"Sherlock!" I hollered at my annoying flatmate as he pushed me on to the couch. "I don't want-"
"Hush, John. I need to verify my results!"
I looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. "So you've tried this on someone else then?"
"Yes and it didn't work on me. I need to try it on a lesser mind. No, no, don't look at me like that John, you know what I mean." I sighed and let him try. It wasn't as though he could make me do something I didn't want to. Hypnosis didn't work that way. I found out later he had recorded the session and he let me listen to it later.
"Are you relaxed, John?" His voice was soothing and I murmured my assent. "Good. Now I want you tell me your favorite memory."
"That's easy. I'm sitting in the graveyard in Dartmoor, making notes about the case when you come and ask me about Dr. Mortimer. You make a joke and then tell me you were only trying to break the ice, I tell you to stick to ice. You tried pressing me about U.M.Q.R.A.-"
"What was that about?"
"Nothing, as I said. Just a couple making out in their car and his belt kept getting caught on the blinker."
"Go on." I could hear the amused tone and knew he was trying to keep from laughing.
Jerk.
"Then you told me I was your only friend. I tried to stay mad at you but couldn't. You called me a conductor of light. I had never felt so happy than in that one moment. You needed me."
"That's a good memory. It's one of my favorites as well." His voice sounded… I'm not sure. Well… if it was anyone other than Sherlock I would have said it was happy. "Now tell me one thing about yourself that you don't usually tell others." He continued.
"I was the popular kid at school. You know the one with top grades, good at sports, always had a girlfriend, student council."
"Why don't you like telling people that?" I could almost hear the frown in his voice.
"Because most people equate popular with being an ass. A bully. I wasn't. I was friendly with everyone. Stuck up for the outcasts too."
The voice got quiet. "I could have used someone like you at school." It wasn't the same soft almost happy voice from before. It was more melancholy.
"Now tell how you feel about me."
"I can't. I'm afraid." I told him.
"Afraid of what?"
"That I won't be able to stay. That you'll be cross with me. That you'll despise me."
"Despise you? Why would I despise you?" He sounded confused.
"Because you despise sentiment." I could hear the exasperation in my voice.
"But John, you're always sentimental."
"I guess that's true."
"So tell me how you really feel about me."
"I love you, Sherlock Holmes."
"In what way?" I was a little surprised he knew there were more than one kind.
"Not, in an 'Oh my god I want shag you' kind of way. I've loved you like a brother, a friend for a long time but lately it's turned in to something more. Something more like romantic love I guess."
"Why?"
"Because you are my everything. Everything I do, say or think is wrapped up in you. I can't seem to get away. And now I don't want to."
"Thank you John. When I snap my fingers, you will wake. But…" and then he whispered something in my ear before I hear the snapping of his fingers.
I awake from the hypnosis and rubbed my eyes.
"So did it work?" I asked as I struggled to sit up.
"Yes." He moved to help me up. "You actually went pretty deep. I think I could have asked you pretty much anything and you would have told me." I frowned.
"And did you?"
"And did I what?" He asked.
"Ask me anything?"
"No of course not. Your secrets are safe. I was just seeing if hypnosis improved recall."
"And does it?" I was actually curious. I had heard it could but I was interested to see how much.
"Only marginally. Not worth the time to be honest. But worth the knowing…" he hurried to assure me. I smiled.
"You want to go out to eat?" I asked him as the effects of the hypnosis was wearing off and I was hungry.
"Chinese or Indian?"
"Indian I think. I could go for a good curry."
"Done, grab your coat and we'll go."
We sat at the restaurant chatting about inane things. But he kept looking at me expectedly.
"Sherlock, is there something wrong?"
"No, no. I'm just worry about how deep you got in the hypnosis. Not that the mind would allow you to do something against your moral code. But you went so deep…."
"It's all right," I smiled at him. "You're the only one I'd allow do that to me." I couldn't believe the words that came out of my mouth. I was so close to telling him how I felt. I shook my head.
"Thank you John."
"For what?" A frown of confusion creased my brow.
"For basically saying that I'm the only one you trust to open you up like an oyster and not plunder the depths I find there."
I blushed. It was getting rather hot in here and I called for the check. Sherlock eyed me sidelong but had the waiter box up our food and we carried it home.
Once we had put it away, I took a deep breath and caught Sherlock's hand as he moved to sit in his chair.
"Sherlock?" He looked at me his eyes alight with an incandescent glow. My breath caught in my chest.
"Take off my jumper." I said. He looked at me confused.
"John, I-" I could see him back pedal.
"It's nothing like that Sherlock. There is just something I want you to see and I don't have the strength to do it myself."
He nodded and I held my arms up so that he could pull it over my head.
"Now my shirt." He raised an eyebrow and did as I asked. I shivered as he slid his hands over my shoulders and down my arms to remove the shirt.
"You said my secrets were safe from you and I decided that I didn't want them to be. I wanted to share everything with you. The good and the bad. The scars you see are my history. Pick one and ask. I'll tell you anything."
I could see him scan over my scars and pick the most obvious one. The one on my left shoulder.
"Being a crack shot medic isn't all it turned out to be. I was trying to get a wounded soldier to cover when they shot me. Terrible shots if they couldn't hit anything better than my shoulder. The soldier died and I would have too it wasn't for the aid of my nurse Bill Murray. And I thank him every day that he did because I met you."
He smiled and moved around to my back, I swallowed heavily as he touched the long one on my back.
"Where on earth would you have gotten that one?" He asked fingering its length.
"It wasn't deep. It's one of the reasons me and Harry don't get along. She was drunk and called me 'the golden boy' and 'the boy that could do no wrong'. I was seventeen. I turned to walk away and she grabbed a kitchen knife and swung at me. It stung and bled a bit but it did leave a scar."
I could feel him bristle. "It's alright Sherlock. The expression on her face when she realized what she had done more than made up for it." I told him as smiled into his eyes.
He moved to point out more scars and I told him about each one.
"Are there other scars? Like on your legs?" He asked when we were done.
"Not many no. None important. A skinned knee when I six. I fell off my bike. One on my toe from when I was twelve and was playing with my father's army knife. Seven stitches."
"Alright, John. What was the point of all this? Why do you want to tell me all these things?"
I looked up into his eyes. "Because I want to lay my whole heart bare Sherlock. Everything."
"And is this everything?" His voice had gotten husky.
I reached up and put my arms around his neck. I stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, "I love you Sherlock."
I felt his arms wrap around my bare waist and I shivered even though he was very warm. I could feel him nuzzle the top of my head and I sighed happily into his chest.
"I've loved you for so long," I muttered.
"Than why didn't you tell me?" He asked, hurt.
"Because I was afraid you'd reject me and I'd be forced to leave you side. It wasn't worth it."
"I would never kick you out John. What you must think of me?"
"I know that Sherlock. I do. No. It would have been me leaving. You see I wouldn't have been able to stay knowing how much I loved you and you not returning my feelings. I wouldn't be able to look you the eye."
"And yet here are in my arms, John." I looked up into his eyes and he pressed his lips to mine. I melted into his arms.
"God, Sherlock," I murmured as I came up for breath. He chuckled at me. And then he sighed. He pulled me over to couch, where he pulled out a small recorder.
"What's this?"
"It's the hypnosis session from earlier. I lied about your secrets being safe. But I had to know." He got up and left as I pressed play. I listened and the first questions were safe enough. And then the hammer fell. I grabbed my coat and dropped the recorder on the floor as I dashed out the door where I collided with my flatmate.
"John-" He seemed surprised. I reached up and pulled his face into mine. He struggled briefly before giving into the roughness of the kiss. He wrapped his arms around me.
"Why aren't you cross with me?" He asked when I finally let him up.
"Because Sherlock, I can't be angry at something that I would have done myself. If I thought it would have worked, of course." I laughed.
"Which it wouldn't have."
He ran his hands over my still bare chest. I looked down and grinned foolishly.
"I forgot that I didn't have a shirt on…" I laughed.
"Oh I haven't…" he purred into my ear, as sultry as any woman could be. My heart began to beat against my ribcage like a drum.
His hands were all over my skin making my breath catch. He gently pushed me back into the flat and kicked the door closed behind us.
"God, John," he breathed.
"You know you could have asked me those questions without hypnosis." I told him between ragged breaths.
"I couldn't be sure you weren't lying John." He looked ashamed.
"Well, I just have one question." He raised an eyebrow. "What did you whisper in my ear before you woke me up?" I could feel his chuckle against my chest.
"'Tell me soon.'" He purred into my ear and I shuddered.
"Well, was this soon enough for you?" I chuckled into his ear between my teeth as nibbled on his ear.
"God," he moaned. "No. I was expecting it at the restaurant. Isn't that what people do?" He muttered.
"I thought I about doing it there but I wanted it to be special. I didn't want to be ordinary."
"Oh John, you are anything but ordinary."
I lead him over to the couch. "I think before we get any further we need to be as honest and open with each other possible. You learned about my outward scars, now you can learn about me other scars. Ask me anything, Sherlock and I swear on your empty grave that I will answer any question you have."
His eyes went wide. "Anything?"
"As long as you return the favor, then yes."
"Can I get a reward for answering your questions honestly?" He had this sly look in his eye.
"I suppose. What did you have in mind?" I asked cocking my head to the side.
"A kiss," he purred. I laughed.
"Sure Sherlock you may have a kiss overtime you answer a question. You don't have to worry about me. I want to tell you. But I understand things are harder for you to articulate and you may even have three passes."
"Thank you John. You think we should go back and forth then?"
"Sounds good. You go first."
"Alright. What did your parents do?"
"My father was an army doctor and my mother was an army nurse, they met in Oman."
"Love on the battlefield, sounds familiar," he chuckled and I smiled back.
"What did your father do?"
"Just my father? Why not both my parents?"
"Because even I can tell that you were raised well off and I doubt your mother did anything but manage the house."
"Very clever John. My father was a high powered attorney at one of the biggest law firms in London. My mother stayed home until I entered primary school."
I leaned over and gave him a kiss.
"One of the scars I pointed out was from your father, did he beat you often?"
"Only when he was sober and that wasn't often. Doctors get PTSD just as normal soldiers do. In fact they probably get it worse. All those people you couldn't save."
"Is that what happened to you?"
I looked down at my hands and wrung them. "I guess it makes it worse when you live the other bloke doesn't. My therapist called it survivor's guilt."
"Perfectly natural reaction if you ask me." Sherlock huffed.
"Well looks like I get to ask two questions since you did." He looked at me strangely as he recalled our conversation.
"Seems fair. After all I still have all my passes."
"Has there always been bad blood between you and Mycroft?"
He laughed but it was bitter. "No. God, no. He was my staunchest protector once upon a time."
"What happened? Was it time or was there a major event that was the catalyst?"
"Does that count as one question or two?" He asked his eyes dancing mischievously. I pursed my lips together.
"Two, more kisses that way." I winked at him, "Provided you answer them both."
He laughed. "I believe it was a combination of the two, if I were honest. And you said you wanted me to be, so… yes it was a wearing over time that started with a particular incident."
"Well that was vague." I chuckle. He leaned forward and whispered in my ear.
"If you want to know more, you'll have to ask more questions." I blushed, but gave him the three kisses I owed him. The last one left me breathless.
"Did your father beat Harry too?" came his next question.
"No my mother wouldn't let him. 'Never strike a lady,' so I'd get her beatings as well. That type of thing breeds all sorts of resentments."
"When did she start drinking?"
I sighed heavily. "When she was about seventeen. Came home with tattoos, piercings, black hair and came out of the the closet all in one day. My father went off the rails. She started drinking then."
"You turn."
"What was the major event that sent you and Mycroft down the slippery slope that is your current relationship?" I was trying to word in such a way that he couldn't wiggle out of it.
"It was the most horrible day of my life until that spring day when I jumped off St. Bart's. Mycroft and I were fighting and he tossed my violin into the fire. With the varnish and its construction it lit up like a candle and burned like lightning. It was gone it moments."
"Sherlock that's-" He held up a hand to stall me.
"It gets worse." I raised an eyebrow. What could be worse than that? I found out soon enough. "I ran out of there and hid. My father sent Mycroft to find me. It took him hours because I left false clues. Once he found me he dragged me back home, kicking and screaming. When we got back to the house, we found it teaming with police. Did you know that they investigate suicides? I didn't then. How could I? I was only seven."
I nodded and choked back tears.
"I'd be angry too." And I leaned forward and kissed him tenderly.
"I've only got one more question John. What did I do deserve you?" I smiled and kissed him.
"I thought you didn't want kisses for my questions?"
"I didn't but it was such a sweet question I couldn't resist. You were just your mad self. You help people and let me come along with you on these incredible adventures. I often wonder what god out there decided that we should meet because I'd like to thank him."
"Or her." I smiled.
"Does this mean that it's just kisses for questions now?"
He smiled. I learned a lot about Sherlock and he did use his passes. He refused to talk about the man that got him started on drugs, his one friend in college, and his father's death. But from what I gleaned the former two committed suicide like his mother and the first was a therapist his brother sent him to.
We fell asleep on the couch wrapped in each other's arms, content in the knowledge that we had laid our hearts on the line and forged a bond that could not be broken.