+13: All About That Bass - Meghan Trainor

Request from @CountVonSquash

-

High cheekbones. An angular chin that's far too narrow. A long face. A large forehead that he manages to hide behind his curls. Pale skin. And far, far too skinny.

Sherlock's always known that he's not exactly beautiful or even good looking. He'd accepted this and when he was growing up, his mother always stamped on the hurtful comments launched at him regarding his appearance.

He only had two features that he sort of liked.

One was his eyes. He loved the way they changed each day and with his mood. They were different, unique and even if some bullies thought them weird, he didn't care. He absolutely loved his eyes.

The next of feature of his that he was proud of was his backside. It was round and full and he had gotten numerous compliments throughout his lifetime. He always made sure to wear fitted trousers. Yeah, he was definitely proud of his arse and the little bit of attention he got from it. 

Still, he'd never felt beautiful. Confident, yes.. but not beautiful.

He knew he was smart and he prided himself on that fact. The work was everything and therefore what he had in his head mattered the most.

But sometimes, late at night when he's staring up at the ceiling and feeling alone, he wishes that he had someone around to hold him and tell him that he's beautiful. And he doesn't mean his mother after he's been through another beating at school. What he wants is to have someone that will tell him he's beautiful without being given a reason to have to tell him. He wants them to lean close and whisper that he's incredibly beautiful and for them to do that because that's what they think and they want to make him feel beautiful.

Day in, day out, he's told his mind is beautiful and brilliant and all the other words that John could find to describe his thought process.

When will someone come along who thinks all of him is beautiful?

Sherlock sighs and rolls onto his side, pushing his face into the pillow. He knew it was only wishful thinking but he definitely wanted that...

*

You look gorgeous today, darling. That shirt is rather fetching. -JM x

Sherlock blinks at the message, his mouth falling open in shock and whatever he was saying to Lestrade is forgotten. His heart is going wild, for many reasons. Not only was this the first message Sherlock had received from Moriarty since the whole of England was hijacked by his little 'did you miss me' stunt but.. he was being called gorgeous. Gorgeous! Not just beautiful, but gorgeous.

"Sherlock?" Lestrade asks, voice tainted with worry.

Sherlock looks up and he feels his cheeks explode with colour. "Oh! Erm, right. As I was saying, the brother..."

Once he's done explaining the crime to everyone, Sherlock strolls out of the Yard and pulls his phone out again, bringing up the message from Jim again.

Gorgeous.

Smiling, Sherlock heads home.

That night when he's laying in bed and staring up at the ceiling, he feels a little less lonely. Jim thinks he looked beautiful today. No, gorgeous. That's a step up from beautiful. Sherlock's stomach gives a happy flutter before he rolls on his side and smiles into the pillow, his eyes falling closed.

He doesn't even care that it's Jim, the Consulting Criminal. The man that wanted him dead and gone. His equal and competition. He just didn't care because finally someonethought he was beautiful.

Over the next few days, everyone picks up on the spring in Sherlock's step. Even Jim.

*

My dear, did you know that you look exceptionally pretty when the glow of the sun reflects off your skin? -JM x

The sun was out in England for once and Sherlock, like many others, hadn't wasted the day indoor. Granted, he was only outside because he was chasing a suspected murderer through Regent's Park. Still, he was outside.

He'd just got the suspect in cuffs and handed him over to the waiting DI when his phone had chimed.

When his eyes dart over the words, his lips stretch into a grin and he feels fuzzy all over. He's always thought that he was too pale and it made him look sickly... but Jim thought it was pretty. He thought Sherlock was pretty.

Sherlock walks back to his flat, feeling oddly light headed.

When he gets in, he falls into his chair and can't seem to take the smile off his face.

He was being noticed for more than his brain. That felt stupidly good.

*

The messages become more frequent as time passes and slowly they increase in detail to the point Sherlock feels like he's reading an extract from a romantic novel each time his phone chimes and Jim's name comes on screen.

Everyone around him has noticed his improved mood. Rarely does he not have a spring in his step and occasionally they find that's he's smiling for seemingly no reason. He's just so happy and it's nice to see their usually grumpy friend like that. It's even making him a little more pleasant to be around. The congregate and go through some wild theories and it seems that everyone is just happier and enjoying life a little more.

Sherlock doesn't find himself staring up at the ceiling and wishing he had someone, feeling down and just rubbish about himself. He feels as though he has someone, even if Jim hasn't physically appeared since before he 'killed himself'. Sherlock doesn't mind too much, the messages alone are enough to get him grinning like a loon and feeling special.

Jim makes him feel beautiful.

Sherlock sometimes finds himself laying in bed and imagining a soft pressure from Jim's lips under his ear and then a soft Irish lit whispering how beautiful he is. His heart beats rapidly at the thought and sends his stomach into frantic cartwheels.

He loves this. This attention from Jim. It never fails to make his day.

*

"Ah, well, hello there, gorgeous" His voice echoes through the hall, his accent bouncing off the walls and hitting Sherlock with an intense warmth as his stomach does flips and turns and summersaults.

Sherlock sucks in a breath, smiling and absorbing the feeling of being called gorgeous before he pivots to face the other man. Jim looks exactly as Sherlock remembers. Well tailored suit, his hands casually slipped his pockets, his brown eyes alive with the excitement and danger of this situation and, of course, a lazy yet ever charming smile on his lips.

This man thinks I'm beautiful... Sherlock thinks, his smile not leaving his face.

"Hello, James. Nice to see you"

"Mm. You too" Jim grins, his eyes lowering from Sherlock's face and roaming over the rest of his body before they return to his face. "Very nice, indeed"

Sometimes, Sherlock wonders if Jim realises how much Sherlock wants someone to think he's beautiful and if Jim realises just what he's doing to Sherlock with his comments.

Sherlock's heart rate spikes and he's sure that Jim can tell how flustered he's becoming. He doesn't care because Jim thinks he's beautiful and really that's just so fantastic to see in person. To see the evidence in front of him that Jim isn't messing around when he calls him pretty or beautiful or gorgeous. He means it when he says these things... It sends Sherlock's heart into a stuttering mess.

Searching his brain, Sherlock tries to remember what they're here for. If there's even is a reason. Is there a case? Sherlock doesn't know. All he can focus on is how he feels right now. He hasn't felt so appreciated in.. well.. ever.

Jim takes a step closer, the sound echoing around the wooden room. They're in some kind of hall, where parties and such would be held.

Sherlock thought it would be impossible for him to get more excited. But he did. With each step that Jim took, Sherlock's breathing would hitch or he'd squirm or his smile would pull up at the corner.

Before Sherlock knows it, Jim is right in front of him. He reaches out and Sherlock forgets that this man may want to hurt him. He can't even process much at the moment. He keeps thinking of all the messages.

Jim's hand slides onto Sherlock's cheek, his thumb stroking the skin as he stares into Sherlock's eyes. "You're breathtaking, you know that, don't you?" Jim asks, eyebrows raising and his lips forming a smile.

Sherlock shakes his head, almost shy, as he feels colour flush his cheeks. He's blushing. He doesn't care, thought. Because Jim is here and Jim thinks he's breathtaking.

"Well" Jim says in a fond voice, laughing slightly. "You are. Very much so. You certainly take my breath away"

"I do?" Sherlock asks, grinning as his hand slides up to cover Jim's own.

"Definitely" Jim nods. His free hand slides on to Sherlock's hip, pulling him closer. "I love how lean you are, such smooth lines" Jim traces his fingers up Sherlock's side as he speaks.

Sherlock breathes in, hardly containing his happiness. He always thought he was too skinny. But Jim liked his shape.

"What else?" asks Sherlock, curious.

"Your hair" the other replies without hesitation. "It's so curly and unruly, yet perfect. It looks soft too" His hand moves to Sherlock's fringe, his fingers slotting into the curls and smoothly gliding through until Jim's hand falls from the locks. "And it is soft." Jim laughs.

Sherlock doesn't ask but gestures for Jim to continue.

"Your face. I absolutely love your face." Both Jim's hand cup Sherlock's face now. "The more I look at it, the more I find myself loving it. God, you're gorgeous, Sherlock"

Jim doesn't get to say anymore. Sherlock doesn't think, he just acts on his instincts and leans forward. His lips meet the corner of Jim's mouth, silencing him.  Then, Jim leans his head forward too and their lips collide is a fast, messy kiss that Sherlock feels like he's been waiting for forever.

Jim's hands slide up, tangling with his hair and creating a pleasing pressure. It's like he's afraid Sherlock will sudden go poofand disappear.

Smiling into the kiss, Sherlock takes a baby step closer but the small distance feels like he's miles closer than before. Sherlock can feel Jim's body heat and his hands slide around to rest on his lower back and absorb that heat.

Jim's breathing hitches. Sherlock pulls back for air, grinning.

"For the record" he murmurs "I think you're beautiful too"