Work Text:
John loved it when he had a chance to spend some quiet time with Sherlock away from the hustle and bustle of London. A case had taken them to the country. A missed train and a bit of pleading on John’s part had led to a mini holiday.
“Even with lots of sex, two days is all I will be able to stand before I die of boredom.” Sherlock had declared with a put upon sigh.
John had just smiled and hurried back to the inn to make arrangements before he changed his mind.
The next morning John picked up the picnic hamper he had requested from the innkeeper, grabbed a sulky detective by the hand, and headed out for a ramble. Sherlock grumbled until they reached a small wooded area, then he perked up; collecting bits of flora and fauna for examination and experimentation when they returned to Baker Street. John happily walked along the path, listening to the birds and watching the man he loved fill his pockets with all kinds of flotsam and jetsam. John’s stomach was starting to rumble when the wandering path led though a break in the trees to a sun drenched meadow filled with wildflowers.
“Looks like a perfect place for our picnic.” John declared as he set the hamper down in the shade of giant old oak tree.
He opened the hamper, shook out the rug packed inside it, spread it on the ground, sat down and began laying out their lunch. Sherlock shed his coat and stretched out on the rug with his head in John’s lap. He nipped playfully at John’s fingers as he fed him bits of sandwich then smiled when John bent over to kiss the end of his nose.
After lunch, Sherlock fell into a doze as John ran his fingers through his hair. John loved playing with Sherlock’s hair. He loved the silky feel of it as it slid between his fingers, the way the curls would spring back when he stretched them out, and the way it changed colors when he held sections of it up to the light; from inky black to indigo to deepest purple. He picked as many wildflowers as he could reach without disturbing Sherlock and wove them into a crown. When he was finished, he placed it on Sherlock’s head and bent over to softly kiss him.
“Mmmm.” Sherlock mumbled as he opened his eyes and looked up at John.
“And he woke sleeping beauty with a kiss.” John said with a smile.
Sherlock reached up to touch the flowers in his hair then John’s cheek.
“This is nice.” He said.
“What is?” John asked.
“You and I like this,” He replied. “being quiet, doing nothing. It is nice.”
John tucked a curl behind Sherlock’s ear.
“Could you see us being like this all the time?” he asked.
Sherlock was quiet long enough that John figured he wasn’t going to answer when he did.
“Someday.” He said as he took John’s hand. “When we are old and grey. I can see us somewhere like this, in a cottage, with a dog, and bees.”
“As long as the bees stay outside.” John told him.
“Where else would they be?” Sherlock asked.
“One never knows with you, you madman.” John told him fondly.
“But I’m your madman.” Sherlock said with a smile as he sat up.
“Yes you are.” John agreed as he leaned in to kiss him.