This was something I wrote a while ago and I thought I'd post it now as a sort of apology for my other stories having not been updated in a while. The next chapters are still coming!
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this and let me know what you think :)
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. They belong to BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
"Please, Sherlock?" asked John, for what felt like the hundredth time.
"No, John," replied Sherlock, sighing exasperatedly.
For the past few days this was basically how their conversations went. Mycroft was generously letting John and Sherlock stay in one of the many houses that the Holmes family owned. It was a small cottage in the country, not far from London. John wanted to get away for the week, have a break from work and cases but there was one problem, Sherlock didn't want to go.
John had tried to convince Sherlock to go on many occasions in the days leading up until when John was leaving but Sherlock always said no. He claimed that if he was bored while at home in the middle of London, he'd be far more bored out in the country, just him and John.
"John, your car is here!" came Mrs Hudson's call from downstairs; Mycroft had been kind enough to loan John a car for the week.
"Last chance, Sherlock," said John, hoping that Sherlock was just being childish and would change his mind. He did want to go away on holiday, he wanted a break, but it wasn't from Sherlock.
"Bye, John," said Sherlock, from his place on the couch, raising his head slightly. He watched John as he sighed and walked out the door.
Sherlock had been hoping that John would change his mind and stay but apparently that wasn't going to happen. Sherlock had almost agreed many times to join John on holiday but he had always said no instead. Sherlock knew that this coming week was going to be long and boring, but he'd survived without John before, before they had met, and he wanted to prove he could do it again.
XoXoX
It had been just over twenty four hours and John was already bored out of his mind. He had arrived at the cottage, which had belonged to Sherlock's grandfather, yesterday afternoon. He had already been into the nearby town, where he got groceries and had a look around. He'd then returned to the cottage where he ate dinner in front of the TV, which only got one channel. He'd then grown bored and went to bed early, thankful he didn't have to race off after Sherlock who was trying to catch a killer. The next morning he had then proceeded to read one and a half books, got bored of that and decided to watch TV but switched that off soon after, growing even more bored and he was already contemplating returning home. Maybe a holiday alone wasn't such a good idea, he thought.
Back in London Sherlock wasn't doing much better. He'd already completed three different experiments and solved 5 old cold cases from Lestrade. The DI refused to give him any more, probably because either John or Mycroft or both had told him not to. So now Sherlock was even more bored than usual, especially with John not being there with him. He wished he had gone with John and that thought decided it for him, he missed John and was going to go to his grandfather's cottage and spend the rest of the week on holiday with him.
John was just about to go into the bedroom to pack his things, having decided that he was going to go home when there was a knock at the door. John, curious as to who would be visiting him here, made his way to the front door. Out the window he saw a black car that looked suspiciously like one of Mycroft's. He quickly opened the door, afraid that something might've happened to Sherlock. Why else would Mycroft be here, thought John.
To say John was shocked would be an understatement, he definitely hadn't expected the world's only consulting detective to appear on his doorstep.
"Sherlock?" asked John, as if he wasn't sure it was really him.
It seemed weird to John that they had only been apart for a day and yet he only now realized just how much he had missed the man that stood before him, although, he wouldn't tell Sherlock that.
"John," answered Sherlock, in both a response to John's question and as a greeting to John, a small smile playing on his lips.
"Sherlock, what are you doing here?" asked John, his brain finally realizing that it was in fact Sherlock standing in front of him.
"I…" missed you, thought Sherlock, but instead he said, "grew too bored at home and decided to come here instead, maybe a break would be good." Sherlock just hoped John believed the lie.
John nodded, knowing he had grown bored too and was glad for the company now.
John returned Sherlock's smile that had returned to his lips after seeing John nod and reached over to grab Sherlock's bag. Sherlock noticed John eyeing the car outside as it drove away and he told him how Mycroft had gotten a driver to drive Sherlock out to the cottage. Mycroft had wanted Sherlock to go on holiday too and if all it took was letting him borrow one of his cars and a driver for a day, Mycroft would happily oblige.
"You were thinking of coming home," says Sherlock, as he's closing the door behind him.
"How did you…never mind, I don't want to know how you knew that. I was considering it, I was bored. But you're here now-" Sherlock cut him off.
"So we can be bored together you mean?" asked Sherlock, smirking as he took his bag off John and walked past him heading for the bedroom.
He stopped at the door, remembering something rather important that he hadn't considered before, there was only one bedroom. Well, more specifically, there was only one bed. He looked at John who had joined him at the doorway to the room where his belongings were already unpacked, realizing the same thing that Sherlock just had.
"We'll worry about it later, come on, we'll go have a look around the town before it gets dark," said John, as he grabbed Sherlock's suit case and placed it on the floor in the room.
"How about we have dinner at the pub in town?" asked Sherlock.
John was mildly surprised by this question partly because the man before him hardly ever ate and it was John's job to remind him to and partly because, the way Sherlock had asked it, it had sounded like a date. But then again this was Sherlock he was talking about and he would never do something as boring as ask someone out on a date. Once the astonishment had passed, Sherlock never ceased to surprise John, John nodded his head in reply, of course he'd have dinner with his best friend.
They grabbed their coats and left, Sherlock driving the car that John had used for the journey to the cottage. It was only a short ride into the nearest town but they were both glad that they were going to be spending the next week, just the two of them, relaxing together.
After arriving in town and wandering around the shops for an hour or so, they decided they were hungry enough (well, John did) to have dinner.
The pub was pretty busy and the pair found a seat near the back and ordered food, Sherlock actually eating for once. A few of the other people in the pub were giving them looks. Two guys in the back of a pub having dinner together, it was no surprise what they thought of the couple but John and Sherlock just ignored the looks and few whispered comments. They spent several hours just sitting, talking, eating and drinking. Their conversations ranged from Sherlock's experiments to his deductions, to John's work at the surgery, to what they had done in their day apart, to their plans for the next few days. And when they weren't talking, they were just sitting there quietly, enjoying the comfortable silence and each other's company.
By the time they left John had had a little too much to drink and was light headed; Sherlock hadn't been drinking because one of them had to drive home. Now came the awkward part, where they were going to sleep.
"I'll take the couch," said John, heading off to the room to grab his things.
"Don't be ridiculous John, the couch is far too small to sleep on," replied Sherlock.
"Where am I supposed to sleep then?" asked John, rather confused now and the alcohol wasn't helping. Although, he wasn't drunk, he was just in a happy mood but that wasn't entirely because of the alcohol.
"We'll just have to share the bed, it's big enough for the both of us and I can see no other option."
Sherlock, always the logical one, thought John.
"Don't worry, I'm not that much longer than the couch, I'll just curl up a bit," said John.
"No, you'll get a sore back, we'll share the bed and that's final."
The look on Sherlock's face told him not to argue.
"Fine," agreed John, knowing that Sherlock wasn't going to take no for an answer.
"Good."
Half an hour later they were both in their pyjamas and after having a cup of tea, they were ready for bed.
John climbed into bed awkwardly as Sherlock was already lying down. John lay as far away as he could on the other side of the bed from Sherlock. It wasn't long before he had moved into a more comfortable position on the bed, now with his body fully on the bed, not half off as it was before. He was finally relaxing, he didn't know why he'd been so worried about sharing a bed with Sherlock. They were just two best friends who, for lack of other options, had to share a bed.
XoXoX
John woke the next morning feeling warmth down his side. He opened his eyes and realized what it was with a shock, he was cuddled up next to Sherlock. Him! John Watson! Cuddling Sherlock Holmes! John was half lying on Sherlock, his arm flung over Sherlock's stomach, his head resting on Sherlock's shoulder while Sherlock had his arm around John's back, holding him close.
As carefully as he could, trying not to wake the sleeping man beside him, he slowly extracted himself from Sherlock's grip and rolled over, getting out of bed. John didn't know this but Sherlock hadn't actually been asleep. He had managed to get a few hours sleep that night, which was an impressive amount for the detective, and had actually been awake for the past hour, just enjoying the warmth and comfort of having John so close to him.
John grabbed his dressing gown and made his way to the kitchen to make breakfast. Sherlock joined him half an hour later, John handing him a cup of tea. Neither mentioned the cuddling incident from that morning.
Over the next few days Sherlock and John did anything they could think of to keep the boredom away. They read books, played games, went back into town to look at shops again and had lunch at the pub. Sherlock even thought up and conducted some experiments which John helped with but nothing compared to the thrill of the chase and they were growing bored quickly, even if the rest was good for them.
On the fourth day of their holiday they both grew bored again, Sherlock more than John. It was then that they decided to cut their trip short and were going to head home early the next morning.
They spent their last evening on the couch again watching TV and as it got late, John could feel his eyes growing heavy. They had stayed up late the previous night working on an experiment that Sherlock had conducted using the limited materials he found around the cottage. So now John was tired and he felt his head fall and land on Sherlock's shoulder who was sitting next to him on the couch. John didn't even have the energy to move his head as unconsciousness consumed him.
The next morning, John felt the same warmth he had the first morning in bed but this time it was down his back. He tried to move but realized something was stopping him. Opening his eyes, memories from the previous night came rushing back to him. The last thing John remembered was watching TV so he must have fallen asleep on the couch. He had a vague memory of leaning against Sherlock and now he was lying in bed with Sherlock pressed firmly against his back. Sherlock must've somehow managed to carry him to the bedroom which John found rather embarrassing. Sherlock had his arms wrapped tightly around John and he could feel the detective's chest rise and fall with each breath he took. John could feel a tingling on the back of his neck where warm air blew each time Sherlock exhaled.
This time there was no way John could get out of Sherlock's hold without waking him.
"Sherlock," he whispered, "are you awake?"
"Mmmm," came a mumbled reply in John's ear.
"Sherlock," he said again, more loudly this time, "wake up."
"Yeah, morning John," came the detective's sleepy reply.
John felt Sherlock's arms loosen around him and he turned slightly to look at Sherlock. He saw Sherlock was smiling and so smiled in return.
"Morning," John replied.
For some reason waking up like this, with Sherlock's arms around him, wasn't the least bit uncomfortable. He knew that he was blushing so he quickly got up and went and made both him and Sherlock a cup of tea.
A few hours later and they were packed and on their way home. They dropped Mycroft's car off on the way back to the flat and caught a cab the rest of the way. By the time they reached the flat, John could see there was something wrong with Sherlock and he was afraid he had overstepped the boundaries of their relationship, especially after sharing a bed for most of the week.
"Sherlock, what's wrong?" asked John, as they made their way to the door after grabbing their bags and John had paid the cabbie.
"Nothing," replied Sherlock, but John could tell that there was definitely something on his mind.
"Sherlock, I know something's wrong so tell me," he said, grabbing Sherlock's arm to stop him going inside.
"I-, it doesn't matter," replied Sherlock, missing yet another opportunity to just tell John how he felt. The time they'd just spent away together should've told Sherlock how John felt about him in return but it only scared Sherlock more. He didn't want to tell John how he felt in case John didn't feel the same way. Sherlock didn't want to ruin his friendship with John. Even if they just spent the rest of their lives being friends, John would at least be in his life and that's all Sherlock wanted.
Looking into Sherlock's eyes as he'd said "it doesn't matter", John knew that something was definitely wrong and it certainly did matter. But John didn't want to push Sherlock so he let it pass.
They both made their way inside, glad to be home. John eyed two new bullet holes in the wall which Sherlock had neglected to mention but he decided not to comment, just shook his head as he made his way to the kitchen to make them both a cup of tea.
A few weeks passed and John could tell whatever it was was still on Sherlock's mind. He'd just sit for hours, thinking about whatever the problem was. John had asked several more times what was wrong but Sherlock always said it was nothing and went back to thinking again. It was even starting to distract him from his work. Twice he'd missed something on a case which John had to point out. Lestrade had even mentioned that something seemed wrong but John couldn't figure out what it was.
About a month after that John figured out what it was, it was him. Sherlock had obviously figured out his feelings for him and now Sherlock had spent the last month and a half trying to figure out how to tell John he wasn't interested.
John hated that he'd caused Sherlock so much distraction, knowing how invested in his work Sherlock was. He thought about it for a while and decided the best thing to do was to talk to Sherlock. John had been at work when he'd made this discovery so upon returning to the flat he made Sherlock and himself a cup of tea and sat down opposite him.
"Sherlock," he said, and when Sherlock looked up at him he continued, "I have absolutely no feelings other than friendship for you so you can stop thinking about what to do about it and get back to your work."
John was satisfied with his words and got up, leaving Sherlock starring at the seat John had just vacated. If John had've seen the look of absolute heartbreak in Sherlock's eyes he would've instantly taken back the lie he just told. John was of course in love with Sherlock but he didn't want to be a distraction from Sherlock's work when Sherlock obviously didn't feel the same way.
Sherlock retreated back to his mind palace and felt like the world was falling apart around him. For the last month and a half he'd been analyzing everything John said and did in order to figure out if John had feelings for him. He thought he'd figured it out, he'd thought that his feelings were reciprocated but he was obviously wrong. Sherlock had been planning on telling John tomorrow night how he felt. He'd even organized dinner at Angelo's to make the evening more special, something he thought John would like.
Now Sherlock was left feeling hollow and broken inside and wishing he'd never let John into his heart to begin with.
Thoughts? and thanks for reading.
There's going to be a second chapter which is already written and I'll post it in the next few days.