"John!"
One yell. He's fine. He just needs something. Something most likely right next to him.
"John!"
Two now. He really wants that something. It is possibly further than a few inches from his grasp.
"John! Get in here!
Three yells. The kitchen is on fire and he is too busy or lazy to reach the fire extinguisher. God save us.
"I'm up!" John screamed with his face pressed against his pillow. He gave his pillow one last hug and turned to view the clock.
Four in the morning. Came in round... three? Three-thirty? Gives me a thirty minute rest. Now I'll be up the rest of the bleeding day. This better be important.
John stumbled down the staircase to the landing. He was in a daze after another miserable evening. An evening Sherlock somehow ruined. John was becoming more and more defensive about girls breaking up with him about Sherlock. Something about this last one though, really struck a chord.
"Have you been tested for the HIV? You know? Wiv you being all... you know? Wiv your flatmate." Yeah, she was a fine one. Sherlock saw her coming a mile away. Told me to stay away from her without explicitly saying 'stay away'. He just came up, insulted her right to her face about her economic status, her dress, her face, her intelligence. Well I just thought 'Why the nerve of Sherlock!" Instead he was saving me from another dating fiasco. Isn't he the cause though? If it weren't for him, well then why would she suspect I'd be AIDs ridden? Well then again... she'd still have that nasty accent, the teeth, the figure... Right he saved me, better not let him know.
John found himself in the middle of the living space, he had ended up there on auto-pilot. He stared at Sherlock. Uncertain that Sherlock even knew he had come down to see what he could possibly want at this hour.
"Pen" Sherlock said shortly.
"You have... Sherlock! I woke up out of a dead sleep! I half expected the entire flat to be up in flames. But you know what? You probably wouldn't have given me the decency to wake me up if it were. Instead you want your bleeding pen!"
"Yes, the one on the table, next to the sofa."
"Get your own damned pen!"
"Why? You're over there, just pick it up." John huffed and rolled his eyes. He walked over to the coffee table.
"No pen! No bleeding fucking pen on the fucking table."
"Language John. Oh, right. It's in my other hand. Well... Night then" Sherlock's gaze didn't leave his scope while John started fuming. He was about to explode and he tried to bring himself down and remain calm.
Think of the redeeming qualities of your flatmate. Think... think... His coat? Damnit! There are no redeeming qualities to the man!
"God damnit Sherlock! You ruin every chance I have with a girl! Are you sabotaging me on purpose? Is this how you get your kicks?"
"No, you appear to do a good job of sabotaging yourself." Sherlock's lip twitched into a quick grin.
"Every last girl is convinced we're in some sort of homosexual relationship. Now everyone just laughs when I say I'm not gay. Is this what you want? For me to just give up?"
"John, I'm saving you"
"What for yourself?"
"No! No. From marriage, children, they are utterly disappointing. I'm saving you." John looked at Sherlock incredulously.
"I want children!" John shouted.
"No. You want to procreate without creating anything."
"It isn't just sex Sherlock. I want a relationship. Someone to do things, non-sexual things, with."
"Isn't that what we do?" Sherlock looked up from his microscope and looked directly into John's eyes.
"No... yes... Well it isn't... We don't cuddle on the sofa and watch telly do we? God, not that I want to." John blushed.
"That sounds... awful. Who would want that?"
"I would! I do. With a female. Not my flatmate."
"Who said I would do... that thing... with you?"
"Cuddle Sherlock... you get close, hug each other, and stay like that."
"For how long?"
"I don't know... thirty minutes or something."
"Thirty minutes?"
"It isn't precise! I mean... it's just lovely." Sherlock grimaced at John's words. He turned to return his focus on the microscope, he twirled the pen in his hand and tapped it on the table. "Why am I even friends with you? You are the biggest cock-block... sherlock-block is what they should call it." Sherlock looked at John with a slight confusion in his eyes, his brows furrowed. "Cock-block, it's when you get in between your mate and his girl so they don't... have... sex..." John coughed into his hand.
"I don't do that" Sherlock sneered.
"Well not physically! You get in there psychologically and scare off every one of my potential girlfriends. I can't keep a girl for more than three dates now!"
"Two."
"What?"
"Statistically you have been averaging two dates. However with the recent trend we may be seeing the number declining"
"What, to absolute nil then? If that's your plan all along, you might as well stamp a label on my forehead that says 'Sherlock's John' because with you, I won't be seeing any action for quite some time." Sherlock grinned.
"You see plenty of action on our case work. Shouldn't that please you?" Sherlock knew what John meant and was being down right cruel.
"You know what? You're right. I just want a shag. I don't care at all, about these girls I've been trying to hook up with."
"Finally, we're getting somewhere." Sherlock laughed.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"John, you don't need these women." John took a step back, he was already a fair distance from Sherlock but he was becoming concerned with the way this conversation was turning.
"Sherlock... Are you... you know?" John stammered.
"Hm?" Sherlock looked completely innocent like he truly didn't understand what John was inferring. John gulped.
"Erm... like... gay..."
"Of course not!" John let out a huge sigh of relief. "Purely asexual, I'm not even a sexual relationship with myself. Don't be ridiculous John."
"Well... How come you don't like women then?"
"Why reproduce with genetic recombination when you already have the perfect genome? It would only result in a lesser being."
"Wait, so you'd clone yourself before you would have a kid... the normal way?"
"I would, yet ethics are still problematic. Plus I was quite a terror as a child. I couldn't imagine another me running about. Nope. I suppose it will just be me then." Sherlock chuckled. He was being playful. This was frightening for John. He was concerned once more.
"Yeah, but what about the woman?" John asked.
"What woman?"
"The Woman! You know the one you supposedly slept with."
"Oh, well that woman. Well she is none of your concern. She's dead remember." John opened his mouth to retaliate "John, would you like a cup of tea?"
"Um... yeah sure?" John looked at him questioning.
Since when does Sherlock make tea?
"Good, make me a cup while you're at it." John let out a sigh.
Right, he only makes tea for his mortal enemies.
John slunk into the kitchen, filled the kettle, plugged it in, and started to hunt down some tea. All that was left was some cheap traditional breakfast tea. John went for the fridge.
"Sherlock, Christ! What do you do with all the milk?"
"Blocks nonspecific antibody binding. Get more if there is none left."
"I'm not going out at this hour for a spot of milk."
"Good, just sugar in mine."
"You fix your own. I never do it right"
"Well! If you would purchase the sugar in cube form, perhaps I would have a consistent cup of tea. Then again, you would also have to let the water cool so it doesn't scald the tea leaves, remove the bag when it is properly infused, and perhaps more important, not buy that pre-packaged abomination they call tea."
"We can't afford loose leaf tea for daily drinking, nor would I like to go through the hassle of getting your tea right with that stuff, you're even more picky with it. If that's even possible"
"I am not picky."
"Yes. You are."
"If I were picky, I would refuse to drink the tea you mess up."
"You only drink the tea half the time any way! The rest you let set on the table until it goes cold and you don't want it any more."
"You most certainly don't get the tea right half of the time. I still drink your mistakes."
"You know Sherlock? You're a mistake. Why I ever decided to move in with a nutter like you?"
"You needed someone to share the rent."
"I just happened to choose a hybrid psycho-socio-path." Sherlock grinned at John's diagnoses.
"Well, I take it you're over your pursuit of a woman then?" Sherlock said suddenly.
"I'm not... For the ten millionth time... not gay."
"Never said you were. Just this pursuit of women is foolish and you expend way too much energy if you are looking for a simple... shag"
"What are you suggesting?" John was beyond concerned now.
"Give up." John let out a slow sigh. "Pursue me then." John coughed, he absolutely hacked. He knocked over a tea-cup and it crashed on to the floor. Shattering into tiny pieces. John held on to his chest, still coughing as he reached back for the dust pan. Sherlock snorted at John's reaction. He offered no help as John scrambled to catch his breath.
"What?" John asked, his face was red from lack of oxygen. He found the dust pan and broom and began picking up the pieces of glass. He positioned his backside to the counters so Sherlock couldn't get a good look.
I knew it! I knew it! He is just a predator. Lured me into the flat... waited five years... well he's a lazy and slow predator.
"You waste my time when you go on these endless hunts for a suitable girlfriend. Why not just do all those non-sexual things with me and then you won't have the urge to waste my time."
"Because! That's weird, it's awkward, and I don't want to! Not with a bloke." John threw the first bit in the bin and went for a second look. He had stepped on too many pieces of glass in the past few years, he knew the whole kitchen was a minefield. He was likely picking up glass from other accidents that Sherlock didn't feel like cleaning or telling John he broke something. Of course John nagged about Sherlock breaking things, they were usually John's things.
"Why not try it? Experiment with it. Then if you don't want to continue, we stop."
"What things are you proposing we do that we don't already? Hold hands?"
"That cuddling bit, kiss-"
"Hold up! No... nope. Too weird."
"It is completely non-sexual."
"It is foreplay, for sex. No."
"I don't do foreplay."
"I bet you don't, you just jump right in don't you? Done this a thousand times with twice as many blokes?" Sherlock looked down at the floor.
He is never embarrassed. I hurt his feelings! That's no good.
"I'm not saying you're some sort of slag." John stood up and place a hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "It is just weird to be intimate with your flatmate if you're not gay."
"How is it intimate if it is completely non-sexual?" Sherlock inquired. John turned away from Sherlock and turned off the kettle.
"Intimacy includes everything, the kissing, the hand holding, the cuddling, the... intercourse." John coughed once more. "Why would you want to kiss anyhow?"
"Never really tried it."
"Never? That's impossible. You must have-" John cut himself short when Sherlock returned his focus to the microscope. John was fed up, he pulled the slide off the stage and held it away from Sherlock. "We are having a serious conversation, I would appreciate-"
"No! Don't hold it like that the cover slip will slide off, it's-" the cover slip slowly slid down the slide, lost suction, and fell to the floor. Sherlock grabbed his head in his hands and groaned. "Wet mounted..." Sherlock finished. Sherlock breathed deep, removed his hands, and stood.
"I'm sorry, I thought... accidents happen." Sherlock retreated to his bedroom, his shoulders slumped, his head pointed at the ground. He fell on to his bed with a thud. John followed in after him. Sherlock had fallen face first on to the mattress and was smothering himself. His arms lay at his sides, he began groaning. "Listen, I'm real sorry, I didn't mean to ruin everything, we were just in the middle of an important talk." John reached out and patted Sherlock's back.
"Innocent people will have been shamelessly murdered because of you. No repercussions for the vicious killer." Sherlock turned his head and glared at John.
"Oops?" John shrugged his shoulders. Sherlock turned his head away to conceal his amusement.
"You don't care" Sherlock huffed.
"I thought caring doesn't stop bullets, or something of the like" John chuckled.
"You are a terrible flatmate, refusing to experiment with me."
"That is so disgusting! Maybe if you were a female... man you would make an ugly girl. I guess not even then." John laughed and leaned over to see if Sherlock was reacting the same to his joke. Sherlock was looking quite sad, distant. "You're supposed to be asexual?"
"You're supposed to be heterosexual" Sherlock sneered.
"Still not gay!"
"Keep telling yourself that, maybe it will come true" Sherlock pressed up on his hands and turned around to sit next to John. "Why not?" Sherlock looked directly into John's eyes searching for an answer. John began to scoot away uncomfortably.
"You're a bloke?" John questioned.
"That's not an issue"
"No, that's the issue."
"You said even if I were a women you would feel the same."
"No, I said you'd make an ugly woman. If you were you in a woman body with a woman face. I don't know. Maybe?" Sherlock let out a sigh.
"Maybe." The word felt disgusting coming out of his mouth. Sherlock threw himself against the pillows and curled up into a ball. He started kicking at John with his feet. "Leave, I'm done with you."
"No, we need to have this chat." John crossed his arms as Sherlock continued nudging him with his foot.
"There is apparently no chance you will give it a try. You are wasting my time. Again." Sherlock pulled his feet close and stopped nudging John.
"I hate when you get like this. You are unreasonable. You are the most logical person I know and when you are when one of your moods you become so... childish."
"Thanks, Mycroft" Sherlock huffed and started to shiver.
"Cold?" No response. Sherlock continued to shiver in silence. "Fine, I'll tuck you in. Not your boyfriend though." John grabbed the bottom of the comforter and tried to pull as much as he could over Sherlock who was laying on the top half. He barely covered Sherlock's feet.
Obviously, he won't move. Then he'll whine that he's still cold. Can't move him myself.
John looked to the other side of the bed
Right, I'll swaddle him. He's a big baby anyhow.
John walked over to the other side of the bed, grabbed the comforter and folded it over Sherlock width-wise. Now Sherlock was all wrapped up, still grumpy, but warm.
"Night." John turned to make his leave.
"I'm not sleeping" Sherlock grunted.
"No, we're going in for a long day tomorrow, you need sleep. Night."
"I'm not going and I'm not sleeping."
"Why... why wouldn't you go in? You're in the middle of a case."
"No, John. We are in the middle of a case. At least we would be, if you weren't all over anything with two legs and phenotypically female." Sherlock spat out the word 'female' as if it was an insult to be born with an extra X chromosome.
"Would you rather I be with men? It isn't happening! I have no interest in any of it. I already have all the parts. I want to explore something new, something exciting. Something woman."
"Women are far from exciting. They are hormonal beasts that just want to attract males so they can breed. Then they bite their heads off and keep half of the man's belongings and never let him see his offspring. Do you really want that John?"
"You are such the expert. Seeing as you've never been married, had children, any of that!"
"I've seen enough, no thank you. Lestrade? You want to be Lestrade?"
"Greg is a great guy. His wife... ex-wife... well she's a bitch."
"Exactly. Women are useless. They-"
"Oh shut up. Mummy Holmes? She was useless?"
"Mothers don't count."
"They're women too"
"Hardly."
"Sherlock... You're just sore because you want me to hop in bed with you." Sherlock shot up and brought himself within an inch from John's nose.
"I never said I would sleep with you." Sherlock said through his teeth. He pointed to the door. John slid out quite embarrassed. Sherlock slammed his door hard. John started to walk away.
Great. I've upset him. I don't even want to do intimate things with a man. Let alone Sherlock. He's just so...
John's mind flashed with all sort of images of Sherlock. When they first met, him running off into the night, Sherlock and him jumping off tall buildings together, the fall...
He was dead. He came back. Came back for me. He's ruined my life and made my life all at once. I should kiss that man.
John pounded on the door.
"Sherlock!" He gave the door knob a twist and he was surprised the door was unlocked. "Listen, the things I said. You know. You're right." Sherlock lay face down on the bed once more, he had kicked off the comforter completely and was feigning death. "These women have all been rubbish. It may be years, decades before I meet the one and then it will be too late. I'm past my prime, I need to be more realistic." Sherlock mumbled something into the sheets. John turned Sherlock on to his side, he continued as if John heard the first half.
"You call me selfish. I only do what is best for you." John looked at Sherlock half-lidded.
Wake me up? Middle of the night? To fetch you a pen? Selfish git.
"Right, you're an angel, you give and give and I just take and take."
"Glad you see it my way then. What are we trying first?" Sherlock sat up. He looked a bit excited.
"I don't... I don't think we... I came to an agreement." Sherlock looked at John with sad, disappointed eyes. "Right, if I kiss you, you'll shut up?"
"I shouldn't be able to speak with my airway partially blocked." John rolled his eyes.
This is a bad idea.
John leaned forward, Sherlock leaned back.
"What?" John asked.
"Close your eyes, they're weird."
"Thanks Sherlock, you close yours, they're weird."
"It isn't proper form. You close your eyes then we come together."
"This isn't! What, have you been studying?" John leaned back as well.
"How could I not, people practically suck off each other's faces in public. I took note and if you aren't serious and don't adopt the proper form, the deal is off."
"What deal?"
"The deal! Satisfying your need to do things." Sherlock waved away the word with his hand.
"I have other needs too." John said plainly.
"You have two hands." John landed a punch in Sherlock's arm. A little rougher than a play punch but not enough to bruise. Sherlock winced and gave it a rub.
"Right, kiss me before I change my mind. I'll close my eyes when we're closer so I don't knock into your forehead."
"You have no proprioception" Sherlock huffed.
"I know where I am in space and time, I have no idea about you though. I close my eyes and you'll dart from the room and laugh your head off when I lean in and fall over."
"I don't want you looking at me, it is odd." Sherlock grimaced.
"Fine" John grabbed both sides of Sherlock's face, closed his eyes, and smashed their lips together. He pulled away Sherlock's face and released. "There, happy?"
"No, you did it wrong. Sure you closed your eyes but that... no... it will never do. Is that all you do? No wonder you can't keep a girl for more than two dates."
"I'm not about to engage in some passionate kiss with my flatmate to show... what am I showing?"
"That you have terrible form?" Sherlock suggested.
"I so... I do not!" John was steaming. His face was blushing with embarrassment. He shook his head slightly. Then looked to Sherlock. "Again, then." John moved in more gently. Their lips met, he shut his eyes and let a breath out his nose. A small shock went down his spine. He pressed closer. John opened his mouth slightly and willed Sherlock to open his with the tip of his tongue. Sherlock grabbed John by the shoulders and pushed him away. Sherlock rubbed his lips with his sleeve.
"You, licked me." Sherlock said disgusted.
"You... you said... proper form." John panted.
"I never agreed to tongues."
"We never agreed on anything! It is just kissing. Now come here!" John grabbed the back of Sherlock's neck and drew him in for a deep kiss. He was able to get Sherlock's mouth open. He ran his fingers up into Sherlock's hair. Sherlock mirrored John's actions and ran a hand up into John's hair. John let out a small moan and they battled for dominance with their tongues. Suddenly Sherlock pulled John away.
"Done." He said shortly. John let his grip loosen and he dropped his hand.
"What?"
"Tried it. Didn't like it. What's next?" Sherlock asked equally excited. For him this was an adventure. How he loved adventures.
"But... you didn't... didn't like it?" John asked disappointed. He had enjoyed it quite a bit.
"No, quite slippery, not pleasing. You're taste isn't that appealing. Fish n chips was it? And a beer? Not good second hand. Most likely wasn't good the first round either. Pub was cheap. So was your date."
"Thanks." John sighed. He looked down at his hands.
"What's next?"
"Bed"
"John, I said I wouldn't-"
"No. Me in mine, you in yours. I'm going to bed. My bed." John went to stand. Sherlock grabbed his wrist.
"Cuddle?" Sherlock suggested.
"No... you're being just... just mean. I don't want to." Sherlock tightened his grip. He looked into John's sad eyes. Sherlock showed no empathy, no remorse, he was just looking like Sherlock always does. Intrigued.
"Needs practice. Desensitization. I'm new to this idea. I want to try the cuddling bit."
"It's been a long night, the sun will be up in a bit. I just want a few winks of sleep." John groaned.
"Fine, I'll kick you out in thirty minutes."
"Unh, fine! Lie down and roll over on your side." Sherlock responded immediately and turned his back to John without any argument.
Wow. That's a first.
John crawled into bed, lay down next to Sherlock and propped himself up on one elbow. He thought a moment. Then he wrapped an arm around Sherlock's chest and pulled him in close. John pressed the side of his face against Sherlock's warm back. He let out a small sigh. Sherlock remained silent. He didn't flinch or twitch when John had placed an arm around him. John's mind started racing.
Is he enjoying this? He'd tell me if this was bothering him? Right? It's Sherlock, of course he would voice his opinion. I should check.
John went to move his arm and Sherlock clutched on tight to John's wrist and drew it against him.
All right. He is enjoying this. Then again I thought he enjoyed the kiss. That was something. How? Only Sherlock. Cuddling then, this will be our thing. I can live with this, this is lovely. Nice. Warm.
John let his eyes close.
I'll just let my eyes take a rest. I'll just open them when the thirty minutes is up. Right. Just a little rest. It's all I need.
John immediately fell into a deep sleep. Sherlock's breathing was rhythmic as well. Sherlock had lost count of the time as he was trying to make this cuddling precise. Thirty minutes on the dot, no more, no less. Instead they both passed out until ten. John woke to a voice. A woman's voice. His landlady. John shot up and released his arm from Sherlock who groaned slightly.
"My, you two are sweet. Could've been lot worse. Then again, seen it all. Well, with Sherlock, perhaps not. Brought you two up some breads, been at it baking again. I can't bring myself to cut back the recipe you know." Mrs. Hudson chatted away as she placed a tray on Sherlock's night stand. "The detective inspector called. Bout four times. Wondering where you two were. Said you were still in bed. Didn't say you two were in the same bed. Thought you'd prefer that." John rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He let his head fall back on to the bed post.
"Mrs. Hudson, we didn't. I'm not. Oh God. Thanks for the bread."
"Any time dear." Mrs. Hudson smiled at the sight of her boys. Could have been a whole lot worse. She thought she better take up the habit of knocking. She turned and left swiftly, gently closing the door behind her. John stretched his arms and legs, yawned and looked toward the clock.
Sherlock said Lestrade was expecting us at eight. It is half past ten. Now all of Scotland Yard will suspect we slept together. Well, we did sleep together, but we didn't 'sleep' together.
"Sherlock" John pushed at Sherlock's shoulder. "Wake up. We're late."
"Muh" Sherlock groaned.
"Come on. I'm tired too. We promised Lestrade."
"Reverend. Candlestick. In the study"
"You arse, that's Cluedo! Now get up."
"No... I didn't have a proper cuddle."
"We did! For over five hours."
"Too long. Thirty minutes." Sherlock mumbled.
"Well then. You have yourself" John counted on his hands "Ten, near eleven proper cuddles."
"The continuity diminishes the effect. Show proper technique... for once." John groaned and wrapped his arm around Sherlock one more time.
"You know, thirty minutes was an approximation" John mumbled into Sherlock's back.
"It is a precise measurement. No talking."
"I never said there was no talking when-"
"I say." Sherlock grunted. John sighed heavily and moved himself in close. He felt himself drift off once more. Suddenly his arm was thrown off and Sherlock shot up out of bed. "Thirty-minutes, down to the second. There! Now wasn't that much better?" John groaned, half asleep. John half opened his eyes. Sherlock looked the best he had in a while. He was exhilarated, ready for what the day might hold. John on the other hand looked mostly dead. He wanted to crawl under the covers and not wake up for a month. Sherlock grabbed John by both arms and tugged him out of the bed and on to the floor. John hit the floor with a light thud. John stood up slowly.
"We off to see Lestrade then?" John asked shaking his head. Sherlock had a funny way of waking a person up.
"No, I've solved the case. Send a text, we're staying in."
"Why... why am I up then? Who? What was the-"
"Was a Reverend, not the green one. The couple had the same wine, administered by the reverend. On the slide, the one you decided to destroy" John sighed and shook his head. "Amatoxin. Secreted from Pholiotina filaris. A common mushroom in the pacific north-west. The reverend had recently been to Oregon, to see his sister. Although it would be quite unusual to receive herpes from one's own sister."
"How-"
"His cold sore. It was fresh, first one he's ever had. He contracted it over seas. Never you mind. He killed the couple with wine he poisoned because the bride was someone he knew. His cousin's daughter. She knew about the affair. She threatened him. He crushed some of the wild mushrooms he had collected from his trip into the wine. Perhaps he didn't want her dead, maybe just severely ill so she wouldn't speak. Yet there were lethal levels of amatoxin present. The couple died of liver failure shortly after their honeymoon."
"What about... the candlestick? The study?"
"That was a bit of fun."
"Right. Fun. When a newly wed couple dies a painful death. It's fun."
"Why they didn't discover the toxin in the autopsy eludes me. All's well then. Text Lestrade. Reverend, toadstools, in the church."
"I'll make a call then" John rolled his eyes. He made way for the living space while Sherlock entered the bathroom. John walked up the stairs to his room. He walked in and spotted his mobile on the bed. He picked it up and looked up Lestrade in his contacts. He gave him a ring. John plopped down on the bed as he waited.
"John, it's about time. We're on another case now, any news on the couple?"
"Um yeah. The reverend that married them poisoned them with... Shit. Hold on." John thought a moment, his brain was still fuzzy. "Some mycotoxin and they died of liver failure."
"I'm going to need more details. Where's Sherlock?"
"In the shower."
"Good night last night then?" Lestrade chuckled into the phone.
"God, would you... No. No it wasn't. The girl said I had HIV and I left."
Lestrade hissed into the phone "Ouch. Best you let that one go then. When Sherlock is all pretty and proper, you tell him to give me a call."
"You know he won't."
"I know. Tell him anyway."
"Thanks."
"You coming in?"
"You mean, is Sherlock coming in. No. He has some sort of experiment he's working on."
"As long as he isn't experimenting on you. Well g'day then. I'll text if this case becomes interesting. Looks like a simple kid run over by a taxi cab case." John grimaced. The way the police spoke of such horrible events made him get a knot in his stomach. They blamed Sherlock for being insensitive. The whole lot of them were guilty of being socially unacceptable.
"Right. I'll tell him to give you a call. Later"
"Later" John heard the phone click off. He let it drop to his side.
I made out with my flatmate and held him while he slept. This relationship just reached a new level of strange. I'm not even attracted to men. Why did I ever? He didn't even enjoy it! That's the worst bit. He said it was slippery. He deduced my dinner. I need to brush my teeth before bed.
John sighed. He picked up his phone and looked. No new messages. No e-mails. Nothing. Not even an acknowledgement that he took out that dumb bitch out to dinner and paid for her verbal abuse. Sherlock was right, it is a waste of time to pursue a women that will just bite your head off and take half. He enjoyed holding his flatmate if that's all that would be between them. It felt comforting. It is all he really wanted.
That and sex. I've got two hands. Two callused sandpaper hands. Bet Sherlock's hands are... Oh my God. I'm not thinking of Sherlock doing... No. He would never. Would he? His hands are smooth, barely used. Not weathered one bit. Long, lanky, manly hands on my...
John sat up and grunted. He shook his head of the thought.
Stick to cuddling. Just don't press your erection on his back. Oh God... God... Why? Why would my mind go to that. I'm not a pervert. I'm not gay...
John heard a loud crash. Several smaller crashes. Then a door slam.
He broke something. It's mine. The graceful oaf. He can pull the testicles off a fruit fly, yet around my things he is a child in a china shop. This is why we can't have nice things.
John sat up, pressed himself off the bed. Stood, turned about on his heels and calmly made his way down the steps and into the living space. He sighed and began looking. His eyes were focused on the kitchen floor. He stared a moment. Waiting for the rage to come to him.
There it is. Yes here it comes.
"SHERLOCK HOLMES!" John positively screamed. "My kettle! My kettle! The electric fucking kettle!" John roared in anger "I'm going to kill you! Bring you back to life and kill you twice!" John stormed toward Sherlock's door. "I'm going to shove you in a vat of acid and turn you into a human goo." He pounded on the door. "Then I'll dump you into the Thames and take a row boat out every morn, so I can dance on your watery grave! You son of a bitch. I know you're in there." John heard the sound of footsteps behind him race out the front door. John turned abruptly to chase his flatmate down the staircase and out the front door. When John made it to the door, Sherlock was nowhere to be seen. Sherlock knew the streets of London better than any man.
"You know what! Fine! Can't get in the bloody flat without a set of keys then." John slammed the door shut and locked the deadbolt.
"I heard shoutin'" Mrs. Hudson came out of her flat and looked quite concerned. She was all dressed up, likely another date, or she was looking her best for dusting. She did that sometimes, to see if she could throw Sherlock through a loop. One time she succeeded in it. It made her positively giddy to throw him off like that. Since then Sherlock had been more careful with deducing Mrs. Hudson's evening plans by her dress. "You two were so sweet earlier, what happened?"
"We're not... my God. We weren't being sweet. Sherlock wouldn't let me go"
"Looked quite lovely to me."
"Far from it. That bloody maniac. He destroyed my kettle."
"I have an extra. 'fraid it's for the stove-top though. Never can figure out those electric ones. Far too many buttons. I just want my tea, no fuss." She looked into John's eyes "You'll be ok then?"
"Yeah... probably. I'll take that kettle then." Mrs. Hudson smiled. "I'll use it to bludgeon him upside the head when comes round."
"Oh come now, you two will make up. You always do" She placed a hand on John's shoulder briefly and turned to re-enter her flat to dig through her knick-knacks for her extra kettle. "John, you mind giving me a hand. Unlock the door, when Sherlock's ready he'll be back. You know how he is."
"A child"
"Like a little lost lamb. He'll be back. Never you worry."
"I'm not worried."
John entered Mrs. Hudson's tiny cluttered kitchen and watched as she started looking through the cupboards.
"Look through this one then." She said tapping a lower cabinet with her finger. She furrowed her brow as she kept opening random cupboards. John leaned down and opened up the cabinet and started to search through. Mrs. Hudson had two of every small appliance and piece of bake-ware, it was like the Noah's arc of kitchen supplies. "I don't suppose, well best be checking." She turned and walked off leaving John alone to search for the missing kettle. The other was on the back burner of the stove-top. He had really liked the electric one. It was quick, didn't burn down the flat if he left it on. When Sherlock left it on, more like. Sherlock would now be playing with fire to make tea for his most hated enemies. Like his brother.
He never made tea for John but every time Mycroft popped by, Sherlock was suddenly self-sufficient. He was likely showing off how he could take care of himself. He never remembered to eat, sleep, he did keep himself clean at least. He was near cat like in his cleaning rituals. He wouldn't bother picking up the flat for five minutes but if it involved grooming, he'd spend an hour or more on himself. He never took care of himself when it came to illness or eating healthy, but he was absolutely clean.
John finally spotted the kettle Mrs. Hudson was referring to. He pulled it out just as Mrs. Hudson walked back into the kitchen. "That's the one then."
"It's pink... with... hearts..."
"Valentine's gift. From the ex" She gave a slight grimace. "Didn't want to part with it, in case the other started acting up. You have it. No charge" She chuckled lightly.
"Thanks." John stared at it and moved his hands on it.
Who would make a kettle with hearts? A pink kettle with hearts. I need to get a new kettle.
John heard the front door open. He clutched the kettle tight and smacked it on to his open palm. He was ready to beat Sherlock with a pink kettle. A pink kettle with hearts.
"Let him be, John. He likely didn't mean to smash the kettle. You know he doesn't like apologies. You'll scare him off again."
"Good! Maybe he'd keep his bloody hands off my things."
"Let your head cool. Have a cuppa. Down here. You're not-"
"Thinking clearly? Yeah I'm thinking clearly. I'm thinking of... You're right." John set himself on to a kitchen chair and placed the kettle on the table. He placed his head in his hands. "He's driving me mad of late." Mrs. Hudson filled the pink kettle with water and exchanged it with the plain silver one. She placed it on the burner and cranked the dial to high. John looked at the plain silver kettle, no hearts.
"Didn't think you'd be liking the pink one. Bit of a joke." She giggled. John smiled a bit.
"Thanks. Yeah. This is great. Much better" John laughed.
"It'll take some effort for Sherlock to break that"
"He'll find a way." John sighed.
"What's this about then?" Mrs. Hudson put her hands on her hips and leaned against the counter.
"The kettle?"
"It's a bit more than that." John threw his head back and groaned. He didn't want to have this talk with his landlady.
"He's just being a..."
Prick. Bitch. Twat. Arse. Pain. Good pain isn't a curse.
"He's being a pain. Bout things."
"What type?" Mrs. Hudson was starting to really pry. John was becoming more uncomfortable.
"Completely non... not... it's intimate stuff." John regretted using the word 'intimate' immediately. "Not that intimate. Like... you know."
"Like this morning?"
"That's... a non-issue. He enjoys that bit. It's... he doesn't... get it." John sighed. "He drove a wedge between me and every girl I came in contact with. Then he starts this thing. Called it an 'experiment' like I'm some sort of test monkey... God why am I telling you this?" Mrs. Hudson shrugged her shoulders. It was a fresh topic and John was speaking as if this had gone on for years, this experimenting. Maybe not. Maybe Mrs. Hudson knows this is a recent development. What did it matter?
"Did you tell him how you feel? Bout this?"
"He doesn't get feelings. He'd shrug it off like anything else."
"I think you're not giving him the chance." The kettle whistled. Mrs. Hudson put it off to the side and waited.
"I... I gave him plenty of chances. He's the one. He..." John stuttered. John wanted this more than Sherlock. He wanted to be intimate with someone, anyone. It just so happened his flatmate wanted to help him out. Was he not being selfish, for once? Not likely, he probably wanted this as well. It was consent. John liked that. It was rarely that way with women. "Right! I wanted this as well. He's still a prick. God. Sorry." John rubbed his forehead.
"It's all right. Heard a lot worse." She grabbed the tea-cups, placed a bag in each, and poured the water over. She placed one on the table. John looked at the label 'Earl Grey'. Perhaps his least favourite type of tea. He'd drink it. Tasted like an old English gentleman in a suit. Not that he'd know. Better than the dirty dish water flavour he was becoming accustomed to, because it was cheap. No wonder Sherlock didn't drink his tea half the time. He'd get some top of the line tea, in silk sachets. Even he couldn't mess those up.
John pulled out the bag, tossed it in the bin. Gave the tea a smell. He drank politely. Trying not to make a face at the fruity citrus taste. He preferred his tea without fruit. Fruit made it taste more like syrup. However it didn't take milk, perhaps he could save a fortune not buying milk every other day.
Non-specific binding. God. Like he thought I knew what that meant. What kind of experiments is he running in that kitchen? Probably needed the kettle for one. Forgot it was full of water and... He must have thrown it to the ground. Who knocks over a full kettle? It wasn't even on the edge. I don't even want to know. It will just start another fight.
John finished half and set it on the table.
"I should be seeing Sherlock then. He told Lestrade, well more like I told Lestrade, he wasn't coming to the yard today. Wanted to spend the day in."
"You two make up then. I'll give you your space. Less I hear gunshots."
"Call Lestrade first. I don't want Sherlock being locked up, unless he deserves it." John turned to leave. Mrs. Hudson handed him the silver kettle. John smiled and gave her a nod. He left and Mrs. Hudson closed the door behind him. Sherlock was waiting. Sitting on the top step, his chin resting on one hand, he looked bored.
"Look! New kettle. All is forgiven. Where'd you make it to then?" John started climbing the steps. Sherlock made no response. John reached the top and placed a hand on Sherlock's head and pushed him to the side. Sherlock's chin fell off his hand as his elbow slipped off his knee. He sat a moment longer while John entered the flat.
That's when John noticed what must have been the small crashes he heard. Right next to the electric kettle were five saucers, in pieces. The ones with the gold rims.
"Hm." John said to himself.
That set belongs to Sherlock. I shouldn't care. I do though. I really do.
"The saucers as well Sherlock? Do you really not like tea?" He asked mockingly. "Well at least we still have some cups left. A new kettle as well. You're not making any tea until we get a new electric one then. You and fire don't mix." John stepped back and peered toward the staircase. Sherlock's back was turned to John. He had returned his hand to rest his chin on. "Come on in. I'm not mad." Sherlock didn't budge. "You're getting off scot-free. Now get in here." John said sternly. "Fine, the door is closing. I'm not letting you in then. Bye!" John shut the door and locked it. He shook his head. There was a small scratch at the door.
He's a bleeding cat I swear.
"What?" John said swinging the door open.
"I want in." Sherlock said glumly. John stepped aside and let him in. Sherlock made way for the sofa and threw himself on to it. He let out a deep sigh.
"You feel any remorse for breaking the kettle? The saucers, your saucers?" Sherlock shook his head 'no'. John groaned. "You ran off!"
"You said you'd kill me twice and bathe me in acid. It sounded like a premeditated murder. One that was well thought out."
"I... My God! If I were going to kill you I would have done it fifty times already. I'm not going to viciously murder you over a kettle. I will yell though."
"You do."
"Sorry! You constantly break everything I own."
"Everything" Sherlock scoffed.
"Should I list them?"
"Unh. No, not again."
"The kettle, the saucers, my bed post, the sig, the oven door, my wrist-"
"That! That was an accident."
"You pushed me down a flight of stairs in pursuit of a criminal, because I was running up faster than you. I was in a cast for weeks!"
"It was a hair-line fracture. There wasn't even any bleeding."
"My wrist cracks when I rotate it." John demonstrated.
"You act like I enjoyed it."
"Normal, ordinary folk, don't shove their friends down a flight of stairs."
"It was hardly five steps, you need to learn how to fall more gracefully."
"You need to learn to keep your hands to yourself."
"How am I supposed to be intimate without touching then?" Sherlock rolled on to his belly and buried his face into the cushions.
"Right. While you have your sulk. I'm making a list. We need to do the... I need to do the shopping." John pulled out the paper from the drawer and grabbed Sherlock's pen off the kitchen table.
Milk obviously. Then meat, eggs, bread, sugar, perhaps sugar cubes...
He looked over at Sherlock.
Tea... Hm...
"Anything you need?" Sherlock mumbled into the cushion "God, Sherlock, I can't hear you when you speak into the cushions."
"LUBRICANT!" Sherlock shouted. John dropped the pen.
"Christ! Sherlock! Mrs. Hudson is down stairs! Keep it down!"
"You said what I needed! I need LUBRICANT" Sherlock shouted twice as loud. John stormed over and grabbed a pillow. He started to smack Sherlock upside the head. Sherlock started laughing.
"What? You're upset by my shouting LUBRICANT?"
"Shut the hell up! Half of Baker street will hear you!"
"LUB-" Sherlock started. John pressed the pillow on to the back of Sherlock's head and held it there. Sherlock flailed a bit before he went limp. John let go.
"You done then?"
"You tried to kill me."
"Just knock you out, just for a bit. Now what do you really need from the store?"
"Some... lubricant?" Sherlock looked up at John.
"You can't be serious. We just... we only just. I'm not ready for that. I thought..."
"I need it for an experiment." Sherlock said sadly.
"With me?" Sherlock nodded. "You are such a perv!" He hit Sherlock upside the head once more. "I'm not going out alone to buy lube."
"If we go together-"
"Right! I'll go alone then. We'll have it on hand then. When I'm good and ready."
"Tonight?"
"Christ! No. You can't rush these things. You are so impatient. You're lucky I slept with you, I'm not sleeping with you." Sherlock looked confused at the difference. "I'm not letting you fuck me up the arse"
"Oh, right." Sherlock nodded. "That's not what I was planning."
"What, you want me to-"
"No... something else... with hands... yours are too coarse." John looked down at his hands.
I thought the same thing not long ago.
"This is all moving too fast. I really didn't intend on hooking up with my flatmate last night." John whined. "I'll go... but seriously..." John threw his hands up in the air and went for his coat. He took in a deep breath and shrugged his coat on to his shoulders. "Right, going to Tesco... to buy lubricant"
Going to Tesco. To face my dreaded and most feared adversary. The chip and PIN machine.