It's here! My coup de grâce for the Crack Fic challenge! 🎨 🖌
The Picture of Baker Street Gay
by helloliriels (a tribute to Oscar Wilde)
“Stand still! Why-? Haha … Why are you fidgeting?” John couldn’t help laughing, as Sherlock looked almost physically pained to be holding still …
“How much longer?” he asked with a small whine to his voice.
.
John shared a lingering glance with him. Begging him once more to do this … and lightly tugged on his shirt sleeve … and Sherlock complied. Lifting his chin again to look haughtily at the painter.
“An hour more,” the artist continued his work, intensely focused, “all I should need.”
Sherlock groaned and looked back to John for pity …
“What do you think?”
The painter stepped back and invited John and Sherlock to come and inspect his handiwork, at long last.
Sherlock jumped at the start like a greyhound. Reaching the painting before John could. John tried to gauge the painting’s quality by Sherlock’s response. But Sherlock was … just staring … agape.
“Like it?” John asked, laughing as he danced around Sherlock’s statuesque form to peer at the likeness.
Then he too, froze. Staring.
. It was …
. It was perfect.
.
They looked happy. Contented.
Like they would be there forever … side-by-side … at Baker Street.
It scratched an itch John didn’t even know he had …
.
Both boys sighed, audibly.
.
“You make a fine pair,” the artist’s eyes were knowing. Enjoying the stunned silence of his patrons, “I wish you both very happy. When is the wedding?”
His words took a moment to register.
“We’re not-” John choked on the words -
. “-a couple,” Sherlock finished for him.
Neither could tear their eyes from the image.
.
“Oh? I assumed this was for an engagement?” the artist asked casually, raising an eyebrow … but kept the rest of his thoughts to himself. He gave them a moment before interrupting the electric silence … Accepting a hastily written and excessively generous check from Sherlock; and a hearty handshake and slap on the back from John; before heading on his way.
Both men stood staring at the painting ... long after the sun faded below the horizon.
(Continued on Ao3 …)
