sortinghat_logs | When eggs leave emotions scrambled...

[Sherlock had been keeping his journal open beside him for the better part of the past couple days. It was going to be soon. He knew it was going to be soon.

And so, when the lettering appeared, Sherlock was already ready. He grabbed his bag of scales, measuring tape, and various medical and scientific odds and ends and bolted out of his dorm, taking the stairs three at a time before skidding down the halls towards the Great Hall.

Finding John therein was not difficult. He rushed over and plopped himself down near the egg, bag placed heavy on the table.]

How long has it been in this state?

[John made space for the egg as Sherlock rushed to join him.]

Dunno. I've been here maybe... 45 minutes? It wasn't doing this when I came here, but I only noticed it a few seconds before I sent you the message. Do you think it'll take long?

Might do but I imagine the stress would be bad for it if prolonged. Didn't you read up on snake hatching? I would have thought you'd have the volume next to you for just such an occasion. I'm disappointed in your lack of preparation, John.

[Sherlock began unpacking his bag, laying all of his tools out for use.]

I did some reading, and I did see that, yeah. Sorry I'm not as thorough as you, but some of us happen to care about getting assignments done on time. We can't all devote every cell of our being into becoming flawless snake midwives.

Noted; Your concern for animals extends mostly to keeping me from being their butcher.

[He gets in close to the egg, his safety goggles on as he pokes at it with a blunt instrument. The snake egg has an interesting aroma he hadn't noticed before the cracks had formed.]

Should be able to break through soon, I imagine.

[John rolls his eyes and crosses his arms at Sherlock's snark. A part of him wishes he could say he was expecting Sherlock to be less of a prat during this auspicious moment, but then he'd be a dirty, filthy liar.]

Yeah, the cracks are getting bigger. Uh... none of the stuff I read mentioned the smell, though. Did you see anything about it?

No, nothing.

[Sherlock looked up at John, suddenly finding his mouth a bit dry and his stomach tight. Odd.]

It's not altogether an unpleasant smell, though. Not that I like it, of course. It's just not what I'd expect from the inside of a reptile egg. Not that I was thinking about what sort of odors it would release. I mean, I have visited a zoo before and their snake enclosures. The smell is certainly memorable but not really any worse than anything boys in the dorm can produce. That isn't to say Tony and the others are mass producers of methane but...

[He just stops talking. It's better that way. Good lord, when did he become this awkward! It's just John! Just... wonderful John...]

[Normally when Sherlock prattles on, there are 2 ways it turns out: either as an amazingly insightful if occasionally poorly-timed or less-than-tactful deduction, or a long-winded insult. This is neither. And it's oddly... charming... to hear Sherlock going on in such a way.

John feels something strange and fluttery, deep down, but can't place what it could possibly be. Maybe lunch is acting up.]

No, uh, I know what you mean. You were definitely making sense, no need to trail off. It's a unique smell, snake houses. And this is a much nicer scent, all things considered. Um. Quite good.

Were any of the books you read about raising snakes in a magical environment? Maybe something happens...?

John, this is Hogwarts. Of course they were about magical environments. That is more or less to be expected in the wizard world.

[He feels his cheeks redden as he looks at John and has to look away at the egg. What is wrong with his body?! He always stares at John! People have commented for years that Sherlock needs to not stare at people! Now every time he tries he feels warmer. It's far too early in the year for it to be this warm. Must be the snake.

It feels weird to just insult John... so he kicks his leg under the table. ]

Well, yeah. But I know you like Muggle sciences as well. I didn't know if you'd gone for magical tomes or Muggle zoology textbooks.

[John notes the red on Sherlock's cheeks. Had his question really angered him that much? And why does that make him feel so uncomfortable? He must definitely be coming down with something if he's feeling this odd twinge instead of just taking it in mildly irritated stride. Maybe he can lighten the mood with a little humor.]

If this is the school's magic acting up, I hope it's nothing too out there. Last thing we need are fire-breathing snakes or something. I'm rather attached to my eyebrows; it'd be a shame to have them singed off.

He follows Sherlock's gaze to the egg. It's really close now, and he swears he can see scales through the widening cracks. And still the strangely appealing smell gets stronger.]

I'm sure you'd look very handsome still even without your eyebrows.

[Oh god he's said that out loud! Recover!]

I mean, you're blonde so they're not exactly noticeable as it is. Enough light hits your face and you're just a tan with fuzz and a tongue. I mean lips. I mean... maybe you should put your tongue back in your mouth, John, you're likely to lose that just as much as your eyebrows. From the snake.

[He fumbles for his little tool to help pull the crack in the shell wider.]

[Tongue? What the hell is he talking about? Subconsciously, John's tongue darts out to wet his lips, which feel conspicuously dry. It can't be good to have dry lips right now. That would be just terrible. ... but he has no idea why.

He leans in closer to get a look at the progress with the egg, though he stays out of Sherlock's way as he works.]

Doesn't look like it'll be much longer. You really did study up; you're doing a brilliant job with this.

[He blushes with the praise.]

I just don't happen to see the snake breaking through the egg as much of a rite of passage.

[It doesn't take long at all for the snake to finally break the crack open wide enough to slither on out. In its wake there is a much stronger waft of that curious smell but really, all Sherlock can think about is that he and John succeeded and now he has a baby snake to test things on.

With a huge grin he puts both hands on John's face and draws him in for a kiss, pressing his lips firmly to his.]

[John manages to make a small, surprised noise as Sherlock grabs his face, but the sound is immediately muffled as lips land on his own. For a split second, a tiny corner of him wonders if he ought to be protesting this, but a wave of that unusual smell rolls over him and the overwhelming majority of his mind tells that little corner to shut up. Loudly and rudely.

Unfortunately, Sherlock came in at a very awkward angle and is just sort of... being there. Although John is too pleased with what's happening right now to care too much, he is an experienced kisser and knows how to fix this. He tilts his head, returning the kiss and improving the contact.]

[By the time the first warning bells go off, ringing out "OH GOD DID YOU JUST--YOU DID! YOU IDIOT!", John has moved to improve his sloppy work of a kiss. And it's good. Since when was kissing supposed to feel like this?! Sherlock lets his hands fall from John's face since they're obviously more in the way than helpful. He invests all his attention in working out the movement of John's lips and the way it makes him feel, working up to returning the motions to see if two people approaching this with technique is an even greater improvement on the first half.

This kind of science is a lot more... involved and interesting than he initially thought. Perhaps he was judging things a bit too harshly in the past. Or maybe it was just John. The distinction didn't really matter right now.]

[John takes note of Sherlock's attempt to follow his example. Though it's shaky and unpracticed, it's good that he's trying. He gives a low, encouraging hum which resonates as a slight tingling on the lips, hoping Sherlock will get the message that his effort is appreciated. As Sherlock's awkward hands drop from his face, he brings his own hand up to cup Sherlock's chin and run a thumb over one of his very impressive cheekbones. Another lesson that hands on the face can work, provided they're not just shoved there willy-nilly.

It's strange, how this can simultaneously be so similar to and yet so astonishingly different from all the times he's kissed girls. But it's a good strange, even if it's beginning to register that they'll really need to get some air soon.]

[Just as he was the one to start it, Sherlock is the first to pull away from the kiss, his head spinning and his chest filling with short pants for breath. His eyes lock on John--he couldn't look away if he wanted to--and the painful need to kiss him again, wrap him up close in his arms, to study the texture of his skin from his forehead to his toes with his fingertips and lips is undeniable. He wants to own him and worship him and learn from him and teach him things as well. It's more than he's ever wanted of anyone and it makes him dizzy and drunk on pure emotion.

He doesn't regret one second of it but his heart is bracing itself in his ribcage for the blow that maybe it was still wrong anyway. John didn't seem to think so. John made kissing better, improve on an otherwise boring concept. But Sherlock seemed to always be wrong about these sorts of things. He licked his lips, feeling them still tingle from the memory.]

More.

[Always the addict. God dammit.]

[As he struggles to catch his own breath, John keeps his gaze pinned on Sherlock too. He'd never kissed another boy before, nor had he ever had any remote desire to. But, somehow, this was different. This was Sherlock. Brilliant, maddening, never-a-dull-moment Sherlock, for all the good and ill that entailed, though at this moment in time and awash in these feelings, John can't even begin to imagine those ills. The kiss had been fantastic.

He gives a small, soft laugh at Sherlock's insistence for more. Putting his hand on the back of Sherlock's neck, he rises up a bit to rest his forehead against Sherlock's.]

We need to catch our breath first. Last thing you want is to keel over from lack of oxygen, right? Besides, I'm not going anywhere.

Breathing is boring.

[Not that he's insisting too strongly that they not take a minute to regroup.

So... it wasn't a mistake for John either. Everything's okay. Better than okay. Way, way better than okay. Whether this was just casual or it meant they were boyfriends, it didn't matter. John wasn't going anywhere.

Sherlock took John's hand, feeling at his pulse. He'd already seen his pupils and certainly his heart rate was elevated as well. It seemed whatever had come over him, it had come over both of them. His gut said it was love as much as his head wondered if he was really even capable of love. The answer was rather obviously yes. He loved John. He never wanted to be parted from John.

Oh, and there was a snake baby somewhere and he hadn't taken its weight or body measurements yet.... but that required moving apart. So it could wait.]

[Now what is the loveable weirdo up to? Hold on. Loveable? John's heart hammers in his chest. It was very sudden, but... yes. Definitely. As completely thrown by the feelings bubbling up in him as he is, he's frankly a bit astonished that he's keeping his cool as well as he is. It helps that Sherlock seems to need all the guidance that he can when it comes to matters of the heart. Maybe it helps keep some perspective.

John tilts his head in confusion, a fond little smile on his lips and his brow quirked in amused speculation as Sherlock feels at his wrist. He lets Sherlock take his rapidly pounding pulse and he can't help but crack the joke that pops into his head.]

You know, when people say "playing doctor", that's not what they mean.

I'm sure you know exactly what they mean. This, however, happens to be part of my own specialty. Your pupils are dilated and your pulse is elevated. These are the normal, physical indicators of attraction. Preoccupation with physical proximity and touch followed by constant wetting or looking at the lips. All classic signifiers and you're displaying each and every one of them.

[It's a little strange to hear the signs of attraction compartmentalized into a neat little list of symptoms, but it's such a Sherlock thing to do. John can't help but feel the small flood of warmth in his chest as he considers all he signs in relation to Sherlock. He's definitely championing the physical closeness and had already shown that he was more aware of what John's lips were doing than John himself was. And then there's Sherlock's eyes - the tricky, grey-blue-green iris nothing but a tiny ring now in contrast to the wide pupils. John unknowingly wets his lips yet again looking at them.]

And your pulse...?

Hammering in my ears so loud I think it's a construction zone.

[He smiles.]

I've never... not ever. About anyone. Not even close.

[Touched, John smiles warmly.]

Well, then I suppose I ought to be flattered. Let me check. ... Yep. Very flattered indeed.

[He leans in, pressing a small, lingering kiss on the side of Sherlock's mouth.]

You said before you're not the type to have these sorts of feelings. It doesn't bother you, does it? Having them after all? It can be a lot to take in. Hell, even I'm a bit overwhelmed.

I'm not bothered. I don't understand half of what's going on with me and I'm not thinking anymore and that normally would be a terrifying concept but I can't really bring myself to care because it's you and that just makes it exciting. I can see why you'd find this sort of thing so appealing. It's fantastic. Everything just feels ridiculously inconsequential in comparison. John, why didn't you tell me what I was missing?!

[He plants his hands on John's face again, this time feeling his face like he's just learned to touch.]

[John gives an exhilarated little laugh as Sherlock touches his face like someone trying to commit it to tactile memory. Actually, that's probably exactly what's happening.]

To be honest, I've felt things close to this before, but never this... intense. It's new to me too. And I did try to tell you that this sort of thing is fantastic! You just blew me off. But that's okay. It's not really something you can understand without actually feeling it, huh? Like trying to tell a blind person what blue is like.

Edited 2013-02-11 03:08 (UTC)

Yes, that exactly! Regardless of my past reluctance, I can't ignore it anymore. I can't deny it. John, this is the most amazing feeling in the world. Not just what I feel but what it feels like to know how you feel. I can't even begin to articulate...

[So why bother. He pulls John in for another kiss, tilting his head this time for the proper angle, finding his bottom lip rather than mashing them together equally. People in general don't even like Sherlock, let alone love him. It's more than he ever hoped for or expected in his life.]

[Oh, Sherlock is a fast learner. But that makes sense, doesn't it? John knows he's the type to throw himself completely at whatever interests him. The quality had its good sides and bad, but for now, with his mind overwhelmed by the warm, wonderful press of Sherlock's lips against his own, John could only see the upsides. If he had improved this much after the first kiss, who knew how good he get as they kept this up.

This... whatever it was. Did he want to know what, exactly, this was?

... yes. He did. After a few moments longer, John pulls away for air. He pants to fill his lungs again, and the warm puffs of breath roll against Sherlock's near lips. John catches Sherlock's eye.]

So, what should we call... this? Us?

[Sherlock did not want the kiss to end and let out a small noise of dissatisfaction when all he's left with is breath. Why ask such stupid questions?]

It's exclusive. I don't share. It's not that I'm the jealous sort but I am rather possessive. Call that whatever name you want to label it--it's all the same to me. But I won't share. Never.

[John gives a small, half-amused snort and rubs at Sherlock's jawline in what he hopes is a calming gesture.]

Not really what I meant, but don't worry. Honestly, that's what I was thinking too. You can rest assured knowing that I've never cheated on anyone, and I'm sure as hell not about to start now.

Then just be my boyfriend and leave the complexities of language aside. Breathing not included, do you have any further interruptions we can get over with now before recommencing? I have a lot of ground to cover in my new studies.

[He was manic with interest but that wasn't so new. The outlet of his curiosities was but certainly not his level of immediate commitment to knowledge and practice.]

[That has to be the quickest boyfriend upgrade John's ever experienced, not including when he was in daycare and one of the little girls declared him her boyfriend because he gave her an extra sticker he had. He doesn't think that one really counts, though; he certainly hasn't considered it part of his dating track record, at any rate. But he's certainly not complaining about how speedy things are going with Sherlock, though, absolutely not.]

Well, okay then. That's settled. And to answer your question, we'll have to find that snake sometime. ... eventually. But I think a few more lessons can be squeezed in before that. [He grins.] Like, for example, how you keep noticing my tongue even though I've been very rude and haven't even introduced you properly.

[Sherlock's brows arch with that, a small, wicked glint in his eyes as he swung one leg over the bench, straddling it so he could sit closer, facing him rather than them both twisting in their seats. He put his hand on John's thigh for stability as he leaned down to make sure John's neck needn't strain.]

Who cares about some stupid snake. Always time for that nonsense later. You really are quite charming, John. Have you always been like this? I think I'll forgive your rudeness in light of it for now.

Suppose you're right. It's not like snakes need milk or anything like that. Very self-reliant animals, snakes.

[He adjusts his position as well. When Sherlock's warm hand lands on his thigh, he feels hyper-aware of it, as if all his other senses are dimmed in comparison.]

To the best of my knowledge I'm as charming as I've ever been. Now start taking notes. This'll be on the test.

[He raises his hand to Sherlock's neck and slowly moves it until it comes to rest at the back, where the nape of the neck meets with Sherlock's curly hairline. He twists a finger into that hair and tilts his head up as he gently pulls Sherlock down. It's a move his former girlfriends have liked, but now it's got the added bonus of equalizing their heights a bit. Such are the perils of kissing someone significantly taller than you.

He presses his lips to Sherlock again. If the Ravenclaw is that fascinated with his tongue, it was time to see if he liked the way the French did this sort of thing.]

[The finger toying with his curls, something that had always been rather soothing in the past, channeled a barely contained shiver of excitement down his spine. His family doesn't hug; his family doesn't kiss. The closest to another human being he's been is Tony and that had been unwanted and somewhat annoying at the best of times. But he can feel John's body heat and smell his soap and taste his lips. There's something fascinatingly human about being welcomed so close to another human being. Whatever test John proposes, Sherlock feels he's already passed something much greater. He's succeeded in being someone worthwhile to someone extraordinarily normal like John.

He braces his other hand on his own knee for a moment then slowly brings it to the small of John's back as he leans into the kiss, still finding ways to improve the movements he knows. He's stunned back into following John's lead as he feels the swipe of something new against his mouth and parts his lips further as he'd seen others do. John had always had a very friendly tongue, never one to stay out of sight for too long, but Sherlock had never really considered what it might feel like.]

Edited 2013-02-12 00:12 (UTC)

[John gives another encouraging hum as he deepens the kiss. He wasn't sure if Sherlock would balk at the unfamiliar sensations, but he'd been an eager participant - and instigator - of the more chaste kisses, so perhaps it was foolish to have worried about that at all. Sherlock's hand on his lower back is a good sign. Better an embrace than a shove away because John did something Sherlock wasn't prepared for.

He continues playing with Sherlock's hair at the back of his head. The texture is quite nice, tickling his fingers in a very pleasant way.]

[It's rather tricky, this kiss. He can't exactly mirror John's movements but there's something rather unappealing about just staying still. He knows he's not quite doing it right but he can't imagine there are too many wrong ways to suck a tongue. Better to try and be shown better than be still as a corpse.

Both his hands curl up into loose fists, the one on John's back taking the fabric of his shirt with it while his fingertips scrape softly over the material of his trousers.]

[Although Sherlock's attempts to go along with the kiss are a little clunky, John appreciated the effort. However, as soon as he felt Sherlock's hands clench into fists, he had second thoughts. From his perspective, it felt wonderful. The rumple of his clothes and scrape of fingertips successfully coaxed a small, pleased moan out of him. But what does the action mean for Sherlock? John knows it could be a good sign - a very good sign, at that - but it could just as easily be an indication that something's amiss. He knows that if something were really wrong, Sherlock could easily shove him away, and part of him wonders if he ought to stop and see if everything is still okay.

Slowly and reluctantly, he begins to pull back from the kiss a bit. That way, if Sherlock really is uncomfortable for whatever reason, he could easily break the kiss. On the other hand, he could just as easily continue it and practice what he's learned.]

[Sherlock moans softly as the retreat. John's face is not allowed to leave that unfamiliar proximity. It's perhaps very rude to insist but Sherlock's never worried much about being rude as he leans in, the hand at John's back coming up behind his neck to keep him still. John's not going anywhere. He said as much and Sherlock plans to hold him to it as literally as necessary.

With John on the retreat he tries to apply his own tongue to John's mouth, sliding along John's as he flicks over the roof of his mouth and applies what he's observed.]

[Well, clearly Sherlock hadn't been trying to get out of the kiss after all. That's all John needs to be convinced. After initiating and leading the kiss, he lets Sherlock show what he's learned. He's not perfect at it yet and clearly still needs practice. John's not about to start complaining about that.

Idly, in the incredibly tiny portion of his mind that's not completely wrapped up in enjoying the kiss, he realizes they can't keep the snogging going indefinitely. They'll have to eat, sleep, and use the bathrooms after all. Well. He will, anyway. Sherlock and his "transport" may be another matter. It'll be interesting to show Sherlock that couples can be together without shoving their tongues down each others throats constantly.]

[Sherlock wished it felt as nice when he kissed John as it had when John had kissed him. There would be time for improvement, though. He very much wanted to master the skill if he was ever going to be the best kisser John'd ever engaged with.

There were voices entering the Great Hall, the noise of their chatter an unwanted distraction. Sherlock let his lips fall from John as he turned his head to see teachers and students milling about He wasn't sure they'd ever really been alone but they certainly weren't anymore. Didn't these people have somewhere better to be?]

Likely to be told off if we continue here.

[His lips felt full and fuzzy.]

[John laughed as Sherlock ended the kiss. He rubbed his lips, which were a bit more flushed and full than they normally were. Probably a side-effect from all the... exercise.]

Yeah, plus my lips might fall off if I don't give them at least a bit of a break. It's been quite a while since they've had such a strong workout.

Where to? Though we probably ought to find our snake before we do anything. [He gestures at the long-forgotten kit Sherlock had brought with him.] You had all that science you wanted to do before we got... er. Distracted.

[Sherlock nodded, licking his lip as he got up off the bench. Bit awkward his trousers being a bit snugger than he's used to. Bless the added bulk of robes.]

I'll bring my equipment, you transport the snake. Your room or mine?

[Oh. Oh, that's a loaded question. And a bit dangerous. Sure, Sherlock hadn't managed to get caught when he invaded Hufflepuff, and to John's knowledge none of the Ravenclaws who had seen him enter their territory had reported him for interloping when he had to make sure Sherlock wouldn't break the egg. But watching out for an assignment is a much better excuse than 'we need a quiet place to snog'.

John drums his fingers on his knees, not quite trusting himself to stand up yet. His robes should hide anything incriminating, but he might need to think a few very cold thoughts to walk properly.]

Er, you mean where we can check up on the snake? Or...?

I'm far more interested in using this on you.

[He waved his measuring tape before popping it in his bag.]

I don't know the circumference of your skull, whether your ring or index finger is longer, or which toe on your foot is dominant. Then there's nipple diameter, whether your belly button is quite shallow or deep, visible hair growth patterns, which leg you dress down. I've never had another person all to myself and there's so much I don't know about you.

And the kissing, of course. I don't want to be weird about it.

[John raises an eyebrow at that, but smiles regardless.]

Oh yeah, no one could ever possibly find any of that weird. If we go to my dorm and any of my roommates show up, I get to try to sound as casual as I can while saying something like, "Oh, this? This thing that's happening? Just my new boyfriend measuring my armpit hair. For science." But if we go to your dorm there's the looming threat of Tony. Rock and a hard place, I think.

What do you plan to do with all that information, anyway?

Not all facts have their usefulness predetermined. Sometimes you simply have to know things in order to find their purpose later on.

There are enchantments that can cause invisibility and sound proofing. Nothing we couldn't apply to the bed if you're worried about housemates. But yes, there is the issue with getting inside that cannot really be overcome by just walking in like we own the place. I honestly don't care, though. What's the worst they can do? Give me detention? Worth it if I can test your scar tissue for sensitivity.

[The amused look on John's face fades at the mention of the scar. He presses his lips tightly together as he thinks, and his expression becomes slightly more guarded. The issue of the scar and its origin is still very much a sore spot. With all the strong feelings surrounding it, it's no wonder that the notion of someone else examining it at length involves a level of intimacy and trust that John's sure he's never experienced. Trust issues. It's kept that part of John's body locked away from everyone - friends, even family. Especially family, who can't seem to grasp the fact that magic isn't a cure-all that heals all ails. He hasn't trusted anyone with it.

Until now. Possibly.]

Sherlock, about the scar... Nobody's really touched it since I was discharged from St. Mungo's. I try not to let others even see it, let alone anything more than that. It could bring up some incredibly nasty memories.

Or you could learn to associate it with something other than the events which caused it.

[He shrugs, closing his bag.]

I would rather there not be an inch of your skin I have not fully inspected and committed to memory but there's always time later on I suppose. I promise that you are as safe in my hands as I am in yours, though that certainly doesn't excuse either of us from feeling intimidated by the other.

[John chews his bottom lip, considering. It's certainly a much more appealing option than letting things go as they are. Maybe he really can record over the bad memories embedded in the rough and jagged mar on his skin with good ones. But as he listens to the rest of Sherlock's words, confusion sets in.]

Me? Intimidate you? C'mon. I stop [He pats at the top of his head.] where your chin begins, more or less!

When eggs leave emotions scrambled...

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