The steaming whistle of the kettle buzzed threw 221b like a vibration breaking the silence which had fell between John and Sherlock for two days now. Being without a case for four days has left Sherlock an agitated mess. He lays outstretched like a restless cat on the flats sofa, a tangle of long limbs, crazed black ringlets and blue silk dressing gown. Sherlock gaze is transfixed to the ceiling above with a look that John likes to describe as 'stroppy Sherlock.'
John settles into his arm chair after rescuing the whistling kettle and making himself tea. He didn't even bother offering Sherlock coffee as he was perfectly aware that his response would simply be obnoxious and rude. John has long by now learnt that during Sherlock's 'stroppy' stages it was simply best to leave him be. However this faze has seemed to have lasted well over two days and if John had to be honest he was actually rather missing the perfect acoustic tones of Sherlock's voice… Even if he knew any response would be drenched in sarcasm and harsh bluntness. John sighed internally and settled back into his chair with an outstretched newspaper annoyed with himself that he simply can't think of anything else but Sherlock. Let alone actually concentrates on the newspaper in his hands. Sherlock's voice, eyes, cheekbones, neck… John just sits there containing the battle between his feelings for Sherlock and logic behind the whole situation in his thoughts. He didn't know when or how his feelings for Sherlock started… but he was incredibly aware that they are always there, overpowering almost every other thought in his brain. There is was simply, John liked Sherlock… John loves Sherlock? The over powering whirl wind of confusion that are John's feeling were abruptly interrupted by the vibrating buzz of John's phone on the coffee table. Intrigued and surprised John lunged for his phone wondering who on earth was texting him.
'Coffee, black, two sugars. In future ask.–SH'
John's brow frowns in a frustrated fashion. He darts a similar look to Sherlock who's still sprawled on the sofa. "Sherlock, you are sat less than a foot away from me, was it really necessary to text that?" Johns rather light hearted amused tone broke the silence that had fallen once again. There was of course no response, not even a twitch from Sherlock, John simply rolled his eyes and went back to the paper in his hand.
*BUZZ buzz* John sighs and his fingers slide open his phone to read the text.
'Less than a foot? Really john? As a well-educated doctor I would have thought you would have at least known the correct distance of a foot and the fact that we are far beyond that.- SH'
John tries to contain the smiles that wants to overtake is lips. He shouldn't be so amused by Sherlock being so stuck up and yet he was, and he is, he always is because it's the finest example of why he loves Sherlock. Because there simply isn't anyone else out there as damn rude and self-centred as Sherlock himself… But rude a self-centred in a way that makes John long to embrace his purely amazing angular body with all the love and lust that pulses threw his blood. Regardless of the repetitive scream in John head that tries to reinsure him he's not gay… Even if all his other feelings contradicts this very fact.
"This coming for the man who, yes, can tell a person's job by their finger nails, but can't tell you that the Earth goes round the Sun. I just.. I.. well… Anyway, regardless of whether we are or are not over a foot away from each other the fact still remains we are within perfects speaking distances so I repeat myself. Is the texting really necessary?"
*Buzz buzz*
'I prefer to text.- SH'
"No Sherlock, speak." Johns tone is slowly losing the hint of amusement.
*buzz buzz*
'Speaking is dull.-SH'
John lets out a sigh that fills the clammy air around him, he pinches the bridge of his nose and shuts is eyes in an action of annoyance and frustration. "Sherlock no…I mean… No. I refuse to answer you until you physically speak to me." John sets his phone down on the coffee table in front of him just out of reach to reinforce the meaning behind what he just said. He continues to once again relax back into this arm chair and pretend to read the paper. When really he's just fix sating on the many feeling he has for Sherlock whizzing around his head. Which in fact is only causes his affection to grow fonder.
*Buzz buzz*
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*Buzz Buzz*
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*Buzz buzz*
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*Buzz buzz*
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*Buzz buzz*
…
In sudden swift movement of twisting limbs, noises of angered mutters and breathy sighs Sherlock emerges into the sitting position of a 'normal' human being. "Oh John don't be so childish and ignore me." Sherlock's voice mimics the anger and fury in his eyes.
"Childish! Childish! Oh Sherlock I sure hope you're kidding me, YOU and calling ME childish, the person who two days ago got so angry at a game of Cluedo that you pinned it to the wall with a knife and refused to speak to me for two days. Only to then break the silence by calling ME the childish one?"
Sherlock's eyes flicker over to the wall which did indeed display a knife pinned Cluedo board. The left hand side of his mouth curls in a wicked fashion forming an oh so famous Sherlock smirk.
"I think you'll find john you're the one who got angry at the game of Cluedo because you didn't like my adaptations to the rules. It's hardly my fault if you still feel the need to question my actions. You make it perfectly aware that you know I am brilliant and amazing and yet you seem to still ignore the fact that my actions are always genius."
John roles his eye as his shoulder and head slump in unison as an obvious symbol that he's perfectly aware that there is just no reasoning with Sherlock. " You just… I mean…. Sherlock, you…*haaaaaaa*" a sudden giggling chuckle broke through whatever sentence John as trying to compose. The unexpected continuous laughing coming from John left Sherlock in a state of surprise. His sharp piercing stare shot at John with an expression that screams 'I demand you to stop laughing at me' with a quickening frown spreading across his lips.
In amused endless laughing a few quick breathily words escape from johns mouth " Only you Sherlock…*HAHA*…I mean…*HAHA*… who calls themselves brilliant…*HAHA*… an amazing…*HAHA*…oh Sherlock…*HAHA*…This is just why I love you…*HAHA*… you're so." Both John's words and laughter grind to a sudden halt letting the air of 221b once again be filled with a tense silence. John's expression drops into a scared gawp at the realisation of the words that had just slipped his mouth.
"You… You love me?" Sherlock's face becomes blank and emotionless. Simply staring powerfully toward john. This is possibly the first time John has ever heard the oh so great Sherlock Holmes stumble over his words. That fact drew and incredible unsettling pit of fear inside john stomach. He stumbled, what does that mean? Fear, humiliation and worry flooded threw every inch of John's body. John lifted his eye line to meet Sherlock's stare. They sat there like that, deeply and intensely staring into each other eyes for what could have only have been a few minutes. But the burning wonder behind the stare left it feeling like a lifetime. The connection was only broken by john dropping his head into the palms of his hands in fear and shame.
John could hear the soft cat like foot prints walking towards him. The elegant shift of body weight from foot to foot as the distance between him and Sherlock decreased. In one soft swift movement Sherlock was there crouching in front of John who's head still remained in his hands hovering not far above his knees in a curled up shield of perfection from the shame and embarrassment he felt. Sherlock's long violin playing fingers stretch out and gather just under John's jaw. The touch felt both soothing and electric. Sherlock hand guided Johns head up to the normal position to be met by the soft caring look of Sherlock's eyes, a look that John is pretty sure he's never witnessed before. Their faces hovering only a matter of inches away from each other's.
Before any words could escape either men's mouth John felt the soft caressing feel of Sherlock's lips on his own. Sherlock's lips press with only the slightest presser into Johns, a pressure unsure but welcoming. John melted into the kiss after a few seconds of being taken by surprise. The kiss was how john had always imagined. It was perfectly representative of Sherlock, the pressure, the angle, the position all being altered ever so slightly as the kiss developed. John could tell Sherlock was testing and deducing their kiss as it happened… Of course he was he's Sherlock. This thought left John's lips curling up into a grin against Sherlock's. Perfect… Sherlock...Perfect… The only two words left in John's vocabulary as the moment over takes John's mind and the kiss draws ever so slightly deeper.