WITHIN ARM'S REACH
...
Author's note: This is my first Sherlock fanfic. Please review!
Warning - spoilers up to S3 E2.
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The First Date
"Right, okay. You're unattached, just like me." John Watson couldn't have been more explicit. "Fine. Good."
Sherlock Holme's heart had jolted, alarmed, then swiftly recoiled to safety.
Stop!
His signals immediately switched from green to red, bypassing amber completely. "John, um... I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work and while I am flattered by your interest I'm..."
"No. I'm not asking...no. I was just saying. Its all fine." John had crumpled, backtracked. Possibly misled by Sherlock's earlier flirtatious text.
Could be dangerous. SH
Flirtation wasn't unfamiliar to Sherlock, a practical resource to be used economically when necessary to obtain the required outcome. It had always worked with Molly.
Could be dangerous. SH
Sherlock had texted that phrase frivolously at the time, only later realising what an understatement it had been. How desperately he wanted Doctor John Watson within arm's reach, yet it was clearly going to be safer to keep him firmly at arm's length.
Any closer could be dangerous, too close to his heart. It was a territory that Sherlock had no desire to either lose or find himself in.
...
Courting Danger
Despite the initial misunderstanding, John had stuck around anyway. Addicted to the jeopardy that Sherlock was continuously immersed in. Needy for the heightened buzz of the battlefield. If army doctor, Captain John Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers couldn't be in a war zone, then hanging out with the world's only consulting detective seemed to suffice to some extent.
It was an irritation to Sherlock that John craved physical and emotional companionship. Probably a side effect of his Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Always a random girlfriend on the scene giving him what Sherlock wouldn't.
Or couldn't whilst he'd been away pretending to be dead for two years.
What Sherlock most regretted was underestimating the allure of Mary Morstan.
...
The Wedding
For the briefest moment Sherlock Holmes both forgot and remembered something simultaneously. In hindsight, he'd blame his lapse on the music, the euphoric influence of the joyous dancers.
Oh, what a night!
For a split-second his autonomic nervous system had got the better of him. Heightened sensitivity as elevated amounts of noradrenaline were delivered to the sensory regions on his brain's cerebral cortex. Adrenaline released by his adrenal glands raised his heart rate and tensed his muscles in preparation for physical exertion.
A rhythm nearly embedded itself and caused him to sway and be a part of the crowd. Almost dance like a normal guest, instead of just painfully enduring John and Mary's wedding.
Then Sherlock's steely, logical brain had intervened and curtailed his body's instinctive reaction to the music and dancers.
What was he thinking?
Dance alone?
Ridiculous!
Sherlock observed himself on the periphery of other people's lives. On the outskirts, despite being in the middle of the dance floor.
How Mycroft would mock if he knew of Sherlock's secret weakness for dancing!
How Mycroft would guffaw if he knew that Sherlock's heart was painfully disintegrating as John slipped further away from arm's reach.
