Shaving, Gum

“Sherlock?You home?”

John hears the buzz of the razor before he hearsSherlock himself, a low vibrating hum on the air. It’s an odd sound to hear, since Sherlock never uses the electric razor, and John frowns because he can’t put the picture together in his head.

Sherlock. Electric razor.

No.

Something is wrong.

It’s only as he’s right outside the bathroom door that he hears Sherlock himself, a steady stream of profanities, low and snarling, and as John steps around the corner of the door, he’s brought up short at the sight that greets him.

Sherlock stands, completely naked in front of the sink. All around his feet, scattered across the bathroom tile, is a carpet of dark hair, familiar twisted curls and jagged cropped locks. John stares in wide-eyed incredulity as Sherlock, his hands raised to his head, slides John’s electric razor over the dark fuzz on his scalp. It passes over, leaving a clean pink line behind it.

“Sherlock,” John says. “What the—”

In front of the mirror, Sherlock’s blazing blue eyes snap towards him. “We are never, ever having children,” he snarls.

John stares at him with his mouth hanging open and has no idea what to say.

“Erm.”

“Never. Do you hear me? If you want children, best tell me now because this will never work between us.”

“I—um, no. I don’t want—Sherlock…what—”

“Gum, John.” He growls and swipes the razor over his head. More dark fuzz disappears and John watches in fascination as another strip of pink scalp appears, naked and smooth. “I was at the shops because we ran out of milk and you always complain that I never replace the milk. And the puling spawn of some unnatural anomaly of human existence put gum in my hair. Gum, John. In my hair.”

“You…you shaved your whole head because of gum?”

Another pink stripe appears and Sherlock turns his glare on John. “I was angry. This is your fault. For not being home to stop me and because you made me go to the shops.”

John presses his lips together and nods, not sure what to say. More dark fuzz disappears and more smooth skin is revealed. John stares and is aware of an incredibly dangerous impulse to burst into laughter.

“Um,” he says. “I’ll make tea, shall I?”

“You can’t,” Sherlock snaps. “There’s no milk.”

“No mil—I thought you said you went to the shops.”

The look Sherlock gives him is utterly scathing. “Do you think I stayed to have further indignities visited upon me by the underdeveloped masses? Do you know what the demonspawn’s mother said when it happened?”

“Um.”

“She said it was my fault for standing so close. As if I had a choice when she refused to move up in the line and I had to reach past her to get the bloody lane divider myself.”

“That sounds—just wow. Yeah. That’s…that’s very…very…” and suddenly the laughter is there, bubbling past the words and spilling out, and John leans against the door frame and howls.

“John. John, this isn’t funny.”

“Oh my God,” John manages to say before he can’t say anything at all and he stumbles out of the bathroom, snorting and convulsing helplessly with laughter. He tumbles into the bedroom and collapses whooping onto the bed.

Sherlock is behind him, his face a picture of outrage, and he stands over John in all his naked glory, his head pink and gleaming, and he glowers down as John clutches at his belly and wails.

“John. For God’s sake. This isn’t funny. John, I’m bald!”

John tries to speak, to say something, to reassure Sherlock that it’s really not so bad, but the second he sees that pale pink pate he goes off again, cackling uncontrollably into the bed sheets.

“Oh for God’s sake,” Sherlock snaps, and pounces at him and John gives a surprised choke of half-alarmed laughter as he giggles helplessly against Sherlock’s sudden onslaught.

“You think I’m hilarious, do you?” Sherlock demands, and John giggles and squirms at the hands dragging at his trousers fastenings. “You think this is something to laugh about?”

“Sherlock, oh my God!”

“Yes, keep laughing, John,” Sherlock snaps, but his lips are fighting at the corners and there is dangerous amusement glittering at in his eyes. “I want to see how funny you think I am,” Sherlock growls, and John gives a shriek of terrified laughter as Sherlock drags his trousers off.

“Sherlock, Jesus Christ! You shaved your head!”

Sherlock snarls and bites down on the flesh of John’s belly and John gives a high-pitched giggle as he tries to worm away.

“Oh no you don’t, Doctor Watson.” Sherlock drags him back and pushes his thighs up and John tries to breathe past the laughter that is consuming him, of Sherlock’s eyes, huge and impossibly dark without the contrast of his hair. He continues to giggle at the first finger that pushes into him, breathless and flushed as the knuckle slips past his rim and he looks up at Sherlock with tears in his eyes, at that wickedly grinning face, beautiful and naked and weirdly inhuman without the curls dancing around it. “Keep laughing, John,” Sherlock says with a grin. “I want to see how funny you think I am with my cock deep inside you.”

“Sherlock, Jesus. I can’t believe you shaved your head.”

“I don’t need my hair to fuck you, John,” Sherlock says, and he pushes a second finger in and John’s giggles abruptly fade into a moan.

By the time the third finger pushes inside him, John’s giggles have been subsumed entirely by panting groans and when Sherlock pulls them out to replace them with his cock, pressing into John with a slow thrusting movement, John is open mouthed and the sound that’s dragged from him as Sherlock’s cock splits him open is belly deep and textured.

When John comes, it is with his hands on Sherlock’s head, fingers pressed claw-like into the smooth scalp above him as Sherlock fucks them both to completion. And afterwards, collapsed side by side, their come drying in itchy streaks on John’s thighs  and belly, John presses his face against the soft exposed skin of Sherlock’s head and grins.

“I like it,” he says. “But I miss having your hair to grab onto when I come.”

Sherlock nuzzles against John’s lips and chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you have plenty of opportunity to get used to it before it grows back.”

~ceywoozle

FiFth Harmony EXCLUSIVE BEHIND THE SCENES moments before the Scoopla Interview with Justin Hill in Australia

At 0:41

Lauren: I love your hair by the way.

Camila: Thanks…thanks, Sweets!

Lauren: *flirtatious tongue click* You’re welcome, Sweets!

Lauren: Chills…you gave me chills.