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“So, how exactly does this work?”
John stared agape at Sherlock. “What, you don’t know what a photobooth is?”
Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Of course I know what they are. I’ve just never had the desire to be in one before.” He tried shifting in the uncomfortable leather seat, but the booth was cramped, and it only served to move himself closer to John, who he was already practically on top of. John had to gulp before he could speak, and judging by Sherlock’s singular raised eyebrow, he was well aware of what their proximity was doing to him.
“W-Well.” John cleared his throat. “I’ll have to press some buttons on the screen here, and then we’ll just sit and pose for the photos.”
“How many pictures?”
“Uhh… like, four?”
Sherlock groaned, throwing his head back. “This is just a mini photoshoot! Why have you trapped me into doing this?”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic!” John whined dramatically, winding an arm around Sherlock’s waist, enough to keep him somewhat in place but not too much pressure that it was uncomfortable. And also because he just liked holding Sherlock sometimes. “It’s romantic, Sherlock! Every couple does it!”
“What’s so special about it?” Sherlock grumbled, but he stayed still long enough for John to lean forward and begin answering the prompts on the screen, even as his leg bounced repeatedly. “We take photos on our phones all the time. My camera roll is filled with photos of you and vice versa. Taking those pictures and viewing them are much more convenient than going through all this.”
John rolled his eyes. Leave it up to Sherlock to only focus on the practicality of couple photos. “I don’t know what to tell you, Sherls! Photobooth pictures are a timeless classic date thing. It’s just – I dunno, cute to have some sort of physical copy! Something I can stick to my mirror to look at when I’m getting ready and think, ‘aw, look how cute we are’.”
“Again, you already say that when you look at pictures taken on our phones,” Sherlock said. John flushed because, dammit, he was right. As always. “But I suppose I do understand the sentimental value in physical photographs. When does it start taking photos?”
“In about…” John selected the last of the questions on how the photostrips would look. “Five seconds. Okay, quick, smile!”
Sherlock, for some reason, immediately took that as his queue to stand, peering back and forth between the camera and the screen with their faces, a timer ticking down.
“So there’s a timer? Interesting–”
“Sherlock, sit down–!” John tugged on his boyfriend’s sleeve, trying to drag him back down.
“Why is the timer only five seconds? Surely that’s not enough–”
“Sherl– oh, gotta smile–!”
Click!
“Did it just take the picture?”
“Yes, now if you would just pose–”
“This booth isn’t very spacious to pose properly–”
“Sherls, I love you, but please sit–”
Click!
Okay, this wasn’t working. Sherlock was still clearly energised from their date, and being in this tiny cramped booth was making him restless. He needed to figure out how to keep Sherlock still, and preferably within the next five seconds. So, with his impulsive nature kicking in, John did the first thing he thought of that did just that.
John turned to the side and pressed his lips to Sherlock’s cheek.
Click!
John leaned back, his lips echoing a slight smack, trying to eye Sherlock’s face. Sure enough, Sherlock had stayed still for that photo, but now he was still seemingly frozen, staring unblinkingly at John with an expression he couldn’t quite place. Oh god, he hoped he hadn’t caught him too off guard. While they had kissed a few (many) times, their relationship was still relatively new, and both were still toeing the line of what was considered acceptable for them to do. They found out pretty early on that Sherlock quite liked to bury his face in John’s neck, planting featherlight kisses whenever he could get close to the man (which John, obviously, also enjoyed, even if on most nights it only distracted John from making their dinner), and that Sherlock also liked to receive similar affections on the cheek. But how did he feel about these displays suddenly sprung on him in public? Was it technically even public, with a curtain and a tiny booth separating them from the outside? Christ, he should probably ask if that was okay, shouldn’t he?
“Was that–”
Sherlock interrupted John’s question with an answer, by placing his hands on either side of his face and seizing forward to kiss him fully on the lips. As Sherlock’s actions caught up to him, John laughed into the kiss, before returning it just as enthusiastically.
Click!
Sherlock took his time to break their connection, but eventually leaned back, still lingering close enough for their breaths to intertwine.
“John Watson, you sneaky devil,” Sherlock whispered, as if speaking any louder would break their bubble. “Did you lure me in here just to kiss me?”
Honestly, he hadn’t been banking on it, but he wouldn’t complain about the outcome now – not with Sherlock’s handsome grin and dark brown eyes alight and searching John’s face like he was a new mystery to solve. John felt himself flush under his intense gaze.
“Perhaps,” he said instead, leaning forward to plant one last peck on Sherlock’s smiling lips. “C’mon, let’s see how those photos turned out.”
The answer was: half of it not that good, other half very good. The first photo had John smiling just in the nick of time, but with Sherlock’s face completely out of shot and only his torso in the frame. The second was simply a blur of motion as John had just managed to drag Sherlock back down, John’s face barely visible as Sherlock landed half on the seat, half on his lap. The third, of course, was what made John giggle, as his surprise kiss had caused Sherlock’s eyes to go comically wide and cheeks to darken beautifully. The fourth was definitely his favourite, with the two of them finally on the same page (or same photostrip, rather), sharing a sweet kiss.
Sherlock had his chin propped up on John’s shoulder, arms loosely around his waist as he looked down at the photos. “Do most couples end up kissing in these?”
John snorted. “Oh, you have no idea.”
“...Do most of them also have half their body in the shot–”
“Nope, that’s just you.” John emphasised his point with an exaggerated peck to Sherlock’s forehead. “Here.”
John handed Sherlock one of the two photostrips, while placing his own into his wallet for temporary safekeeping. Sherlock untangled himself and John immediately missed the warmth.
“Where do I put this?” he asked, tracing the last two photos with a careful finger.
John shrugged. “Anywhere you like. Some people keep it in their wallets. Others just put it where they’ll easily see it.”
Sherlock hummed. Then, pulling out his phone, which had finally been given a clear phone case after many of John’s concerns, he slipped it into its back.
“There.” Sherlock held up the phone to John, and he was vaguely reminded of an animal crossing villager proudly holding up a new item. “See, I can indulge in your hopeless romanticism! Can we do something else now?”
John rolled his eyes fondly, but hooked his arm through Sherlock’s and led him through the arcade, ideas of where he would put his own photostrip floating around in his mind.
“I cannot believe we wasted our money on that movie!” Sherlock was still lamenting their somewhat-spoiled cinema date even as they entered 221B. John only called it that because any date with Sherlock was a date memorable enough for him in his books - but Christ, it really was a shit movie.
“You’re the one who wanted to watch it,” John said with a snort, bending down slightly to give Archie a quick pet.
“And that’s why you should never let me pick the movie again,” Sherlock called over his shoulder as he entered John’s room. Because Sherlock still liked his own space and bedroom sometimes, it wasn’t every night that the two slept in the same room together. But when Sherlock was feeling up to it, he would sleep in John’s bed, or John would sleep with Sherlock in his. Judging by the way Sherlock was still rambling about the movie while chucking various accessories onto the bed – his ear defenders, his scarf, his jacket – John deduced he was up for sleeping with him tonight.
“You’re right. I should properly sit you down and make you watch Frozen one day,” John was saying as he followed after Sherlock, who had paused in front of his mirror. “I know musicals aren’t really your thing, but c’mon, Frozen isn’t as bad as you think it–”
“That’s where you put it?” Sherlock interrupted, pointing to the corner of John’s mirror. John came up behind him and snorted when he realised what he was looking at: it was, of course, the second half of their photo strip of them sharing kisses, along with the barely visible cut-outs of Sherlock from the first half. He had been torn between putting the photostrip on his keys or putting it on his mirror, before ultimately deciding to do both - one half on his keys as a vague reminder of that day, and his favourite half (of the photostrip and of himself) on the mirror for him to look at every morning and night.
“Yep,” John said, hooking his chin over Sherlock’s shoulder. “God, I was right. Don’t we look so cute?”
“We do, but I don’t!” Sherlock pointed to the cut-outs. “You can only see my torso in this one!”
“A very cute torso.” John squeezed Sherlock’s waist in emphasis, laughing as he squeaked in surprise.
“You are absolutely ridiculous,” Sherlock muttered, but still tilted his head back to give John a kiss, one that he happily returned – mirroring the same love in the photograph right across from them.