A/N: This is a bunch of one shots of how my favorite ships got together. Please let me know whether or not you like it (this is my first proper fic). This hasn't been brit-picked or beta-d, so please excused the typos.
"I'm not gay!" John protested. And suddenly, he questioned that.
He was telling yet another waiter that he and Sherlock were not, in fact, gay partners. John had encountered many people who assumed that Sherlock was his boyfriend, and John often found himself loudly countering that suggestion.
But recently, John had been questioning the absolute truth of that statement. He knew he wasn't 100% gay – he loved women and everything about them – but he had to admit that there was something strangely alluring about his aloof flatmate.
"Sherlock, why do people always think I'm gay?" John turned to look at his friend, who was, as usual, not paying attention to his companion.
Sherlock looked away from the couple sitting three tables down. "A variety of reasons. Would you like me to list them all?"
John sighed. He couldn't tell whether Sherlock was deliberately trying to be insulting or if it was just an accident. "No, just why that guy thinks I am."
"Because we are two obviously unattached males going out alone together, and because we act as though we have been together for an extended period of time. Thus they make the obvious and logical assumption that we are a couple and therefore, that you are gay." Sherlock returned his attention to the couple, trying to deduce exactly how many times the man had cheated on his wife.
"What do you mean, logical assumption? I'm not gay!"
As Sherlock opened his mouth to reply – no doubt with something insulting – his phone buzzed. It was a text from Lestrade, apparently spelling out a new case. "This one's a ten, John! We must go immediately!" Sherlock paused only to through some money on the table and to wait for John to get his coat on before striding out of the restaurant.
-interruption in the flow of the story yay-
Three days later, John finally had some time to stop and think. He was happily making himself a cuppa – glad that the case was successfully over without either of them being injured – when Sherlock walked into the kitchen dressed in only a thin sheet. John couldn't help but stare. He wanted to tear that sheet off and. . . . We it didn't matter what he wanted, because first of all, Sherlock was married to his work, and second of all, John still thought he probably wasn't really all that interested in shagging blokes. John hadn't thought about his sexuality – God, he sounded like a teenage girl looking for attention – since the case began, but now that the case was solved, the question lingered in his mind: could he be bi, or whatever it was called?
"Sherlock, put on some bloody clothing. Mrs. Hudson could walk in!" John had to try very hard to keep from blushing. This was even worse than a normal crush – even though it definitely wasn't a crush, not at all – because Sherlock could practically read his mind just by looking at him.
Fortunately for John, Sherlock seemed engrossed in a book about bees and was paying no attention to his friend. "Mrs. Hudson is at her sister's until next Friday."
"Yeah, well, put on something anyway. Just pants if you want. Anything!" After Sherlock made it clear that he was under no circumstances going to put on clothing, John rushed off, completely forgetting about his tea. He didn't trust his body or his mind to not embarrass him more than he probably already had.
He needed . . . a cold shower or something. How could he fancy Sherlock, the human icicle? And more importantly (in John's mind) a man? An attractive man, with those eyes and those cheekbones and those think lips just asking to be kissed . . . John shook himself. That was no way to think about a friend, especially a friend who showed, if it were possible, negative interest in being his boyfriend. That was creepy and it felt almost predatory. John never wanted to hurt Sherlock. Despite himself, he loved the awkward, occasionally rude man – in a completely platonic, nonsexual, I-definitely-don't-want-to-shag-him kind of way.
There was a knock at his bedroom door. "Come in."
"You forgot to finish making yourself tea." Sherlock held out the steaming cup to John.
"Erm. . . . Thank you." John was surprised by Sherlock's kindness (although he had been more considerate lately) and he licked his lips as he tried to figure out Sherlock's intentions.
Sherlock stared distractedly at John's lips for a second, and then awkwardly walked away, as though he didn't know how to react to John's gratitude. John couldn't help but notice that the sheet gave him a rather fine view of Sherlock's ass . . . better not think about that now. . . .
-interruption in the flow of the story yay-
"John! Get me my phone!"
John groaned. Sherlock was so demanding. But what could John do but help the brilliant man? "Where is it?"
"Next to my sulfuric acid in the kitchen!"
Of course Sherlock would make John get it, even though he was much closer to his phone. John was in his bedroom, for God's sake, and Sherlock was experimenting in the kitchen.
"Okay, coming!" John walked to the kitchen slowly in the hopes of aggravating Sherlock. No such luck for John. Sherlock was absorbed in his experiment on appeared to be human fingernails. John sighed when he saw that Sherlock's phone was literally within his reach. "Here," he said as he handed the phone to him angrily.
"By the way, I know you're bi." Sherlock made this comment like he was discussing the weather, but John panicked. Did Sherlock know he fancied his asexual flatmate? Was Sherlock going to embarrass him, or even worse, kick him out?
"If you wanted to keep such things secret, I advise deleting your internet history. Did you really expect to Google 'How to tell if you are gay' and not have me find out about it? Really, John. Don't act surprised."
Relief flooded John. Sherlock didn't know about his crush. Sherlock was ok with a bi flatmate. "Er, yeah. I suppose so."
Sherlock seemed to be waiting for something else, but then he sighed and said, "When I told you I was married to my work, I meant it. I would not say the same now. I have . . ." Sherlock trailed off, which was quite unusual. Normally he could out-talk nearly anyone.
"What are you trying to say?" John tried desperately to quash the hop that he could feel rising up from the pit of his stomach.
Sherlock paused before replying. "We should attempt a relationship. You are obviously attracted to me, and I find myself equally attracted to you." John's jaw dropped. This was the last sentence he had expected to hear. "In addition, I feel an emotional attachment to you that could only be classified as 'love,' whereas you must feel at least some emotional attachment because your reaction to my faked suicide was extremely and convincingly emotional -"
"Sherlock, stop it. Don't make me think about . . . about any of that." John knew how amazing what Sherlock was proposing was, but whenever he thought about the day he saw Sherlock jump, he wanted to cry. He never wanted to be reminded of the three years where he lost Sherlock again.
"John. . . . I apologize. What do you think of my conclusion on our relationship?" Sherlock laid an awkward hand on John's shoulder, as if he was trying to comfort him, but didn't know how.
"Let me think about it."Sherlock looked hurt that John had not immediately agreed and returned to his experiment without replying. John knew that until he decided, Sherlock would pout, so he returned to his room, emotions churning.
He knew that he found Sherlock very attractive – only guilt had stopped him from wanking off about Sherlock. But was he really ready for a relationship with the detective? And more importantly, was Sherlock ready for a relationship with him? Sherlock was not a relationship type of man. He was the sort of person that you expected to die alone or possibly with a load of cats. But Sherlock was right (as usual), he felt an emotional attachment as well a physical attraction. The fake suicide . . . it had hurt him more than he cared to admit. And while John still wasn't exactly sure he wanted to date a man, he knew that it was important to answer quickly and that he definitely would date Sherlock. The more John thought about it, the more John made up his mind: if Sherlock was serious, John would at least attempt a relationship.
-interruption in the flow of the story yay-
"Sherlock?" John cautiously approached the sulking detective, who was curled up on the sofa like a large black kitten. "We should talk."
"We, or rather, you, are talking. Satisfied?"
John sighed. Of course Sherlock had to be contrary."I mean, we should have a conversation." John licked his lips nervously.
"We are having one."
"I mean a proper conversation. About . . . what you mentioned earlier." As John had suspected, this got Sherlock's attention instantly. He uncurled a bit and looked at John.
"Have you made up your mind?" Sherlock's icy green eyes stared accusingly at John, although he was not exactly sure what he was being accused of.
"Er . . . yes. And I think we should have a go at a relationship. But –"
"Good. I'll call for takeout." Sherlock cut John off before he could reach the bit that John really wanted to talk about.
John pursed his lips in annoyance. "I wasn't done." John waited for Sherlock to dismiss him or interrupt up or do something else to annoy him, but Sherlock stopped in his tracks and waited for John to finish. "Think you. We should only be a relationship if you are actually serious about it. If this is a . . . joke, or an experiment, tell me now and . . . Well, just tell me. If it turns out that you lied about something this important, I don't think I would ever forgive you. So just tell, are you serious?"
"I am serious." Sherlock looked at John solemnly. "Please believe me." Sherlock walked over to John until he was standing right in front of him, invading his personal space. "I would not lie about this to you."
"Tell me though, why? Why do you like me?"
"Because you make me a better person, and I'd be lost without you. And you constantly surprise me-"
Then John surprised both of them – and it is quite a feat to truly surprise Sherlock – by closing the relatively small gap between their mouths. He smiled into the kiss when he felt Sherlock gasp into his lips in surprise. Slowly, Sherlock relaxed into the kiss, opening his mouth to let John's tongue in as he grabbed at John's hideous jumper.
Thank you for reading! Next up is Mormor, and after that Mystrade. And maybe after Irene/Molly if I think I wrote it well enough or if my lovely readers want it. Review if you want me to do other ships, I'd be chuffed. Hugs and kisses!