Chapter One, in which John returns home and gets surprised by Sherlock in more than one way...
Beta: Pilikia18
"Sherlock?" I ask cautiously, my voice sounding muffled. No wonder it does, really, because currently my face is pressed into my friend's coat, as he hugs me fiercely. "Sherlock, what happened?"
We are standing at the top of the stairs to our flat near the door to the living room. I just got home after the night shift and was planning to have a light snack and go to bed, but apparently my odd flatmate has other plans.
"Nothing," he says quietly. "I've missed you."
He was already standing at the top of the stairs, when I stumbled into our flat. Judging by the coat, scarf and gloves he obviously planned to go out for some reason, so I smiled at him tiredly and started up the stairs. He still waited silently, looking at me intently, which started to worry me a little, to be honest. Frowning, I finished climbing the stairs and seconds later found myself in Sherlock's embrace.
Sherlock is not exactly the touchy-feely type, so I was shocked a little by this turn of events. I carefully tried to pull away, but my companion was having none of that. He actually tightened his arms around me, and second later I felt his hand at the nape of my neck, steadily pushing my head forward, so finally my forehead rested against his shoulder. I simply had no other choice than give up and hug him back.
He's holding me firmly and steadily, and actually, it is quite pleasant. I even allow myself to relax slightly against him, and he supports my weight easily. I'm really tired – this night was quite complicated, there was a horrible car crash, three victims, severely traumatised, so I was in surgery for the entire shift.
"Bad night?" Sherlock asks suddenly, his voice sympathetic.
"You have no idea," I feel my eyelids drooping slightly, and squeeze my eyes shut in order to stay awake. But it is really hard, when your flatmate is so warm and comfortable…
"Hey," he's swatting lightly at the back of my head. "Don't you fall asleep on me, John, I have work to do."
"Then stop being so nice to me and let me go," I grumble.
He snorts and continues to hold me for a while. He smells very nice, actually – a mix of aftershave, coffee, and a bunch of other aromas I can't quite put my finger on. Very nice, and veery cooomfortable, indeed…
"John," there's a warning note in his voice now.
"Okay, okay," I attempt to pull away, and this time he lets me. I realise that I'm missing the warmth already, when my body shivers slightly, now bereft of its impromptu cocoon.
Sherlock turns away and goes down the stairs. Near the front door he turns around and looks at me.
"I'm really sorry, John," he says unexpectedly.
"Sorry for what, Sherlock?" I ask, perplexed.
"You'll see," he elaborates, and ten seconds later he's already gone.
Puzzled, I shake my head and open the living room door…
"Sherlock! Oh, for God's sake, not again!"