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The shop was quiet. It was that mid-afternoon lull that let everyone working there get a breather and clean up from the brunch and lunch rush shoppers. Mary and Molly were off cleaning up the mess left behind in the fitting rooms and refolding the clothes on the tables. John was supposed to be tending the register, but without any customers he had settled for cleaning up his own area instead.
At that moment, Sherlock came out from the back with a small dolly and some boxes filled with shirts and shorts and whatever else went on the promo tables that had been completely wiped out from their early sales. John watched him for a moment or two as he repetitively opened each box, pulled out its perfect factory-folded contents and set it on the table. When he was done he glanced up at John, smiled, grabbed his dolly and went back to the stockroom.
John checked his watch. They probably had enough time….
He walked around and found Mary surrounded by a pile of jeans on the floor, half in disarray and half folded. “I’m going to take my break, would you mind jumping on if someone comes in?”
Mary grinned, looked up from a pair she was struggling to get folded correctly so the stickers would show when placed back in their cubby. “Sure, have a good one, and don’t get caught! You know what happened to Irene and Janine.” She winked and went back to the jeans. John felt his cheeks turn pink. They weren’t that obvious, were they??
“Thanks,” he practically stuttered. He made his way to the back where Sherlock would be putting together the next things that desperately needed filling out in the shop. He pushed open the heavy door and walked into the long corridor. “Sherlock?” The door behind him shut loudly and he heard a beep down near the end. John made his way towards the noise and found him standing on the top rung of the ladder, a box in his hand.
“Watch out,” Sherlock warned. John took a step back and Sherlock dropped the box which landed with a thud. He climbed down the ladder and looked down the corridor. “Anyone know you’re back here?”
“Just Mary, she’s covering for me. She won’t say anything.”
“Perfect.” Sherlock swooped in and kissed John firmly before pulling him back between two floor-to-ceiling shelves stuffed with merchandise. John pushed him against the wall finally kissing back, chastely at first until his tongue prodded at the space between Sherlock’s lips. Sherlock obliged and their tongues exchanged occupiable space, tastes of tea and coffee and mint mingled between them.
John was the first to break the kiss and laid a trail along Sherlock’s jaw line, unbuttoning a few of the top buttons, then continued down his neck to the base, his hand resting on Sherlock’s hips. Sherlock ran his hands up John’s new, he noted, rugby-style jumper and across his chest. John shivered and groaned a little as he started kneading a space with his teeth and lips and tongue there at Sherlock’s collarbone. Sherlock moved his hands around to John’s back and pulled him closer, forcing one of John’s legs between his own. They were both aroused at this point but that would be going too far, it would be too dangerous.
Sherlock threw his head back with a stifled moan and it hit the wall. John pulled away quickly. “You okay?” He brought a hand up to Sherlock’s head threading his fingers through Sherlock’s soft curls.
“Yeah, fine, keep going,” John’s lips returned to the spot he was massaging. “I want everyone to know I’m yours, John."
John giggled around the newly reddened, teased area. “Then it’s done.” He admired his handiwork, kissed it once before he looked up at Sherlock, and kissed him a few more times before he backed away. “I wish I could do something about that,” John looked at the slight bulge in Sherlock’s trousers.
Sherlock smirked and replied, “Feeling’s mutual,” as he glanced down at John’s, who blushed at the comment.
“Someday we’ll be brave enough to do it public. Today is not that day.”
It was quiet for a bit between them, both of them waiting for it to be safe to move, or in John’s case, to go back onto the shop floor. They spent it with their foreheads pressed together, breathing each other’s air, arms draped across each other's shoulders.
“How about tonight?” Sherlock broke the silence and looked up.
“Tonight?” John blinked a few times as he met Sherlock's gaze. “Yeah, okay. Tonight sounds great.” He smiled at Sherlock, leaned to kiss him one last time and left the stockroom, ready to finish his shift with renewed energy.