[ Unfortunately the thought had not even slightly occurred to Sherlock, and so his momentary frown is both confused and dismissive. ]
What? No, come here.
[ With his hands still wrapped around John's shoulders he bullies them back under the mistletoe, glancing up briefly to ensure its location. When he looks back at John, it's back -- that blood-deep compulsion to kiss him -- and it hardly even feels external. It feels like the desire is welling up organically from his own mind, and Sherlock-with-memory must be a man with poor impulse control because Sherlock-lacking-memory doesn't bother trying to fight it, lowering his head in order to bring their mouths together again. ]
no subject
What? No, come here.
[ With his hands still wrapped around John's shoulders he bullies them back under the mistletoe, glancing up briefly to ensure its location. When he looks back at John, it's back -- that blood-deep compulsion to kiss him -- and it hardly even feels external. It feels like the desire is welling up organically from his own mind, and Sherlock-with-memory must be a man with poor impulse control because Sherlock-lacking-memory doesn't bother trying to fight it, lowering his head in order to bring their mouths together again. ]