Sherlock December Ficlets: Peppermint
John gazed at Sherlock across the restaurant table, glad to see him wolfing down forkfuls of pasta. It was rare that he ate so heartily, but they had just spent the day running around the city for a case.
As Sherlock paid the bill, John grabbed two peppermint candies from a bowl placed near the door. John handed one to Sherlock and they unwrapped the cellophane, popping the red and white mints into their mouths.
They stepped outside into the brisk evening, the street bustling with shoppers, trees wrapped in sparkling lights, and store windows filled with colorful holiday displays.
John sucked on the candy, idly noticing how cool his breath felt when he inhaled. He tried it again, breathing in deeper, the sudden peppery burn tickling his nose, almost making him sneeze.
Sherlock noticed, sliding his eyes over to John. “That would be the 2-isopropyl-5-methylcyclohexanol.”
John dabbed at his nose, confused. “What?”
“The proper name for menthol, a compound found in peppermint oil.”
“What about it?”
“Fascinating chemical.” Sherlock strolled with his hands in his pockets, rolling the round candy in his mouth.
John resigned himself to a lecture.
“In very simple terms, there are sensory receptors in our mouths that respond to menthol – but interestingly, these same receptors also respond to low temperatures,” Sherlock explained. “The receptors can’t distinguish between true cold and menthol; they simply signal ‘cold,’ thus making mint feel cold.”
“Hmm,” John pondered this fact as they turned onto a less populated street.
“In fact,” Sherlock continued, warming to his subject, “the receptor of interest, a protein called TRPM8 – which stands for transient receptor potential cation channel, subfamily M, member 8 – is an ion channel which, when open, allows sodium ions and calcium ions to enter –”
“Sherlock–” John interrupted, “come here.”
John wanted Sherlock to stop talking, and he also wanted to kiss him, finding his scientific enthusiasm endearing. He pulled Sherlock into a darkened doorway, the kind of alcove perfect for dashing out of the rain, having a quick smoke, or conducting experimental kisses to determine exactly how menthol affects the quality of semi-public snogging.
He grasped the lapels of Sherlock’s coat, pushing him up against the wall, capturing his mouth. Sugar, mint, sweet lips, cool breath, warm skin, tingly tongues.
“Mmm, quite nice,” John determined, finally easing back. “What sensory receptors are activated now?”
Sherlock smiled, cupping John’s face and gently biting his lower lip. “Primal ones.”
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