This is my twentieth fanfic. OMG. Wow. This is insane. I thought I was going to get to five and then get bored! Well I guess now is the time to thank my beautiful editors: AD and KL as well as my brother who listens to my constant rants. Also to you amazing people who have subscribed and favourited and reviewed! You make my day!
This is an established JohnLock fic where our favourite couple has some pillow talk about names. This didn't turn out quite as well as I thought, but at the same time, not too bad considering the fact that the idea came to me in the middle of the night.
Anyway, I'm pretty sure you're aware that I don't own Sherlock but I have to say it anyway.
I was watching Sherlock sleep. It sounds creepy, but really it isn't. Sherlock Holmes sleeping is one of the rarest things in the world. I take privilege in being one of two people who have seen him asleep (the other being his mother). His mouth was slightly parted, and the steady breathing, calmed me immensely.
He had never talked in his sleep before. But now he was mumbling quiet things that I couldn't understand. And then one word escaped from his lips: John. It was almost too soft that I didn't hear it, but I caught it none the less. I blinked, surprised. What could Sherlock be dreaming about?
A stray curl of his dark brown hair fell onto his face and I gently pushed it away. A hand quickly snatched mine to keep it where it was. I jumped but then calmed when I realized it was Sherlock. His eyes slowly opened to look into mine. I leaned forward and kissed him softly on the mouth.
- "I'm sorry, did I wake you?" I asked calmly. Sherlock groaned and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, like a little toddler.
- "Yes, thank you very much. But if you're going to wake me up, at least make it worth my time." he said before grabbing the back of my head and placing his lips on mine. I was all too happy to oblige. I laced my fingers into his hair and pulled him closer towards me. Our mouths opened and our tongues fought for dominance. I moaned against him mouth. When we pulled back for air, Sherlock began kissing down my neck. I grasped the opportunity.
- "So what were you dreaming of, just now?" I asked, through heavy breaths.
- "Why do you ask?" mumbled Sherlock against my throat.
- "Well you said my name." he pulled back, and got that curious, interested look he always got when he was trying to remember something.
- "Oh yes." he said sitting up completely. The bed sheet slipped so that his naked chest was exposed and my breath hitched a bit. "I was dreaming about you." said Sherlock and I smiled. "Well your name precisely." That got me confused.
- "My name?"
- "Yes. I find it fascinating."
- "Fascinating?"
- "Yes. How do parents decide on names for their children, that ultimately work so well?" Sherlock said, a look of pure interest on his face. "How did you end up John, and how did my brother end up as Mycroft? And what of the name Sherlock?"
- "Well I think Mycroft was called Mycroft because that name is annoying as hell." Sherlock laughed lightly. "You ended up as Sherlock because that name is unique and special. And your unique and special. And I was named John because my parents were too lazy to come up with a more creative name." Sherlock turned to me frowning.
- "I wouldn't say that. John means God is gracious."
- "And how does that relate to me?" I asked.
- "Well God is gracious through you in many ways. He brought you to your parents, he helped you through the war..." here Sherlock paused as if unsure to continue. "And... well he brought you to me, through good ol' Stamford." I looked into Sherlock's eyes which were boring into mine. I was swept in a wave of emotions and had to avert my gaze in case I began to cry. I actually did in the end. Sherlock took me in his arms and kissed my tears away.
- "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." he quoted softly into my ear. I laughed a bit.
- "Shakespeare, impressive. I wasn't sure you knew who that was." I joked. Sherlock snorted, his head buried in my hair. I turned to look at him.
- "Thank you Sherlock."
- "For what?" he mumbled.
- "All my life, I felt like a normal, boring person. Nobody pays attention to a John. They're boring. People would just pass me by. But then I met you and you made me feel special, like I was worth a damn. And you made me believe it too. You are amazing Sherlock. You might want to reconsider your title of sociopath, because the man that I know and fall more in love with every day, has a heart." I finished and looked at Sherlock, waiting for him to say something. But instead he leaned forward and he kissed me with so much passion that it hurt. And I was completely okay with that.