Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Word Count: 500
Summary: Jim comes back
An: Written for the slashthedrabble prompt: resurrection
An2: Also here at AO3
Sherlock stood at Jim's grave. The sun was shinning. As he looked at the grave stone, he thought that it would be more fitting if the sky was grey.
He didn't believe in God, he believed in what he could see and feel, but if he did he would want Jim to be resurrected. The boredom was crushing and he could almost feel his brain dying from disuse.
Jim had been a virus that wormed his way into Sherlock's system.
As he stared at the gravestone, someone came up beside him and stood next to him.
'Miss me?' A familiar voice asked.
Sherlock hadn't gotten high in a while, but he must be high because the spectre of Jim stood next to him.
'Go away,' Sherlock said. Now was not the time for hallucinations.
'Oh, honey. You don't mean that.'
'I do. You are merely a figment of my imagination.'
'Jim' grabbed Sherlock's shoulders and turned him to face Jim. He looked into Sherlock's eyes and grinned.
'Oh, really? What would you do if I kissed you?'
Sherlock thought about it. No matter how real 'Jim' was, that had never kissed. No matter how much Sherlock wanted it, they never even kissed in real life either.
He moved close and brushed his lips against Jim's cheeks. He catalogued everything. Jim's skin was warm and smelt like lemon scented soap.
'Jim' moved his head and their lips met. His lips were rough and chapped, but Sherlock couldn't get enough. He pulled Jim close and revelled in the way Jim kissed back with vigour.
Jim's tongue brushed against Sherlock's lips and he opened his mouth and their tongues brushed against each other.
Jim broke the kiss and Sherlock whimpered. 'Do you still think I'm imaginary?'
Sherlock didn't trust himself to speak, Jim affected him in many ways, so he shook his head.
'Good, now that I have you I'm not letting you go.'
If anyone would have said that, he would have rebelled, but it didn't sound so bad coming from Jim.
They left the cemetery and everything happened quickly. They drove to Sherlock's flat. Once inside, they grabbed at each other and clothes fell to the floor as they made their way to Sherlock's bedroom.
Sherlock kissed and licked at Jim's shoulder and tasted salty skin.
Jim grinned. 'You like me, huh?'
Sherlock looked up at Jim. 'I thought that was obvious?'
'Nope. Lust and like are two different things.'
'What would you do if I said it was just lust?'
Sherlock kissed Jim cheek and whispered into his ear, 'It's more than lust. So much more.'
Sherlock had spent his life cataloguing and defining everything, but he couldn't define his feelings for Jim. He felt more than lust.
'In that case, would you take a nap with me? You look like death.'
They got into his bed and wrapped themselves around each other and fell asleep.
He might not believe in God, but he believed in Jim.