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"John. I need to test something." Sherlock stated quietly.
It was about 9pm, Mrs. Hudson had just told them she was getting an early night and to keep the noise down. They both knew she still thought they were dating, but they obviously weren't.
John had acted in his usual flustered way, insisting that they weren't like that, so he'd missed the light that flicked on in Sherlock's eyes.
So now, 57 seconds later, Sherlock had formed an experiment.
His theory was based as follows.
John. This perfectly ordinary, casual, normal man had caught Sherlocks' attention since the day he stepped into Sherlock's lab at Barts. There was nothing special about him, nothing to divert his attention in any way, nothing he could tell, and yet the invalided army doctor had been in every second thought since that day.
Being a self confessed Sociopath, Sherlock had just assumed this was normal behaviour, having never really got close to a person before. Anyone he'd decided was at least tolerable in their thoughts and mind to stay in his flat with him had left within a week or so.
But John. Even though he still asked questions, he didn't get where Sherlock got his conclusions until they were layed out simple enough for a toddler, and even though they still had arguments over tedious things like the solar system, Sherlock couldn't understand why he hadn't turned John away. Why he hadn't himself insisted John leave. He was the same as the others that he'd tried to share rent with, except this time John hadn't run. Hadn't given up. Hadn't decided he was too much work.
As far as Sherlock could tell, that just meant they could be good friends. They got on each other's nerves, but they hadn't given up yet.
Mrs. Hudson had been trying to get Sherlock into a relationship with someone for a while, claiming he needed someone like that in his life. As far as he was concerned, he had Mrs. Hudson to make sure he didn't die of starvation or dehydration, and to make sure he was okay every now and then, without the annoying intimacy and need to be together. He'd tried it, a while ago, with a man called James. Or Jim. He couldn't remember.
It was back at College. James (it had to be that, surely…) had been on the same intellectual level as him, and they got on well, joking around and being able to deduct people together. The change of accent was sweet to Sherlock's ears, having only had Mycrofts' posh voice around him for years.
James had suggested they try out as boyfriends. Sherlock, being bored and in need of new things to do, had agreed.
It was okay for a while. They managed to co-operate as a couple, and people knew about them, and it was fine. But James was too…clingy. He insisted they be together at least 5 times a week, was always having contact with him when they were together, and in the end Sherlock broke it off. The intimacy was too much. So was how masochistic James was…
He hadn't seen James since, but that wasn't really a problem.
So he knew how relationships sort of worked. He'd been a bit awkward about it back then, and still didn't really know what to do, or when.
But John…
He'd tried to stop whatever was happening to his thoughts. John was his flatmate, he was an army doctor, he wasn't like that. He'd probably disapprove. That conversation at the café on their first night, it had been awkward. Sherlock made it clear he didn't want a relationship, but was that even what John had been suggesting?
It had been about a month since then, and every day Sherlock had been fascinated by a different aspect of Doctor Watson. For a while he was interested in how far Johns patience would be able to stretch, then it moved to his clothes, favourite shirts (Window checked), make of jeans (Levi), how many buttons on the shirts (6, usually), if he ever had his buttons undone (only the collar button. He was far too modest, unlike Sherlock himself), and so on. Of course, then the jumpers. He couldn't help but be fascinated by the jumpers. It seemed he favoured the beige cable knit jumper that he'd worn on their first meeting outside 221B Baker Street. That was a good thing really, because Sherlock found he liked that jumper as well. He wasn't quite sure why. It seemed like the sort of thing that didn't really look good on anyone, but John managed. That, and the black and white striped jumper that was thin cotton, thin enough to be worn as a tee without a shirt beneath. The wide collar and design gave John the impression of being about 12 years old, and Sherlock couldn't hide a smirk every time he saw him in it, but it was of affection, not rudeness. And he wouldn't have that jumper any other way.
Today, Sherlock had discovered an…infatuation…with Johns' silhouette. The way he sat in the chair, even after he'd returned to England, still held a somewhat military look about it. He wasn't the tallest of men, so the armchair dwarfed him slightly, but Sherlock didn't mind. His concentrating face was the best thing about when he was reading. Usually it was the newspaper, in case Sherlock had missed something that John might find important, like who was with who – not that Sherlock would even acknowledge that anyway – or some such boring thing. Johns' almost childish haircut and button-like nose added to the young quality he possessed. His lips pursed slightly when he was thinking, and this was what interested Sherlock most. He didn't know why. Those lips looked so soft.
But then it got back to the first point. John probably wasn't like that.
Lestrade had noticed Sherlock's fascination a week or so ago at the Yard. John had gone to ask Sally something about the case because Sherlock had been petulant and refused to go over there himself. As he left, Sherlock found himself staring after him, just in awe of how this ordinary man had caught his interest.
He had heard a low chuckling behind him and spun, blushing slightly at being caught at anything. Lestrade raised an eyebrow.
"Wow. He's got you good." Lestrade commented knowingly.
"Got me how? Who?" Sherlock turned to see John look up and catch his eye. John smiled, smirking more than smiling, and Sherlock realised he was blushing already, and did so slightly more.
"Yea. Thought so." Lestrade commented as Sherlock turned round, looking at the floor.
"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked cautiously.
"You're infatuated. You love him." Lestrade had stated casually.
"No I don't. I don't." Sherlock folded his arms, uncaring how childish he'd looked, it was just one of those days.
"I'm surprised if he's not worked it out yet. You solve mysteries and murders at the click of a finger, but you cannot solve the enigma that is Sherlock Holmes' fascination with Doctor Watson." Lestrade smiled. "Well, a clue. Tell him."
Sherlock was about to answer when John stepped behind him, close behind him.
"Tell me what?" John asked, and Sherlock could hear the smile.
"Nothing." Sherlock had stepped forward, away from the heat radiating from his … friend.
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"John. I need to test something." Sherlock stated quietly.
"What?" John looked up and over at Sherlock.
"Can you stand up?" The World's Only Consulting Detective [Yes, he capitalised it even to himself] looked a little bit embarrassed at his question, and John couldn't help but be curious.
"Sure…" He stood up slowly. "Now what?"
Sherlock licked his lips nervously and stood up, and looked at John across the room. He took a deep breath and stepped on and over the coffee table to be right in front of John.
"Please. Don't move." Sherlock murmured.
John frowned, having to look up slightly at Sherlock. "Okay. Why?"
Sherlock tried to calm his breathing as he reached forward, gently catching the side of John's face in his hand as he moved to catch John's lips in his.
He was right, John's lips were soft. His face was warm and fitted perfectly in his palm. It took a few seconds to realise what he was even doing, then Sherlock stepped back suddenly, breathing bordering on extreme, fear levels rising as he bit his lip.
"I'm sorry." He looked at the floor. "I don't know what…" He closed his eyes. It was a stupid idea, he shouldn't have tried it out. He should have just stopped himself, surely it wasn't that difficult.
"Sherlock."
Sherlock looked up slowly, and saw John stepping forward.
Without pausing, John placed a hand on Sherlock's chest, pushing him back into the
wall before looping an arm round his neck and gently pulling Sherlock down, crashing their lips together.
Sherlock let himself go slack, the shock of John's actions taking a few seconds to sink in so that he could respond.
Hesitantly, unsure of what to do, he moved his arms slowly around the shorter mans torso, jumping slightly as John's own knotted into his hair, the other resting on his lower back.
Sherlock let his lips move against Johns, accidentally moaning slightly, closing his eyes as he got a receiving moan, equally quiet.
Before long, both had completely run out of air. They parted softly, and Johns' hands dropped to rest casually on Sherlock's waist as he rested his head on Sherlock's chest, hearing his heart beating wildly.
Sherlock couldn't help but notice how well they seemed to fit together against each other as he leant against the wall and allowed John to relax against him.
"I thought you'd leave." Sherlock murmured, resting his head on John's.
"You're an idiot." John muttered, chuckling. "I've known for a while now and been waiting for you to do something about it. I was beginning to think you wouldn't." John's thumbs gently rubbed circles on Sherlock's hips.
"Sorry." Sherlock smiled into John's hair, his whole body feeling like electricity was coursing through it. Being this close to John was better than any high. "I just didn't know what to do."
"It's okay. I didn't want to rush."
Sherlock nodded, then chuckled slightly.
"What?" John leant back enough to look up at Sherlock, smiling slightly.
"My most difficult case yet." Sherlock paused. "The Enigma of Sherlock Holmes' fascination with Doctor Watson. I do believe I almost solved it."
John grinned. "Glad to know I'm more of a challenge than your average case."
"Of course." Sherlock smirked. Then his expression turned worried again. "So…now we've established this…" Sherlock tightened his hold around John's torso to emphasise his point. "…What now?"
John frowned. "I'm not sure." He paused. "Should we talk over a cuppa?"
Sherlock nodded, smiling. Tea. John's ultimate answer to everything. "Okay." He let John go, ignoring the voice in his head calling John back, and allowed him to go and start the kettle and pull out two mugs.
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A/N: This was supposed to be a one-shot, but I quite like it. Any thoughts?Right. I can't really get online at the moment, sadly. This is in school right now for Gods sake, in my break time. So…I won't get to update often, but you can bet that when I update, I really update. So sorry for stories not being updated, I lost my USB stick too, and I had like an 8 page update for 'How It All Began' and a beginning for 'Unexpected Adventure' but now I've had this big old problem.
Please review, including what stories you want me to have a go at updating. I'm working on 'Drugs Bust' (Jason Layton? Cheers for always reviewing for me! I'm trying to chuck out a new chapter, just for you! *Pauses* Yea. That sounded stalkerish. Sorry.), 'Unexpected Adventure' – Yea. Sorry Rhi! I've been busy. Thanks for your update btw, me kissing Watson? I was flailing…in school. – 'How It all Began', and my new story, 'My Own Minutiae'.
Love you all!
Lydistar.