Author's Note: This story is going to have chapters at least ten pages long, maybe longer. So be prepared to read... a lot. Enjoy! R&R Please!

Seething Remedy

1: Something different

It had been a year now since John and Mary had the hugest fight over why John wanted to spend more time with Sherlock than with her. He didn't how to explain his attraction to the man, he just loved him. He loved the chase, the feeling of achievement. Mary couldn't give him that.

And then there was the fact that John had found out something about Mary that was completely unexpected. Sherlock had revealed that Mary was a trained assassin, and she didn't hate him for it, but she wished John hadn't found that she wasn't really who she said she was.

John was stuck in emotions for about six months before Sherlock slapped him back into reality where things like this happen all the time. He had complained that this was completely different and Sherlock had said that it was honestly John's own fault he chose her.

John still hated Sherlock for pointing that out, and while his affections for Mary will probably always stand, the ones he had for Sherlock had come back and hit him in the head with a huge slap to the face, saying, "Hey look, there's Sherlock! Remember you had a huge fucking crush on him?!"

John hated these feelings, but he masked them as he always had, yet somehow the Fall made them worse. He had mourned for two years, then found Mary and she pieced him back together, and then he left her.

Then all these cases came flooding back to the boys and they enjoyed them as they always did, but something was off. Sherlock was different somehow.

He still had snide remarks and he was still quiet sometimes and other times he threw a tantrum, but somehow there was something about him that made John's heart almost leap out of his mouth when Sherlock was around. There was something different about the detective that made him more… irresistible? John didn't know.

There was something different, though. John sat in his chair after a long day of work and ran through all the things that have happened since he moved back in with Sherlock and started solving cases again.

All the feelings he had that he would never admit, and the something that was different about Sherlock. That was when the curly haired man trudged up the stairs and flopped in his chair, that purple shirt making it look as if he had a little bit more muscle than before.

Probably did, though. He did after all, chase down and execute all of Jim's men. John caught himself staring and his eyes instantly went back to his own bare feet on the familiar carpet, "Boring?" meaning the case.

"Dreadfully," Sherlock sighed in complaint. John gave an 'Mm' as a response and just stared at his feet, wondering if Sherlock had noticed that he was staring earlier. Sherlock stripped his shoes and socks and lied on the couch.

John decided to distract himself with his laptop that was beside him, charging. Well, not anymore, the battery was full now, but he updated his blog anyway. basically complaining that Sherlock was bored again.

Sherlock sighed and rolled over in the ball he curled up into when he was bored or brooding. John gave up on the distraction, and sat by Sherlock on the couch, "Sherlock," he started and the detective gave a humming response, "There's something… um." He wanted to say it, but he didn't know if he should.

He stared at the curls and wished he could feel how soft they would be. He scanned Sherlock's whole body as he sat up, "John, unless you have something important to say, do shut up," John's legs were crossed as he knitted his fingers together and put them to his knee.

He tapped his thumbs together and pursed his lips in thought, should he? Would Sherlock push it off and ignore it? Or would he respond? John didn't know, as he looked to the man raising his eyebrows at him to say that he should hurry if he was to say something.

"Never mind," he sat back on the couch as his fingers spread across the cushion to steady himself. He sighed, "Just forget it," he always did.

"No, you were about to say something and by the looks of it, it was important, at least to you. Say it," he demanded. John was nervous now. He couldn't, he was going to, but now he couldn't. he couldn't admit the he loved Sherlock more than anyone and anything.

"I-It's nothing," he stuttered. Sherlock eyed him and decided that was good enough.

"If you say so," he shrugged. He pushed John's legs apart and placed his head in John's lap. This didn't help John's case. But he hid all of his feelings as Sherlock sighed and looked him in the eye. "Boring, isn't it?"

"Not particularly," John admitted, smiling sweetly at the man with his head in his lap. John had so many things running through his mind right now, he had to fight the urge to make Sherlock sit up so he could kiss those taunting lips.

"You're interesting, John," he admitted as his feet settled on the other arm of the couch. Sherlock is so tall.

"Am I? I always thought I was a normal bloke," he shrugged.

Sherlock sat up and sat on his knees, "Oh, no. You're so much more. You're John Watson, the best Army doctor that I…" whoa! Was just about to admit some things that were not needed, "That I could trust with my life without a second thought." He said instead of what he was about to say.

John smiled, there's that different thing again. Something off… but John was thinking he knew now. He didn't want to get his hopes up, though. So he just passed it off as something being weird that he'll never figure out.

Sherlock settled again and his curls were so touchable, just right there. But John resisted, he would not embarrass himself by stroking his flatmate's curls. He would just sit there and let Sherlock use him as a pillow until he was ready to move or until John demanded he move.

Sherlock sighed and rolled over so that he was facing John's abdomen. John's heartbeat was definitely about to make his chest explode. He kept his arms spread over the back of the couch, so he didn't touch Sherlock. But God, did he want to.

He wanted to stroke those cheeks and he wanted to run his finer through that hair, and he wanted so badly to kiss those lips that were curling into a smug smile. "What are you smiling at?" John asked.

"You," his voice vibrated into John's leg and it felt weird, but he didn't move. "The thoughts going through your head that you can't control. It's funny," he admitted.

He looked up to John with a sideways glance, "This isn't normal for flatmates or best friends to do, you know," John admitted.

"That's boring. It's just cuddling, it's not like we actually like each other," oh, don't they? Keep telling yourselves that.

"Guess not," he chuckled, trying to hide his nerves. But Sherlock could see his pulse jumping through his wrist and he decided to say it was just because John was being weird again. It had nothing to do with Sherlock, right?

He finally rose, "I'm going to get a shower and sleep."

"Leave me some hot water, git," John warned. Sherlock grinned, winking and making that clicking noise he does sometimes when he's being a real arse. John rolled his eyes.

after a few seconds, he saw Sherlock's head pop out from behind the door, "Why don't you just join me, then?" he propositioned. John sat wide eyed as Sherlock said, "If you really want hot water, you'll do it," he teased. Sherlock decided he was so bored he would admit some feelings...

John slowly stood, and walking to the bathroom, "I won't look if you don't," he promised. "And nothing happens, got it?" he pointed a finger at the naked Sherlock now in front of him. He'd seen Sherlock's ass before, but not all of him naked at once. It was weird for him.

"Who said anything about not looking?" Sherlock grinned. "But I won't if you don't want me to," he shrugged and jumped in the shower first, turning on the water. John closed the door and stripped. Tonight was going to make this so much harder.

Sherlock will be naked in front of him and he can't do anything about it. He climbed in after his friend, and turned around so that Sherlock couldn't see a thing. "This is awkward," he admitted.

"It wouldn't be if you had said what you wanted to earlier," Sherlock pointed out, turning so that he could see John naked behind him. He had his arms crossed over his chest and he was embarrassed. "John," he prodded.

"I won't, I can't, it's not…"

"John," Sherlock teased and ran a finger down his spine, making him shiver, despite the warm water. "Haven't you noticed the odd feeling between us? I have, and it pains me to not say a thing about them. So I decided to, especially after deducting some things about you," he chuckled.

"Yes, I've noticed your weird actions here and there, but I didn't want to say anything because I thought…" he turned to face his friend, "I thought you didn't return the feeling. You know, the whole sentiment being a chemical defect and everything."

"That was before I knew you," he shrugged and the smile had faded to the same bored face he always held. He looked over John's state, aroused slightly but hiding it. He turned around again and was engulfed in the warm water as he reached for the soap, washing himself.

"I love you," he heard John stutter. He felt him step closer and wrap his arms around Sherlock's waist, "I always have, even when you fell. Happy now?"

"Slightly more so, yes," he admitted, handing John his soap. John sighed and they washed themselves as the hot water started to fade. John jumped out first, grabbing the towel before Sherlock could. He stood, dripping wet, pouting that John had the towel first.

John chuckled at the idiot and threw him the stupid towel as he walked out to go get his pajamas. Sherlock decided he would be nice, despite John's teasing, and picked up the clothes and dropped them in the hamper in the bathroom. He finished drying his raging raven curls and dropped the towel in too.

He then proceeded to his room and simply slipped on his night wear, or what he wore when he was too lazy to change. John like the way the blue looked on Sherlock. He looked good in dark colors, especially black and that purple he loved to wear.

John was tired so he didn't even bother with bugging Sherlock, he just went to bed. He was glad he didn't have work in the morning, but he knew Sherlock would drag him on some case. But he was happy his life wasn't terribly boring, as it was before Sherlock came into it.

Sherlock didn't go to his room. Instead he marched up the stairs to John's and plopped down on the bed beside his friend. "I'm sleeping here tonight," he rolled over and curled into a ball as he felt the covers being pulled over him.

"Okay," and then John's arms welcomed him and he kissed John's forearm. John was too tired to protest, but Sherlock's warmth was easily welcomed as he fell asleep. Sherlock eventually followed in slumber.

But that didn't last all night as john had planned it to. He started having a nightmare and woke up around midnight, screaming Sherlock's name, and he woke up in a hurry, bringing his soldier back to the covers with an embrace, "John, it's okay. It was just a dream, just a dream," Sherlock's voice calmed the shaking mess of almost tears.

No, he wouldn't cry in front of Sherlock. He controlled himself as Sherlock had been dealing with John's returning nightmares for some time now. They had been haunting him ever since the Fall. John knew Sherlock was safe, but he still doubted his friend's ability to stay.

"John, how many times must I tell you, I'm not leaving again, ever?" he soothed and John just shivered and calmed himself.

"I just…" he buried his face in Sherlock's chest, embarrassed that he had another nightmare, again. Sherlock didn't mind, he just wanted John to stop them and get some sleep at some point.

"It's okay, I wouldn't trust me, either," he joked. He stroked John's blond hair, it's getting longer. He hasn't cut it, despite his shaving every day. Maybe he just doesn't want to cut it yet. John sighed and his breathing slowed, saying he was asleep again.

Sherlock calmed and he fell asleep again as well. The second wave of sleep lasted until 9:00 that morning and they felt actually refreshed, instead of feeling as though they needed more sleep.

John didn't want to get up, so Sherlock just left him there in his warm covers. But as the sun shone on him, they were too hot and he gave up, walking out to a pot of coffee. He thanked Sherlock for it and Sherlock just shrugged as the sun was shining through the kitchen window above the sink.

"Skip the jumper today, John," he said through his coffee mug, "It's a little too warm for it," he admitted. John shrugged.

"Who said anything about me ever getting dressed?" he grumbled.

"Lestrade did, with a case. This one seems more interesting, too. But we still have time for breakfast if you want to eat," he gestured.

"Oh no, you're eating, too. We're going down to Angelo's and I'm shoving food in your mouth and you're eating," he waggled his finger at Sherlock. "Sherlock, it's been a day, and this case may take a long while. You need to take a break," John complained.

"Fine. I'll eat with you, but then that's it. I don't want to slow myself down anymore than that," John rolled his eyes at the smirking man across from him. They finished their coffee and walked down to Angelo's.

But on the way there, "I mean it, Sherlock, if you don't eat, I'll shove it down your gullet," Sherlock pouted.

"Eating is boring," he stated simply. John rolled his eyes and looked away across the street at a few kids on skateboards. Then he felt Sherlock take his hand. His eyes widened as he looked over to the man who was looking away at the buildings passing by them slowly.

He was blushing, just enough to say it wasn't the summer sun. John grinned as people stared and some were even fangirling over the friends. Couple? Oh, it doesn't matter, they love each other and that's good enough for John.

It was good enough for Sherlock as well when their hands fell apart and they entered their favorite restaurant. Angelo greeted them and John asked for a table and Angelo showed them to one as he went off and returned with a candle, as he always did.

He still wanted to believe that Sherlock and John were together. Were they? They didn't know, it just happened. Whatever happens next, happens. It was whatever. John looked over the familiar menu and so did Sherlock, for once.

He made his decision and plopped down the menu. John did as well and when they ordered, they realized how different their tastes in food was. "I hope you know, that if you ate all the time, you'd be extremely fat," John commented.

"Why do you think I don't eat all the time. Food like that slows me down. But you insisted that I eat," John shrugged and Sherlock grinned briefly. That was when Sherlock propped his feet up on John's knees and leaned back in his chair, observing his blond's reaction.

He simply sat there and stared at Sherlock with a small smile playing in his annoyance at the fact that Sherlock was using him as a footstool. Sherlock removed his feet when Angelo came back with their food and Sherlock ate all of it before John could finish his.

He simply stared at the blond, licking the grease from his fingers seductively. John finished and raised an eyebrow, staring back as they left a few notes on the table and walked out, "So, about this case," John was the one to take Sherlock's hand this time.

Sherlock laced their fingers together as he said, "It's actually at a park that has a little forest behind it. We can walk there if you wish," Sherlock suggested.

"Sound lovely."

"I know, the idea of a murder in the flowers and running through the woods after a killer, it's Christmas!" he shuddered in excitement as John just laughed.

"That's not what I was referring to, but okay. Sure, let's go with that. A murder in the flowers sounds just lovely," they both laughed. The people staring thought it was a little strange that they were talking about murder and how lovely it sounds, but they didn't even pay attention to the people around them.

They did reach he park, though and they stopped holding hands and just walked behind the flowers to find Lestrade and, ugh, Anderson and Donavan. Sherlock ignored their existence as he studied the body under him.

"This woman was clearly intoxicated," he said as he studied the bite marks on her neck, "And she was with her… companion, when someone attacked her, and she bled out. But that's the only mark on her?" he didn't even have to get an answer as he walked around the woman and deduced that she had bled from her neck. But who would bite someone and drain them like that?

Did he dare believe that there was a vampire on the loose? No, but someone was trying to make it look like such. Maybe trying to prove that Sherlock wasn't as great a detective as he was. Nonetheless, he'll find out. Although the one mistake they did make was taking some of her things.

Like the ring she had been wearing. She was engaged recently. Her boyfriend… no, her girlfriend! Interesting. "I'll text you if I find anything. For now, this woman was wearing a silver engagement ring that her girlfriend had given to her and she was headed home, so that begs the question, where's the fiancée?"

Before Sherlock asked and then walked off, thinking about this, "We actually found those in a bush over there," he pointed. Sherlock nodded, adding that. So they wanted to make it look as if they were sloppy. But why?

He grabbed a cab and John slid in beside him, not saying a thing, knowing Sherlock was thinking and it would irritate him. He did nothing and said nothing except their address and Sherlock settled in the seat next to him.

John loved the way those jeans looked on Sherlock. He hadn't seen him wear them since the few days after they had met and they had seemed to disappear. And the black flannel made him look sexy with the way his pale skin lit it up.

He had one more button undone than usual and John buttoned it as Sherlock didn't say a thing. John never thought he'd be buttoning up Sherlock's shirt. He always… never mind. Point is, Sherlock looked yummy in that and John just looked normal.

His jeans and plaid flannel made him look normal, but Sherlock thought that way John's trousers outlined him was sexy. Especially with the way John walks, it makes the soldier side of him more lovable. The way he walked had stuck because he never fixed the way his hands swayed at his sides, he was so used to marching. It was cute, though. Cute? Ugh...

Sherlock didn't think it was a bad thing, he just thought it was different. The way Sherlock walked was torturous, though. He swayed his hips more than any other man John had seen. Sure, he'd seen the women do that, but the way Sherlock did it was different, yet so much more attractive.

John had never been attracted to men, he'd been around every kind of man there was, and Sherlock was the only one that seemed to be attractive to him. Maybe he had a detective kink he didn't know about? He didn't know, all he knew was that Sherlock was amazing in every sense of the word and he loved that.

Maybe Sherlock should tell John his sexuality, but he thought it might ruin the relationship right now. Relationship? Is that what this was? Well, they live together and they slept together, and they flirt like there's no tomorrow. Were they a couple?

It didn't matter. He had a case to think about and he could tell things to John later. For now, he had a fake vamp to hunt down. This was going to be fun.

John and Sherlock's cab stopped outside their flat and John threw a few notes as they stepped out. Sherlock swung the door open dramatically and ran up the stairs and flopped down on the couch, pushing his head over the arm as the other creaked in irritation from his now bare feet pushing on it.

John closed the door behind himself and made Sherlock move his feet so he could sit. "Why don't you just sit in your chair?" he complained.

"Because you won't join me in my chair," he said simply as Sherlock sighed and his feet landed in John's lap as he asked, "Mind if I watch telly?"

"Whatever," Sherlock waved his hand about in dismissal as John plucked the remote from the coffee table and flipped on the TV. The hand holding the remote landed on the arm of the couch as the other went Sherlock's ankle, where he made circles around it.

At first, he was sure Sherlock would complain, but he didn't. He just ignored everything around him and studied the woman's body again and again in his mind palace. The telly only played crap, but John enjoyed being with Sherlock, so he pretended to watch it but really his thoughts were on the detective using him as a stool again.

The pad of his forefinger became numb as he just kept stroking Sherlock's ankle and Sherlock couldn't ignore it anymore. Besides, he had solved the case anyway. Well, as much as he could for now before Lestrade could give him more information.

He cuddled into John and sighed as John finally put his fingers through those soft curls. Sherlock moaned a little as John just played with his hair. "Solved it already?"

"Not completely, still need more information, but as much as I can possibly right now. Which makes me bored again," he complained.

"Sherlock, it's only been two hours, they won't have more until tomorrow," he chuckled as Sherlock just grunted as he slid into John's lap completely, straddling his thighs.

He looked down on his blond and smiled, "I love you," he said, pressing their noses together.

"Prove it," John smirked. Sherlock grinned as he pressed their foreheads together. Sherlock would love to prove it, but he felt a vibration in his pocket and then his ring tone. They both heaved disappointed sighs as Sherlock pulled the contraption out of his pocket.

He answered, "Yes?"

"Sherlock," he was surprised, "Is John there?" Mary asked.

"Yeah, here," he handed the phone to John.

"You could have called me instead," John pointed out.

"Well, I just wanted to tell you that I'm um… I'm preggers," she laughed nervously, "But I need to tell Sherlock something as well, it's why I called him."

John just handed the phone back to Sherlock, shocked that Mary was so calm about that and that she wanted to tell him. Plus, he knew it was his child, and he instantly felt guilty. Sherlock just looked confused as Mary spouted off things that had to do with their case.

Sherlock slipped off of John and walked to the kitchen, "How do I even begin to believe you?" Sherlock asked, surprised that she was even saying these things.

She sounded as if she was about to cry, "Because I did it. And I knew her fiancée, and let me tell you, she won't be found. She left to America. But, Sherlock. You have to believe me when I say you do not want to get involved in this," and now she was sobbing quietly.

"And if I do?" Sherlock protested.

She stopped enough to say, "Then nothing but pain will come your way. And that isn't a threat," she continued softly, "My elders wouldn't like having you hunting them again," and she hung up. Again?

Sherlock was just awed by what he had heard that woman's voice tell him. He wanted to believe that she was telling the truth, but how could she have been? Especially with what she said being so impossible. Was she trying to protect someone she knew by pretending she did it?

Sherlock dove deep into his mind palace, and his head hung as he searched. John caught him in the kitchen doing this, his phone about to drop from his hand, and John took and slid it in his pocket, not saying a thing as he heard humming and disapproval coming from his friend.

He wished he knew what was going on in that head, but he sadly knew nothing. He didn't even know what Mary had told him. He knew what Mary had told John, and that shocked him enough, but he was sure that what was said after John wasn't on the phone must've been worse than being pregnant.

But how much worse? What was Sherlock digging for? Then his head popped up and he rushed to slip his socks and shoes back on. John was confused as he did the same, about to follow Sherlock out the door. He did when Sherlock walked a few blocks and stopped where there was a man begging.

He slipped the beggar some cash and talked quietly to him about something. John didn't know what it was, but apparently it was something surprising, because the man just nodded as he disappeared into an alley.

"Homeless network?" John asked simply.

Sherlock nodded, "Need to find out some things. Might help the case," and he finally relaxed, grabbing John's hand in his own, "Do you want to just go for a walk? I'm bored and there's nothing else to do. We could go to the park?"

John nodded as they walked to the park and sat on one of the benches there. Sherlock spread out as if they were at home, on the couch and his head landed in John's lap as he let the sun consume his figure. Gladly, he never burned.

He tanned sometimes, but never burned, and he was glad for that. John obviously tanned more than anything, so he didn't have to worry about it. They just sat there, letting people stare and a few even tweeted and blogged about 'Holmes and Watson sitting on a park bench, like a couple!'

Sherlock ignored all of them while John rolled his eyes at them. "Why is two men in a relationship so much more exciting than if someone else was in a relationship?" Sherlock complained.

John was shocked that he was calling this a relationship, but he shrugged and ran his fingers through Sherlock's curls as he said, "Maybe it's because people were thinking it for so long and now they have proof."

"That's stupid," Sherlock pointed out, "What we are is none of their business," he also said.

"Well, that's just how people are, Sherlock. They never keep their noses to themselves," he glared at a girl who was just about to snap a picture, she scuttled along when her boyfriend took her by the arm, waving nervously at John and Sherlock.

John shook his head and focused on Sherlock again. The flowers were at least nice, and there wasn't a dead woman in them. God, their lives were so messed up, and yet they didn't care. Did that make them messed up as well? Possibly.

Did it matter? Not really…

There's not much to say except that Mary will probably be a big part of the story, even though she and John broke up. So, reviews? I'll be updating every Sunday... :)