[The sound of John's laughter makes his own a little more audible. He ducks his head, closer to John... but it's a coin toss as to whether he realises that.]
Not my fault.
[But it's said lightly, and he flashes a smile at his friend.
The fact that John's hand is on the doorknob but not turning speaks volumes, as does the name of the "game" John mentioned earlier.
Seven minutes.
With another chuckle-- unable to help it at the absurdity of the idea of this "game," "playing" it, and being trapped with John-- he leans in further. Sherlock does what he did a moment ago: a kiss to the cheek.
This time, there might really be some affection to it, and one of his hands sets lightly, easily on John's upper arm. A friendly touch, like the hand on his shoulder.]
no subject
Not my fault.
[But it's said lightly, and he flashes a smile at his friend.
The fact that John's hand is on the doorknob but not turning speaks volumes, as does the name of the "game" John mentioned earlier.
Seven minutes.
With another chuckle-- unable to help it at the absurdity of the idea of this "game," "playing" it, and being trapped with John-- he leans in further. Sherlock does what he did a moment ago: a kiss to the cheek.
This time, there might really be some affection to it, and one of his hands sets lightly, easily on John's upper arm. A friendly touch, like the hand on his shoulder.]