ihadabadday | Myths and Facts - AU - Locked to seaweed

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Myths and Facts - AU - Locked to seaweed_writes

John Watson was a professor of Archaeology, with a focus in ancient Middle Eastern artifacts and history. He was mild mannered and ordinary. People assumed he was boring, university educated and went home to do whatever it is that ordinary people do when.

But John Watson had a secret. He often carried out interesting archaeological missions (for lack of better descriptors) for the British Government. Things that the government didn't want others to find, to keep secrets safe from the public. Not that the public didn't deserve to know. But there was much that John Watson found that would turn history in its head, which would cause chaos among the population.

But this day, he had finished his classes and was sitting in his office. He was researching something he had been working on his entire career.

The Hanging Gardens of Babylon and thus the other missing Ancient Wonders. The only one that had survived antiquity was the Great Pyramid of Giza. And John suspected that was for a reason. There had been reports of other pyramids being dismantled, of crumbling and collapsing. This pyramid was the height of the pyramid building craze that clutched ancient Egypt for so long.

But that wasn't his focus.

He didn't tell many he was researching the Gardens. Too many other archaeologists had been laughed out of a career for it. No. He wanted to find them, prove their existence before he published anything.

He closed his notebook and tucked it into his messenger bag. It was leather and worn, he had taken it on many of his adventures, and he always kept a gun tucked into it. John left the university ground and hailed a cab. He was off to the British Museum to see the Alexander the Great exhibit that was there. Maybe there was something in the collection that would lead to another clue or breakthrough.

At the museum he was stopped in front of a large stone tablet (a recent discovery) reading the text and translating. It wasn't too busy this day, as it was a Wednesday, but there were still people milling about, talking. And he suspected the Curator, one Sherlock Holmes, was watching or around. Bringing this particular exhibit to the museum had been a feat.

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"Are you wondering why I wanted you to be part of this?" He asked after he got his bags.

John was an efficient packer, but he wasn't sure how long that they would be here in the Middle East.

He glanced at Sherlock and then about the luggage area. He leaned back against the wall as he waited.

Why Sherlock indeed...

The man was smart, quick, he didn't beat around the bush... There was a whole host of reasons, but one up there was the fact that Sherlock was incredibly good looking.

Sherlock had quite a few ideas on why John wanted him on this trip, but he was not about about to tell him some of them, for several reasons.

"You admire my knowledge and you understand that I will have a lot of information to bring to this dig, even if I don't know ancient Assyrian, I do speak Parsi, which can also come in hand when it comes to speaking with the current residents of this area." He rattled off quickly, sure of his being right.

John smiled and nodded. "Correct. Your brother tried to convince me that there were others that would be better suited. But I expressed my concern that they might overlook something obvious. Where as you notice everything."

"I wanted someone I could work with that would compliment me." He said simply, "That and I backed your brother into a corner with the knowledge that I'm pretty much the only one who can do this with my knowledge."

Sherlock spotted his suitcase and grabbed it from the roundabout.

"A shame. I would have like seen you going toe to toe with my brother." He was quite impressed that John was actually able to not only handle his brother, but actually outdid him. How many people had actually bested his brother? It was a very small list.

He laughed and pushed away from the wall. "I guess it comes with being in a specialized field with even more specialized knowledge. That and I've had plenty of training to deal with men like your brother." John winked at Sherlock as he stepped out the doors to hail them a cab.

Once he had the cab, he bid hello to the driver before assisting in putting their bags in the boot. He kept his messenger bag and the case with him. It wasn't going to be leaving his sight.

Sherlock spoke to the cabbie in Parsi, telling him the name of the hotel that they were staying at, with a perfect accent, which did surprise the driver. He drove them off.

He turned back towards John. "We should grow beards. It will make us blend in more. And I will teach you a few basic words in Parsi, it will go far to at least try to speak to them in their own language. They will appreciate it." That, and he was pretty sure that John with a beard would look..

NO.. NO, he couldn't' think that way. John was his boss and nothing more than that. He was terribly, terribly straight.

"That and shaving in the desert will be a pain." He chuckled, "The lack of water. I know Kurdish and some Arabic."

John gave Sherlock the side eye, wondering how the man would look with a beard. He wondered how the man looked under all of that designer clothing. He turned to look out the window.

Either this was going to burn spectacularly, or be the greatest find.

"Mmm. True." he nodded, smiling slightly. "If you know Kurdish, it is the same type of speech patterns, you should be able to pick up Parsi fairly quickly." He wasn't going to brag to John about the fact that he knew Arabic and Kurdish as well, along with quite a few other languages. If it came up, he would.

Why was John taking these long looks at him? He noticed the side eye that John had given him before looking out the window. Sherlock sighed softly to himself and looked out the other window, watching the city go by.

Once at the hotel, John paid the cabbie and then slipped out of the car to go unload their bags. He kept a sharp eye on everyone around. He was always aware and on alert when in certain parts of the world. This was one of them. Luckily they weren't American, but they were still Westerners.

He shut the boot and waited for Sherlock.

Sherlock took his suitcase and shouldered his bag and walked inside, looking over his shoulder to make sure that John was behind him. He walked up to the front desk and talked to the man behind it in Parsi. He was calm at first, but then started to get more.. animated. Finally, he turned back to John.

"I'm sorry. The reservation was messed up. They have one king bed for us." He sighed. This was only their first stop, and only for a few days, before they went out into the desert, but still, it was going to be... awkward.

John just looked at him and then rolled his shoulders in a shrug. "We're adults, we can both handle it." he said, "Right?" He knew it was going to be just a little uncomfortable since he was attracted to the man. But no doubt he was way out of Sherlock's league, or the man was married. He'd never seen him wear a ring though...

He let out a breath and then headed for the elevator. "Might as well get used to it. We're going to be in close proximity for a while."

"Of course." He said, in a dismissive tone, though that was far from the way that he was actually feeling.

"True. Though the desert is a vast place, we will need to stay close, for safety's sake of course. We get lost out there, and no GPS will save our lives." God, that sounded like such a lame excuse coming from his lips, even if it was true.

He followed John up the rickety old elevator and into the room, which was small, even by hotel standards. There wasn't much more than a bed, a couple of dressers, and a tiny tv on a small desk.

"Well, we will be here a few days getting supplies, we might as well unpack a little."

The hotel was low key, it was local and if there was anyone after them this early in the game, they would probably (hopefully) not start here. John set his suitcase on the bed and opened it. He had packed with the efficiency of a former soldier, someone who was used to being on the go, not knowing what to expect around the next corner. There was a lot about John Watson that didn't seem to add up.

"I much prefer gathering my own supplies than letting someone else get them." He said as he removed the light coat he wore, along with the shirt. It left him shirtless, showing the countless scars along his torso to Sherlock.

Sherlock had started to open his suitcase, but the moment that John took off his shirt, he stopped. He knew he shouldn't stare, but he couldn't help but stare, taking in the planes of JOhn's back, the gnarly, gnarled scar on his shoulder, the cuts that healed in various states, the old scars from countless adventures.

He licked his lips without even thinking about it, finally blinking and looking away, hoping that John dind't notice because he was facing the other way.

"All these subtle glances will leave us with a bit of hand wringing and plenty of trips to the loo." John said as he turned to look at Sherlock. He was guessing here. But he knew what it felt like to have a gaze on him.

"I..." Sherlock started, then shut his mouth. What was it about this man that set him back on his heels, that literally made him speechless?

He could deny it, sure. But what good would that do? He had taken every opportunity he could in the museum to study everything about John- his look, his sound, his smell, how he reacted to certain stimuli. In some ways he could read John like a book, but when it came down to brass tacks, he knew nothing about the man.

John set his case on the floor and crossed around the bed to stand in front of Sherlock. He looked up at the man, watching him. He reached up and touched his cheek, stroking a hand over the slightly stubble skin. He let out a breath and leaned up to kiss him.

He had been attracted to Sherlock since they first encountered one another.

For a moment, Sherlock stiffened. He didn't pull away, but neither did he rush up to meet John.

The first touch of those lips on his were electric. He could feel the goosebumps rising on his skin. It took a couple of moments for his brain to come back online and actually try to kiss John back, tentative at first, but slowly, slowly relaxing.

John was about to pull away when Sherlock started kissing him in return. He made a noise into the kiss and pulled Sherlock closer by his shirt. He wanted to touch and feel. He wanted to get lost in this gorgeous man.

Of course Sherlock would never admit it, but his career had always come first. He had had.... dalliances before, always with men, but nothing ever serious. John, though.. this wasn't some dalliance.. Sherlock could tell that.. But was he ready for something... anything? He hadn't intended for this to be anything more than just a job, and this was setting him back on his heels in a way that made him awkward and uncomfortable.

Not the kissing, it was warm and wet and wonderful, but he still wasn't sure what he wanted.. not yet.

Sherlock broke away after a moment, panting ever so softly. "John.. " His voice was a whisper on the breeze.

"Not good?" John asked a little breathlessly. Had he misread Sherlock and made a mistake that could cost him a friend and the partner on this job?

He stepped back and went to grab a clean shirt. He bit his kiss swollen lip as he yanked the t-shirt on. He wasn't sure what to feel. Embarrassment for sure, shame? He wasn't positive.

Sherlock sighed as he watched John retreat back, and for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to speak.

Finally he was able to form words.

"No.. It... was.. good." He said, stumbling over his words like some weird sex starved teenager. "I.. just wasn't expecting it, that was all."

John looked up and smiled shyly at Sherlock. "You are a good kisser." He said softly before sitting on the bed. He watched Sherlock. He knew he could separate work from want or play.

The tiniest hint of a blush colored Sherlock's face, but he shook those thoughts out of his head rather quickly.

Sherlock didn't move any closer to the bed, he stood his ground, his eyes not leaving John's. What could he say to that, "Thank you?" "You're a good kisser too"? Either of those would just sound silly and trite, even if they were true. John was a good kisser.

He rubbed at the back of his head. Damnit, he could reduce people to tears by deducing them. But when it came to having even a regular conversation with John, he was a blubbering mess.

"John.." he said quietly, finally having to look away from John at the floor in front of the bed.

John wasn't sure what to say when they both fell silent. Sherlock's gaze held him and it felt like he was being analyzed. His heart-rate increased and he could feel a flush rising to his cheeks. Well damn.

He jerked his gaze away when Sherlock did, trying to get his raging hormones and lust under control.

"Yes?"

Myths and Facts - AU - Locked to seaweed_writes

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