This is written for Tumblr LetsWriteSherlock Trope Bingo Challenge
Bingo Card Number: 2
Trope: Road Trip
It's unbeta-d so please tell me if there's any mistake. (And sorry for the yoga-ish title)
I hope you enjoy fluff :)
John stood at the window; his gaze fell upon the busy people moving about on Baker Street; the air was overly warm and stuffy, and he was exhausted.
They solved a nasty case a few days ago, one involving children and fire, and John hadn't had a full night sleep since. Whenever he closed his eyes, his mind was brought back to the time of war and children screaming.
The only time he fell asleep, was to the soothing sound of Sherlock's violin in the middle of the night.
It calmed him, to know that Sherlock was there with him and he was not alone.
But he needed more. He needed to get away from the stifling heat of London. He needed to get away from the noise, the air, the people. He just wanted to get out.
"What?" Sherlock asked, from his position on the couch in his dressing gown.
"It might be nice to get out of London."
Sherlock's hands paused for a second before continuing his typing on John's laptop.
He heard his flatmate, of course. And as usual, he saved the information in his head, never once deleted anything John said.
One week later, Sherlock suggested a road trip.
Two weeks later, they were three hours away from London.
As the moonlight was starting to peek through the trees, and the sky began to darken, John snuck a glance at the sleeping consulting detective beside him.
His eyelids were lowered, covering the beautiful ocean-coloured eyes he had, and his mouth hung slightly open, his chest moving up and down with every breath. Overall, Sherlock looked…softer. His sharp edges were softened in his sleep, and the tight rein he had over his emotions was removed.
The ex-army doctor was grateful for the road trip, and he knew it was for him as it wasn't something the genius would normally do. But he thought the two of them could benefit from it, because high-functioning sociopath or not, the case affected Sherlock too, and it seemed to him that Sherlock hadn't slept a wink in the past weeks.
And the fact that Sherlock, the Sherlock Holmes, was willing to leave cases behind and did this for him, warmed his heart.
If it was possible, he was even more in love with his flatmate.
An hour later, they arrived at an open field because John wanted to see the stars.
It was cold in the countryside, especially at night. Sherlock settled down beside John, legs stretched out and leaning into John's warmth, and John shifted a little closer to Sherlock, their proximity making the cold a little more tolerable.
"Clear night tonight." Looking up at the night sky, one that was painted with bright stars and moonlight, John felt an odd sort of relief. The stars were going on forever and it was so vast and beautiful that the doctor felt he could breathe again. "You can hardly get a view like this in London."
Beside him, Sherlock looked up at the night sky obligingly. It was beautiful, of course, the moon and stars shining brightly in the stillness of the night, but Sherlock didn't miss the wistfulness in John's voice.
"We could do this again, sometime." Sherlock spoke, his voice casual as always.
John turned his head to look at Sherlock, who was settling down to rest and asked hopefully. "You would do this again? Really?"
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Yes. Do pay attention to what I've said, John."
John smiled at his flatmate, ignoring the barb with practiced ease. "Thank you, Sherlock."
The consulting detective looked away from John, embarrassed by the sudden gratitude. He wanted to say something clever, something along the line of John being obtuse, being sentimental, but he didn't. Because John was smiling. He was smiling in the same way he did before the case, and Sherlock didn't want to take it away.
And because John deserved this. This peace of mind. And if leaving London and watching stars in the countryside were what it took for John to be happy again, Sherlock would do it in a heartbeat.
He would do anything to keep the smile there. Anything at all.
"It was nothing. There wasn't any interesting case these days." Sherlock murmured. John gave him another smile before laying down beside him and they talked.
John pointed out the constellations he could find to Sherlock, told him about the night sky in Afghanistan, how the stars seemed to shine brighter in the muggy heat of desert, and how the soldiers passed the time with games and jokes. John wasn't afraid to speak of his war experience anymore, because he knew Sherlock wouldn't judge him. That Sherlock wouldn't judge the difficult decisions he had to make between saving his comrades' lives and saving his own life from the shootings and explosions, the nightmares he still had of his friends being shot to death in front of him, and the flashbacks of him being shot in the shoulder.
He could look back now and think about the good memories, not just the bad, because he knew Sherlock would always be there for him.
Sometime during the conversation, they had moved closer to each other and now John had his head rested on Sherlock's shoulder, their hands intertwined and feet tangled. The stars continued to shine brightly over them.
When Sherlock pressed a kiss to John's head moments later, John didn't move away. Instead, the doctor raised his head and brushed their lips together.
Road trip, Sherlock thought to himself. Wasn't so bad after all.
-Fin.-
AN: I love stars, a lot.
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