#I love the idea of Sherlock being more ticklish when tipsy/or drunk

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Great In Theory, Bad In Execution (Moriarty The Patriot)

Two fics in one weekend- whoop whoop! So Moriarty the Patriot. A gem of an anime filled with equally shiny characters! I love Sherlock so much, so naturally I have to write him! I hope you like it! :D

Summary: After one too many incidents of his ticklishness being discovered, Sherlock decides to create a "remedy" to make himself immune. Of course- how will he test it? Watson finds himself dragged in to help.

“Dreadful, shameful, an embarrassment to my reputation, how’d I let myself slip so easily-” Sherlock was pacing about his room, one hand shoved into his pocket while the other pushed his hair out of his face. All these hours later and his cheeks were still tinted a stubborn pink, deeping whenever the memory of that night replayed in his mind. “I should have never- I could have- UGH!”

“Sherlock?” A pajama clad Watson peeked in, cringing some at the glare his flatmate shot him. “Are you well? You're making quite a bit of noise. Miss Hudson-”

“Sherlock Holmes! If you don’t stop that insistent pacing I’m putting you on the street!” Said woman stormed in, tugging her robe tightly over her. Much like Watson, she was dressed in her nightwear, her sleep mask crooked against her forehead. “What in god’s name has you so excited?”

“Oh come now, you two! It’s only…” Sherlock looked at the nearby clock, blanching at the hour. “Eh…eheh. I hadn’t realized how late it was.” He cleared his throat, grinning sheepishly at his companions. “Well, I should be off to bed now. Goodnight you two-”

“Oh no you don’t!” Watson blocked his path. “You woke us both up with all your noise! Knowing you- if I leave you be, you’ll just go right back to pacing!” The doctor took him in then, brows furrowing at Sherlock’s outwear. “Did you just get back from somewhere?”

“Yes- the local pub. I had some business there when I ran into Moriarty.” Sherlock waved the details off, a gesture that would have seemed nonchalant if it weren't for the pink still staining his face. Watson and Miss Hudson shared a look.

“Well, I’m off to bed.” Their landlady announced, figuring what was about to be spoken should stay private. “Keep the noise down, will you Sherlock?” She smiled kindly at Watson before disappearing down the hall. Upon her exit, the detective seemed to relax some.

“It’s just the two of us now, Holmes.” Watson prompted. “Wanna talk about it?”

Sherlock groaned, walking towards the nearest couch and flopping down. “No. But…”

~~Earlier that evening~~

“Aha! Professor- what a pleasant surprise!” Sherlock grinned when his eyes landed on the familiar blonde man sitting by. “I take it you’ve finished your evening classes at the local university?”

“Hm? Oh, Mr. Holmes. A pleasure to see you too, yes.” Said man smiled, the expression a bit tired. “I’ve been stuck at the office for quite some time today-  I’d much prefer teaching my students over grading their work.” Turning to the bartender, he ordered a round of drinks for them as the detective sat down. “How are things with your profession?”

“Boooring. If I get one more missing cat case, my head’s gonna explode.” Sherlock groaned, leaning into a hand as he vented about his most recent cases. If Watson were here, he’d probably scold him for speaking so crudely about his work. At least with William he could be frank. The Professor never seemed to be phased by Sherlock’s lack of filter.

“I suppose that’s the cost of popularity. You gain more work, but it lacks the intrigue you’re searching for.” William smiled behind his whisky as he watched Sherlock shoot his back, slapping his cup down with a satisfying nod. “Surely it’s not all boring?”

“Eh, I suppose. We did uncover quite the cheater! This lord- heh, he really thought he was slick.” Sherlock turned, something sinister in his tipsy grin. “He was sneaking women into his bedchambers almost every night! You know how he got caught? We found him in the bu-”

In Sherlock’s excitement, his hand accidentally knocked his empty glass towards the ground. Both men reached for it at the same time, William’s reflexes faster due to sobriety. Sherlock missed altogether.

What didn’t miss was William’s hand accidentally brushing the detective’s side.

“Gah!”

“Oh? Apologies, Mr. Holmes. Did I hurt you?” William looked up at the other, eyes curious at how red the other looked then. “Mr. Holmes?”

“I-It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Sherlock turned back to the bar, arms crossed around his middle in a failed attempt to look casual. That certainly sobered him up. William tilted his head curiously before his easy smile returned.

“Very well- I shall take my leave. My brothers; they tend to grow worried for me if I’m out later.” He gathered his bag and hat, leaving a coin for the bartender with a nod. “We’ll have to pick up where we left off next time, Mr. Holmes. I’m intrigued to hear how your riveting story ended.”

“Oh? Yeah, sure, definitely.” Sherlock nodded, unable to look anywhere but that blasted whisky glass. William passed by from behind. As he did, Sherlock felt something like a prod to the ribs, making him shoot up with a yelp.

“Apologies.” William smiled, eyes dancing with devilish delight. “I tripped.”

Sherlock was left sitting there at the bar for quite a long time.

~~Current Time~~

“That’s all?” Watson asked, blinking at his friend. “Sherlock, with all due respect, don’t you think you’re overreacting to such a small gesture?”

“Overreacting?” Sherlock sat up, his glare hot. “That was no small gesture, Watson! Moriarty, I could see it in his eyes! He knew what he had discovered!” Sherlock started to stand, pausing as if remembering Miss Hudson’s warning before easing back in his seat. “I felt like a fool- for something so, so childish!”

“Sherlock, many people are ticklish.” Watson reassured him, wincing some when Sherlock cut him another look. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, and besides- the likelihood of Moriarty using it against you is slim.”

“That’s not the problem, John! It’s not that he knows I’m…” Sherlock stumbled, squirming in his seat. “Sensitive- It’s how annoying it is in my everyday life! I can’t even get fitted for a suit or checked at the department without being reminded of it!” The detective huffed, crossing his arms. “I was cursed with this dreadful ailment- a trade perhaps for my intellect. Given the ability to solve cases but now I must live with too sensitive skin!”

“Yes. Unfortunately there isn’t anything that can be done for that.” Watson mused. “No potions or medicines exist to remove ticklishness from the body.”

Sherlock nodded glumly, and then stopped. Eyes widening, his brain went into overdrive. “John, you ol’ chap, you’re a genius!” Sherlock grinned, making the doctor look up with a blink. “A medicine to stop being so sensitive! It’s perfect!”

“Sherlock I wasn’t being serious-” Watson began, finding himself being pushed out the room gently by the detective. “Sherlock?”

“No time! I must get to work, Watson! Time is of the essence!” Sherlock smiled before shutting the door in Watson’s face, leaving the other staring at old mahogany.

“Oh dear…” The doctor yawned, suddenly too tired to deal with this. “This will only end in disaster, won’t it?”

~~~

“John! John! Come quickly!” Sherlock’s cries shocked Watson out of his morning routine. The doctor raced towards the bedroom, panic setting in. Has Sherlock hurt himself? Did an experiment go wrong?

“Sherlock, what is it?” Watson sprinted into the room, finding Sherlock in mint condition before him. In his hand he held a beaker containing a ruby red liquid. “Erm..you have a drink?”

“What? No, this is no ordinary drink, John!” Sherlock shook his head, presenting the glass to the other. “This is my creation! A cure for the dreaded sensitivity afflicting my body!”

“What…oh. Your remedy for being ticklish.” Watson felt his body relax, glad to know no real danger was before him. “I’m glad you’re- What are you doing?”

Sherlock, after presenting the cup, chugged the entirety of its contents in one go. Wiping the drips of red from his lips, he nodded. “Oh yes…I feel it, John. My genius is working!”

“You’re mad!” Watson cried, running over and grabbing Sherlock’s collar. His skin looked fine, no sudden changes in color or texture. “Why would you drink that? Oh no- where’s the charcoal? Tell me you have charcoal!” John yanked open the nearest drawer, searching for the tablets. “We need to get you to the hospital before you-”

“John, John, easy!” Sherlock took his arm, pulling him away from the drawers. “I’m fine! If the solution was dangerous, clearly I’d be dead now, wouldn’t I?”

“Poisons work differently, Sherlock!” John grabbed the beaker, bringing it to his nose. “If we can identify the chemicals-”

“John.” Sherlock cut him off, finally silencing the other. “I assure you I’m fine. I know my way around a lab, thank you.”

The doctor was quiet, still staring at the beaker in hand. Finally, he sighed, putting it down on the table and turning to his flatmate. “Alright. I trust you. So, this magical medicine you made?” John gestured to Sherlock’s body. “Does it work?”

“I don’t know. That’s the thing about humans, we can’t exactly test ourselves regarding our sensitivity.” Sherlock looked thoughtful before making his way over to the couch, shrugging off his jacket and shoes. Once comfortable, he sprawled out along the cushions, tucking his arms behind his head. “Come on now.”

“Erm…what?” Watson asked.

“Do it.” Sherlock told him. Watson stared some more. “Come on now- we don’t know how long this remedy will last.”

“You want me to…tickle you?” Watson asked. Sherlock flushed at the question, but nodded. “Are you sure?”

“Yes yes! Now hurry! Before the solution wears off!” Sherlock fussed impatiently. Watson sighed before walking over, stretching out his hands.

“Very well. Just remember, you asked me to do this.”

“Hah, no worries! If this worked, I’ll be imu-uuhhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuuhuhne!” Sherlock spasmed when Watson’s fingers touched his body, clawing at his stomach and sides. “Aheahhahahahhahaha! Whahahahhahaht the hehhehehehhheehhell?”

“Did it not work?” Watson asked, brows furrowing as he continued dragging his fingers along Sherlock’s torso. “You sounded so sure. Should I stop?”

“Nohohoohoohhohoho! Keehehehheheep gohoohohoohing! Mahahhahaybe it neehehehheds tihihiihime to kihihihihck ihiihih-IIHIHIN!” The detective all but squeaked when Watson pinched his lower ribs, his hands shooting down from behind his head to guard his torso. “Johohohohohoohn, dohoohoohohon’t!”

“Don’t what? If I recall, you weren’t even that ticklish here.” Watson mused, starting to smile. He let his other hand creep up Sherlock’s open side, walking up his ribs one bone at a time towards his armpit. “Or ticklish here? Maybe your medicine made it worse?”

“Perehehahhahhahahahps? Ihiihihihihihi nehehehehhehed to dohoohohoho mohohohore reeheehehshehehehharch! Aheahhahahhaahaha!” Sherlock squirmed to and from on the couch, batting at the hands. His cheeks were bright red now, his hair growing messier by the minute. “Geahhahahaha, ohoohoohkay! Ohoohohohkay, Wahahahhahatson, stahahhahap ihihiiihhit!”

“Already? But shouldn’t we check all the usual spots first? You never know- the medicine might have numbed a few.” It was absolute bull, what Watson was saying. Really, he was just starting to have fun. Sherlock could be quite the disaster when he wanted to be, driving him and poor Miss Hudson into his antics. It was nice to finally get some much needed revenge.

“Gohoohohohohohd pohohohoohint! Prohohohohoohcehehehheheed!” Sherlock nodded, arching with a cackle when Watson’s hands dug into his armpits. “AHEHAHHA I TAHHHKE IT BAHAHAHCK! I TAHHAHHAKE IT BACK GEHEHHET OHOHOHOOOHOHUT!”

“Hmm…nope, that’s still the same.” Watson dropped his hands down, grabbing Sherlock’s waist. The brunette all but shrieked, nearly jumping off the couch in his hysteria. “That’s the same too. Actually, I think your waist got worse, Sherlock!”

“WHHAHAHHAHAHTSON PELAHHAHHHAHAHSE!” The detective squealed, practically hugging himself to protect his tickle spots. No matter how tightly he pressed his arms in, Watson found a way past his defenses. “MOHOOHOHOVE SOHOOHOHMEWHERE EHEHHHEHLSE!”

“Okay okay…how about here?” Watson grabbed his hip, nearly getting a fist to the eye from Sherlock’s wild squirms. “Okay, definitely still ticklish. Here?” He squeezed his thigh, giggling some at the snorts he earned. “Yep, that’s still normal.” He even dared to tickle his feet, running a single finger down Sherlock’s sole.

“JOHOHOHOOAHAHHHHAAHAN!” Sherlock’s voice cracked from how bad it tickled, eyes wet with mirthful tears and voice fading in and out.

“Yep, you’re still ticklish everywhere.” Watson laughed, finally pulling his hands back. “Looks like your new medicine was a bit of a bust, ol’ chap.”

“Eheh…eheheh…heheh….” Sherlock groaned weakly, body limp with exhaustion against the couch. His hair fell in his face, matted with sweat and blocked his vision. Watson reached out to move it away when Sherlock proved too tired to do so. “Shahame…and heheere I thoohhought I did sohohomething…”

“Perhaps you should count yourself lucky you didn’t die from it?” Watson offered, earning a light pinch to the arm. “If anything, I think it made you even more ticklish than before.” “Drahahats…that’s ihihit. I’m leahhahving medicine to ohohohothers.” Sherlock groaned, closing his eyes. “I…I need a moment. Mahahaybe several.” He was out moments later, soft snores puffing out his lips. Watson smiled before standing.

“Here I was thinking you were killing him.” Miss Hudson’s voice made him jump. Watson turned to find her leaning against the doorframe, a soft smile on her lips as she watched Sherlock sleep. “Can’t blame you if you were. I’d want to kill him too.”

“Did we disturb you? I apologize.” Watson began, stopping when she waved him off.

“It’s fine, truly.” She walked over to the desk, picking up the beaker. “He drank it too. Such an idiot.”

“Yes. Though I have a feeling you knew he would.” Watson walked over, a secret smile touching his lips when their eyes met. “Wine, Miss Hudson?”

“It looked similar enough.” She winked, tucking the glass in her skirts. “You really think I’d let him drink whatever that concoction was? He’s bad enough alive. Imagine what he’d be like dead?” She shuddered. “He’d haunt us for all eternity.”

“He certainly would.” Watson agreed, laughing. “Would you like to have some tea with me, Miss Hudson? I’m curious to know what other interference you’ve done for the sake of Sherlock.”

“But of course, John.” She nodded, turning to the door. “That would be lovely.”

Thanks for reading!