[There's a whisper of a breath from Sherlock just before the second kiss. It might have just been the half-sigh or it might have been John's name. Hard to say.
But he doesn't pull away. Instead, he tilts his head a little more and lets the grip on John's arm loosen. His hand never lets go, but it is not holding on quite so desperately now. An inch back for a breath and to stare at his friend for a moment and to wet his lips. An uncertain act, feeling their dryness and aware of the lingering sensation and taste the kiss has left on them.
He doesn't do it easily or smoothly, but this time... it is Sherlock who closes the small distance to kiss him again. His mobile is forgotten, and his hand reaches out, touching but not not grasping the fabric over John's side.]
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But he doesn't pull away. Instead, he tilts his head a little more and lets the grip on John's arm loosen. His hand never lets go, but it is not holding on quite so desperately now. An inch back for a breath and to stare at his friend for a moment and to wet his lips. An uncertain act, feeling their dryness and aware of the lingering sensation and taste the kiss has left on them.
He doesn't do it easily or smoothly, but this time... it is Sherlock who closes the small distance to kiss him again. His mobile is forgotten, and his hand reaches out, touching but not not grasping the fabric over John's side.]