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Moriarty the Patriot: Floor Dweller
Yaaay! Lee!Sherlock is here 🥰 I struggled with finding how to write this for so long;-; But here it is at last! I also want to point out that it is indeed CANON that Sherlock chooses to nap on the floor at times XD
Summary: Sherlock is testing out a little substance that leaves him feeling comfy on the floor, being a trip hazard. John has to find a way to get him up.
Lee!Sherlock, Ler!John
Tw: Mild drug use.
24/02/23
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John was sitting in his room one warm afternoon, writing up the most recent job that he and Sherlock had finalized when he smelt something strange wafting up from their shared lounge and office area. It was a woody, herbal scent that filled the room. Probably Sherlock experimenting again, but he thought it best to just make sure everything was well. He sighed, setting down his pen before heading downstairs.
The scent grew stronger as John peered into the living room. "Sherlock?" He called the man in question who was nowhere to be seen. He waved a hand over his face, trying to dispel the thin curtain of smoke that filled the room. "What on earth is that smell?" Thinking out loud, he stepped further in, his eyes finding his tall friend.
"Um... Sherlock? What are you doing on the floor?" He asked, standing by the dark-haired man's head, smiling down at him. He was sprawled on his back by the sofa, staring up at the ceiling with a diminished fag butt held in his lips, only wearing his shirt and trousers. His dark hair was free from it's ponytail, wildly resting on the carpet, hanging in ruffled locks.
"Trying something new." He muttered, blinking a few times. His eyes were slightly red and his cheeks flushed pink. He looked fairly vacant to be honest.
"Aaaand what would that be?" Watson pried, raising a brow as he looked at Sherlock's science set-up. It looked unused. Meaning this experiment was just Sherlock testing something on himself.
"Marijuana. A friend of mine got a shipment in from India and I thought I'd give it a try. The high is... Different from what I'm used to."
John stepped over the man, looking at the small jar of green herbs on the table. "I see. Well, can you at least get off the floor? You are very much a trip hazard down there." He chuckled, stepping back over the lanky man to open the window and allow the smokey substance outside.
"Can't." Sherlock deadpanned, spitting the remaining fag butt from his lips with a puff of air before it could burn him.
Watson's shoulders slumped as he sighed. "Why can't you?" He asked in a tired tone. Living with Sherlock was entertaining sure, but also mentally exhausting at times.
"I'm comfy."
"On the floor?"
"Yep." He smiled, popping the P as he spoke. "Come join me." Sherlock waved a limp wristed hand, beckoning his friend over.
"I'm not laying on the floor with you, Sherlock."
"Come oooon. You'll love it... The ceiling is miles away." Sherlock giggled, raising a hand to point lazily at the ceiling. John looked up as he pointed, immediately feeling stupid for doing so. Of course the bleddy ceiling wasn't further away.
"Come now, Sherlock, this is silly. At least get on the sofa instead in case you fall asleep." He scolded, taking the man's hand and attempting to pull him up. In protest, Sherlock went ragdoll, grinning childishly as he pretend to be asleep.
"Can't I'm already asleep... Zzz..." He sniggered, fake snoring as he listened to John's voice, growing more agitated. Sort of. He was only annoyed because he cared.
The blonde sighed, unable to lift the larger male, instead letting him flop back onto the carpet with a huff. "Sherlock, I swear you are the most insufferable blunderbuss I've ever-" He was cut off by another loud fake snore, seething with playful anger as he looked at Sherlock's smirking face.
"Alright. That does it, Sherlock. You've left me no choice." He rolled his sleeves up as though he were going to thump him in the face.
Sherlock giggled, wandering what his friend had in mind to teach him a lesson. What he wasn't expecting was a sudden weight on his stomach, followed by fingers scribbling into his unprotected sides.
"GAH! W-Waihit!" He immediately grabbed a hold of John's wrists, laughter spilling forth as he wriggled.
"Johohon! S-Stahap! You- Gyahahaha!" His legs flailed as John's hands crept up to Sherlock's ribs, locking onto his muscular frame and digging in.
"Hush now, I'm trying to help with your studies. We simply must deduce whether or not this Marijuana substance has made you more or less sensitive to tickling!" He teased, massaging his thumbs into Sherlocks lowest ribs, making him arch his back helplessly.
"Now, does this tickle more than usual?"
"I-I don't knohohow! Plehease!"
"Nope, this won't do. I need an answer or this test is all for nought."
"I-It does! It's wohorse! It's soho much wohohorse! Ahahaha!" Sherlock twisted his torso, trying to roll on his back, but the high and John's weight kept him locked in place.
"And, how is it worse?" The evil fingers travelled further up, fingertips pressing into the highest ribs now. Sherlock snorted, throwing his arms over his face in embarrassment as he gave up trying to stop the attack. The high made his limbs even more uncoordinated than usual when he was tickled.
"I cahan't stohohop you! My bohody- Hahaha! I-It's numb!"
"A numbness you say? And yet you are still ticklish as ever. How peculiar." John mused, laughing with his friend. He did enjoy these bonding moments the two shared. They were also a great way for John to make Sherlock pay for being a nuisance without hurting him. He spidered his fingers up yet again, immediately becoming ensnared by Sherlock's arms as he wriggled his fingers into his armpits, his laughter shooting up in volume.
"NOHOHO! John! No! Plehehease! Ahahaha!" Sherlock shook his head as he cackled, his hair becoming tangled as it flopped over his face. His pretty laughter flowed out the open window, bringing smiles to those who were passing by.
"Johon! Plehehase! Nahaha!"
"I thought you said you were numb? Do make up your mind, won't you?" His friend teased, pinning one of Sherlock's arms over his head, clawing mercilessly at the vulnerable weak point as he grinned.
"AHAHAHA! Stahahahap!" He limply swapped at the tickling fingers, too giddy by now to do anything but kick his legs. "Oho gohohod! Mercy! Johohn! Mehercehehey!" The tears that had grouped in his eyes finally slipped down his cheeks as he squeezed his eyes shut, snorting again whilst his laughter fell quiet.
"Are you going to get your backside off the floor?" The blonde replied, still tickling, just to get his point across.
"YEHES! Yes, yes I wihill! Plehehease!"
"Very well." John smiled, ceasing his attack and climbing off of Sherlock's tattered frame. He lay on the floor with his eyes closed, chest heaving as he gulped in air. He hugged himself, giggling as the ghost tickles finished their job. The high he was experiencing seemed more potent now that he was tired too, he felt warm, cosy, even without any blankets or pillows.
"Come on then, silly, great, Duke of limbs." John chuckled, hooking his arms under Sherlock's, hauling the hefty man to his feet and plopping him onto the sofa. "There, see? Much better than the floor." He smiled, gently wiping a mirth tear from his friend's cheek.
"Mhm..." He trailed off, asleep in seconds. His messed hair framing his face like a mane, lips parted as he snored for real this time.
All in all, a successful test.
