It Belongs In A Museum
"John ... I thought you said this was a library?" Sherlock turned a corner and found himself in the middle of what instead appeared to be ... a museum?
John meanwhile, rounded the corner and came crashing into a halted Sherlock.
He looked the taller man up and down before peering about the room before them. Trying to see what might have arrested his flatmate's attention?
Hanging on every available inch of the walls ...
. Were brilliant works of art, in every style and fashion ...
Full sized paintings ... hand drawn sketches ... and mostly digital works ... some full color, some in a manga or comic book art style ... but all featuring ...
The question had also paralyzed the detective. Try as he might ... he simply could not compute the sheer amount of time and effort that had been put into this lovingly curated hall of art works ... ?
"John ... are you seeing-?"
. "What you're seeing ... ?" John finished for him, "yeah mate." He nodded imperceptibly. Unable to tear his eyes away from the mesmerizing pictures that graced the gallery walls.
His tongue darted out to wet his lips, as he caught a glimpse of something he definitely wanted a closer look at! And he was off ... Sherlock hard on his heels.
They spun about, smiling ... laughing ... tugging each other to see and comment on various pieces ... catching themselves eyeing each other with newfound wonder as they explored ... and often a hand over their mouths as they suppressed the joy that threatened to spill over like an uncorked bottle of champagne!
John had never seen Sherlock so animated, as when he was choosing his favourite image of John and having John imitate - or try as he might - NOT imitate - the position or stance that the artist had put them in ...
They landed on the floor laughing and rolling in each others arms after chasing each other around the silent gallery ...
Until John remembered - they were in a gallery! or what was supposed to be a LIBRARY! - and he hushed Sherlock with a finger to his lips ... Following it with a hesitant ... and careful kiss.
"How long has this been going on, John?" he asked, needing to know more. John shrugged, his smile deepening even as he flattened himself against the ground and simply enjoyed the feel of Sherlock in his arms ... The man was gorgeous with his hair all aglow in the gallery lighting ...
. "I honestly don't know, Sherlock," he replied ... tugging the detective down by his shirt front for another good snog ... "but I'm guessing they all noticed it before we did?"
. Sherlock hummed in acknowledgement. Accepting John's lips and the warmth of his nearness like a glove that fit only too well ...
John felt a twinge in his back at being on the cold, hard floor too long though - and pushed Sherlock off of him, playfully - rising and helping the man to his feet.
"Guess we should see what we came here for?" John offered, leading the way, "think the library is back here? Ah!" He flicked on a lightswitch behind a pair of double doors ... and a
Slipped out of their mouths simultaneously ... jaws dropping.
As the darkened warehouse before them flickered to life, row ... by illuminated row ...
Revealing hundreds ... if not thousands ... NO ... HUNDREDS of thousands!!! Of stories ...
. Written about ... them?
Before dashing ahead in a mad chase. Each grabbing up several volumes apiece and meeting to read a few pages ...
. "John - you won't believe-!" "Sherlock!" "John!"
. "This is-" "-I'm taking this one!" "This is brilliant!"
. "We're in a sci-fi!" "oooh an epic!" "OHmyGOD!"
John's giggling could be heard a few rows down, and Sherlock tucked another in his pocket and swung around the shelving to peruse over John's shoulder.
"I think ..." John grinned wickedly "... I've found the E rated section ...!"
Sherlock's eyes grew wide as saucers and he tore the book from John's hands ... devouring pages at a time! Then he looked up at the rows and rows of shelves, his gaze glossing towards empty - but John could see he was critically engaged in making a heavy calculation.
"Verdict?" John asked, smirking. Having allowed the great genius to do his mental gymnastics.
"I think we're going to need more bookshelves at Baker Street," Sherlock stated, "... and we may need to try everything suggested."
"For science?" John asked, solemnly.
"For science," Sherlock agreed. Hiding his own burgeoning grin.
Then they both stood. Sheepishly looking down at their own feet ... and then at the rows and rows of unexplored fiction they could wander through ... endlessly ... nightly ... for the rest of their lives ...
"John ... ?" Sherlock asked, then, quietly. As if whispering in a holy room, "... what did you say this place was called again?'
He was a boy again. Full of wonder.
John smiled. Recognizing the dawn of a new era of their lives. He answered, just as solemnly,
"I'd say it was ... an archive of our own?"
Then he met Sherlock's adoring eyes,
. ... as the lights above ... winked.
