptly brought both of them back to reality. Sherlock lifted his head just enough for John to quickly shift into gear and roll the short distance to the order counter, but kept the tip of John's cock in his mouth and immediately sank back down again when John took his feet off the pedals.
"Welcome to Geronimo, how is your order please?" asked an inconspicuous-looking man in waiter's clothes behind the first counter, after John opened the window just wide enough to peer outside. So much for order through an intercom , John thought.
“Um - “ John stared at the man through the partially open window and suddenly realized that Sherlock hadn't told him what to order. Sherlock pulled up with a slurping sound and a wet plop but didn't straighten up enough to be seen through the window.
“Orrechiette Broccoli, Gnocchi Bufalina and Tiramisu for two,” he said a bit hoarse and diligently got back to work .
“Pfffffft-gnng.” John was just barely able to prevent cursing loudly but had to take a deep breath.
“Are you okay, sir?” the waiter asked and looked a bit worried.
"Everything's fine," John squeezed out between clenched teeth, trying to look as normal as possible.
"As you say, sir. Would you like something else?" replied the waiter and put on a neutral expression.
“No, thank you-uuu.”
"That makes £33.50. Do you pay cash or credit card?"
A nudge on his hand made John look back inside and noticed the credit card Sherlock held out to him. Distracted by his conversation, John had not noticed how Sherlock - despite his steady rhythm, which was slowly but surely bringing John to the climax - had pulled out his credit card, which luckily saved him from further embarrassment. John silently passed the card over the edge of the window.
“Thank you, sir. Do you need the receipt?”
“No! I don’t need your fucking receipt, just get on with the fo-ood,” John tried to answer when a particularly deliberate swirl of Sherlock's tongue puzzled him again.
“Very well, sir.” replied the waiter with a frown, but otherwise didn’t allow himself to be further alarmed, "Please continue to the next parking spot, there you will receive your food shortly.”
John just managed to follow this instruction before the next wave of hot lust rolled over him and the trembling in his body got stronger. He just managed to turn the engine off, grabbed Sherlock's head with both hands, tangled his fingers through the hair and pushed his head down to set a pace.
“ I‘m so close, so close… fuck! Fuck, Sherlock!” slurred John and came moaning down Sherlock's throat.
Sherlock moaned, swallowed John’s release, his tongue swirled to catch every drop. Slowly he licked John clean until a slight tug on his hair told him that John was becoming oversensitive, pulled off, and briefly rested his head on John's thigh to catch his breath. John stroked his dark curls lovingly and lifted his head with the help of two fingertips under his chin. "Come here." John kissed Sherlock slowly and tenderly, still caught in the bliss of the aftershocks.
A metallic click and the sound of a zipper being pulled down tore John from his relaxation, and Sherlock guided the hand John still had under his chin and placed it on top of his swollen prick.
“Please, John,” Sherlock rumbled.
John didn't have to be told twice and started to stroke, adding a twist at the tip. “Harder, John,” Sherlock moaned, threw his head back and started fucking into John's fist. John tightened his grip and stroked faster. “Hggnn,” Sherlock panted, “So close.”
“Come for me, Sherlock,” John said in a filthy voice and that was it, Sherlock toppled over the climax and came all over the fittings and the handbrake, a few drops also landed on his clothes. Panting, he leaned back in his seat, eyes closed and a small smile on his face.
*knock knock* a knock on the window interrupted John as he carefully pushed a stray lock back behind Sherlock's ear. Slowly he lowered the window and looked out into the parking lot.
“Your food, sir.”
“Oh… um… yeah, thank you.” John replied and quickly grabbed the bag the waiter was holding out to him, while Sherlock asked almost at the same time "You don't happen to have a few napkins with you, do you?" and, with questioningly raised eyebrows, innocently blinked from the passenger seat towards the waiter.
He blinked a little confused from one to the other, saw the deranged condition both car occupants were in, Sherlock's face still flushed and his hair a wild mop and John with a very satisfied grin on his face, opened his mouth to say something, decided against it, closed his mouth with an audible click and turned on his heel and marched back towards the restaurant without looking back again.
John and Sherlock looked at each other and burst out laughing at the same time. John wiped a furtive tear of laughter from the corner of his eye and said, still giggling, "That was the stupidest idea you ever had, Sherlock. Let's go home and enjoy our meal."
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Two weeks later:
"Sherlock, how about we borrow another car from Mycroft and pick up some food at the Geronimo?" John asked with a sly smile.
Sherlock was upside down on the sofa, feet on the back, and hands folded under his chin. At John's words, he perked up and raised his head. "As much as I would like to do that - and especially to see Mycroft's sour expression again when we return the car - I’m sorry to inform you that the Geronimo had to close. Some guests complained that waiting times in the drive-through were too long.”
“Oh, what a shame.” John laughed.
“Buuuut, with these words Sherlock swung around and sat upright, "We could go looking for a new restaurant. You drive, I’m your navigator!" Sherlock jumped up and made his way to the door, pulling John's wrist with him.
“Sherlooooock!”
~ Fin ~