The Lost Stories of Holmes and Watson

New Style

Sitting in his chair, he stared at the name in front of him wondering whether this person was significant or not.

Benedict Cumberbatch? Who is that?

–SH

I think it's an actor Sherlock.

–JW

I must look him up online… Hmmm his eye color changes, but why? I must admit he looks... healthy for his age? Come have a look John.

–SH

John entered the living room, finding Sherlock at the desk, staring intensely at the screen, engrossed in the analysis of the man standing on the red carpet or a different shot of the actor featured in some spy thriller.

"He looks quite a bit like you, except for the hair", John remarks.

"Does he? Is that a...good thing?"

"I suppose so. He is quite good looking", unable to catch his words as they escape his mouth before filtering them in his mind.

"Well" –cough- "I guess…" Sherlock answers, clearing his throat.

"What?"

"No, nothing I don't know..." trailing off as his thoughts began to wander again.

"You know, maybe you should try the ginger thing, if it works for this guy, maybe it'll work on you", John says carefully.

Scoffing, "Maybe as a disguise? What you have something for gingers John?" questions a smirking Sherlock.

"I might have..." mumbling with a blush.

"Alright then, come on I might need your help!" Standing suddenly, strolling away to the bathroom, turning to John to get him to follow.

"When I went into hiding for the three years I dyed my hair a couple of different colours for disguise. But never made it to ginger yet, I still got the box" Sherlock finishes, seizing his quick strides turning to John.

John raises his eyebrows a bit, while attempting to picture growing anything other than his dark, curly top.

"Really? "

"Sure, why not", answering in a smile.

"Okay then." Continuing with his blushing Sherlock shouts a "Geronimo!" sprinting the rest of the way to the bathroom. Inside, Sherlock quickly finds the box of dye in medicine cabinet as he hears John laughing behind him. Unbuttoning his top, Sherlock lazily tosses it aside just as John joins him inside, to which he lets out a hidden gasp, going unnoticed by Sherlock. On his knees, Sherlock turns on the hose, being sure to his head was properly wet and soaked.

"So John what's it say to do?"

For a moment John's eyes linger at his back, but Sherlock's voice pulls him back to reality as he opens the box and pulls out the bottles. Reading the instructions carefully.

"Well first we need to mix the parts together and then I guess you just put it in your hair, making sure to get it all covered."

"You know, I think we should trim my hair short too, I do not want to look like that American Carrot Top or something", still running his hands through the massive tangle beginning to develop.

"Let's dye it first and then think about you getting a haircut. One thing at a time", mused John, hiding his giggle imagining Sherlock's massive red hair, almost similar to that of a circus clown

"What ever is easiest", sighed Sherlock as he shut off the faucet, as the once tamed curls submitted to the weight of water. Sitting on the side of the tub water from his ends began to drip over him, causing John to take a deep gulp quickly darting his eyes to the dye box instructions, looking for a distraction.

"Scissors in the draw", pointed Sherlock.

"You want me to cut it?"

"Yes why not? You are here aren't you? Logically, being a soldier having to keep your hair short, surely you know what to do." Smirk.

"Okay I guess I can do that... Let's get it coloured first though." An unease John picked up the two bottles, pouring one into the other and shaking it to mix it up.

"Ready and get it right okay? I trust you on this" Sherlock asked quickly tilting his head down. John pulled on the gloves that came in the kit and began pouring the dye onto Sherlock's hair, massaging it in and making sure that all his hair was coated in the dye.

"Okay, I think it's all good. Now you just need to wait half an hour for it to work."

"Phone please. Bored" demanded the child. 'Note to self, scalp massages from John are relaxing, helps improve cognitive activity' thought Sherlock. Pulling off the gloves, tossing them into the bin, John walked off to the sitting room grumbling to himself.

"Boooooored! Jawwwwwn!"

Rolling his eyes, John spotted the phone near the laptop, huffing back a minute later so as to keep Sherlock quiet.

"Sherlock you asked for this, if you're bored it's your own fault."

"Thank you." Flashing him an innocent smile, "Now please get me some tea, greatly appreciate it."

"I'm only doing this because I don't want you to get dye all over the flat."

"Excellent."

Phone in hand, Sherlock browses over some news articles, murder here, kidnapping there. Nothing interesting.

Tea yet? –SH.

An imaginary yell enters into the bathroom.

Jesus Sherlock, I'm only in the other room you don't need to text me. –JW

"Thought you were used to this by now" Sherlock yelled.

That doesn't mean it isn't annoying! –JW

"Then why you still texting me John?"

"I don't know. I guess it's just habit" John answered back loudly.

"Ha-ha, I deduce water should be boiled soon, another 15 minutes to go on dye too maybe."

Not long later John returned to the bathroom carrying two cups of tea and handed one over to Sherlock then proceeding to lean against the wall drinking his.

"Thank you. Oh! So you are joining me thank you."

"I've only been gone 5 minutes" John answered dryly.

"Have you...interesting", trailing off.

"What's interesting about that?"

"No nothing, just thinking", as Sherlock's eyes darted between John and his Mind Palace.

"Okaaayyy..."

Sherlock sips his tea thoughtfully, 'John seemed very enthusiastic about my outward appearance...I will have to investigate this further'. A silence continues for another few minutes, each lost in their own little worlds. Peering into his empty cup, Sherlock asked:

"How much more time John, don't have my watch."

"Just a couple more minutes, although maybe you should leave it on a bit longer since your hair is so dark."

"Fine." More quiet, each waiting for the other to speak. Sherlock is first.

"So, John. You never told me of any of your new relationships while I was away? How many were there this time?"

John looked at Sherlock awkwardly.

"Um... none…"

"O? I am surprised because for awhile there seemed to be a girl every other week" Sherlock stated slowly raising an eyebrow in interest.

"I just gave up I guess."

"Well that's discouraging."

"How so?" Watching John's expression, Sherlock attempts to find the reason while his eyes drift to the ceiling.

"I was hoping someone would distract you. Keep you away from visiting my grave all the time; it was depressing to watch, John."

"I felt depressed. I guess I just thought no one would want someone who was broken, so I just didn't try."

Moving his eyes back to John, quietly.

"I am sorry I put you in such a state John, really. I did not enjoy watching you either."

"It's okay, you're here now and that's all that matters" John breathes out, then checking his watch

"I think it is time to wash the dye out now."

"Brilliant", enthusiastically Sherlock gave a small smile. Turning away from John, Sherlock bends back over in the shower, turning on the faucet letting the water flow over his head as the remaining dye washed out. Enjoying the water rush over him, Sherlock keeps his eyes closed, steam slowly fills the room.

"Is the excess all out" sputtered the detective.

Observing interestingly, moving closer, John looks down at Sherlock's hair, though his eyes cannot help but strain along the detective's neck and shoulders. Shaking his head, he quickly recovers.

"You need to rinse it just a bit longer; the instructions say that you need to wait until the water runs clear. Let me help you."

His fingers invaded Sherlock's mass, scrubbing slowly as more dye poured out, allowing Sherlock to enter s small state of content and calm. 'Yes this is rather enjoyable.'

Good, I think it's all out now", John grabs a towel and hands it to Sherlock looking away quickly trying to not give himself away.

"Thanks", Rubbing the towel through his head, round the back and chest, Sherlock continued, "Chop chop time?"

"I guess so" grabbing the scissors with not much confidence.

"Come on, come on." John looks over, finding a slightly bouncy Sherlock, smiling in excitement. 'I want to look good, especially for John.' 'I still would not change a thing about him' John believes, 'But what ever makes him happy.'

"Alright calm down. How short do you want it?"

"Hmm...What do you want? Raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know, it's your hair", John says tiredly.

"I want you to choose John, pick what is best for me ok? Your preference, hm? How about like that actor fellow or something?"

"I suppose that's good..." sighs out John. Moving forward John tries to hold the scissors steadily as Sherlock closes his eyes in patience. As the cutting begins Sherlock's feels his hair fall freely about him, landing softly near his feet. After 10 minutes or so John steps back, carefully examine to be sure nothing was amiss.

"Okay I'm done", he concludes.

"Sherlock opens his eyes, looking down at the orangey curls on the floor, running his fingers around his scalp; he stands up and looks in the mirror.

"What do you think" slowly asks John.

A different face, but observing eyes stare back at him. Sherlock felt he was staring at a familiar stranger, an almost paradox in his opinion.

"Well done John. Very happy with the results."

"I'm glad you like it."

And there it was! John's eyes could not fool Sherlock as he saw a shift of shadows within. With this new confidence, Sherlock was feeling a little ambitious, maybe even a bit eager. Stepping toward John, Sherlock stretched his arms against the wall, palms holding him up causing John to back up into the corner.

"But what do you think, John Watson? His eyes flashed over John, who began to find his voice tighten, unsure what to do with himself. Where could he go?

"What are you doing?"

"You didn't answer my question, John."

"You didn't answer mine either."

"Another question to answer your question. Did you not want to see anyone else because you were waiting for someone to return?"

"What? What do you mean?"

"Maybe someone who walked out of your life", asks a mysterious voice. 'God Sherlock what are you doing?' John found a hand holding his chin, forcing him to tilt his head up at the New Sherlock.

"You missed me didn't you…"

"Of course I missed you. Please Sherlock what is-"

"How much then" demanded New Sherlock.

"I-I-I don't...what are you talking about..." he managed to stutter out.

"You're stuttering, you never do that unless nervous" replied the serpent coolly. Of course I'm nervous, you are standing far too close to me."

New Sherlock uses the tip of his thumb to rub the bottom of John's quivering lip.

"Isn't this what you wanted though? You said he and I looked alike and I saw you flustered at his...hm...handsomeness? Am I not correct?"

"Um... yeah, he is handsome..." John could feel a force field begin to envelop them, not knowing what to do. Conflicting thoughts and desires he was both curious at New Sherlock, yet for some reason terrified by this towering power.

"Well, don't I look like him now", Sherlock continued moving his face down closer to John's, who in turn pressed his own hand and arms against the wall, swallowing quickly.

"Ye-yeah, I suppose..."

"Good", Sherlock placed his forehead against John's, "Nervous?"

"Ye-yes."

For a moment Sherlock remains still as a small shiver runs through John. Analyzing his face again, he eyes dart all over John, causing him to almost feel exposed. Instead New Sherlock closes his eyes, releasing a sigh, allowing the consulting detective to return. 'He doesn't want to do it this way.'

"Ok then."

Wanting to escape the entrapping room Sherlock lets go of John as if his skin scalded his fingers, stepping away, picking up his shirt and re buttoning it in some frustration.

"Sorry", he mumbles, "Thinking illogically or something."

With his freedom John relaxes, still bewildered and confused by the situation.

"Why are you sorry?"

"Never mind John", refusing to look in John's direction, hiding his self anger. John sighed and began cleaning up the hair that had fallen on the bathroom floor and mulling through about what had just happened. He was very perplexed. He was sure that Sherlock had been about to kiss him, but now he wasn't sure what was going on. Meanwhile Sherlock gathered the cups, striding or nearly running to the sink to clean them out. Midway through he pauses, gripping the edges of the sink entering his Mind Palace, trying to think. 'Am I missing something? A clue I forgot? Something I overlooked?' As soon as the bathroom was clean John walked towards the sitting room looking for Sherlock. Although he hears John in the room behind him, Sherlock is stuck on the spot not wanting to ever leave it. In frustration he grips the sides of the sink harder for why couldn't he figure this out. Sherlock Holmes, the genius consulting detective! Stumped by one man's emotions and reactions? Walking into the kitchen John watches Sherlock stand at the sink.

"Sherlock-"

"What", he answers gruffly, cutting him off still staring into space.

"I-I think we should talk."

"About what", snapping on the 't'.

"You know exactly what. About what just happened."

"Extra dye must have soaked through my scalp and into my brain to muddle it up, sorry John." Annoyed.

"I don't understand why you keep saying that."

"Saying what?" He finally turns around, still thinking, growing angrier at himself.

"Apologizing!" John starts to get a bit frustrated himself*

"Because...because…" 'Words, Sherlock, words!' The anxiety was choking him, speeding up his heart attempting to find the correct answer.

"I was wrong with my deductions that's all, you know I hate being wrong."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Then forget it John." Sherlock presses his hand against his temple, headache. Quickly walking past John, he sits in his chair, closing his eyes trying to ease his mind and concentrate.

"Sherlock, talk to me. I can't understand what is going on if you don't talk to me."

Sherlock was never good with feelings, he either showed them too little or too much. He desires to say something spiteful to John, make him go away to leave him in solitude. Alone.

"Please, John I thought I was being clever but I was just acting foolish is all ok" Sherlock strains out.

"Why do you think you were being foolish?"

Truth or no truth? Quickly Sherlock created a dozen different phrases he knew would make John angry, pushing him away was Sherlock's only defense. But he fails.

"Well I thought...the new look would have satisfied you, made you feel better, but I assume not."

Realization strikes John as he watches the fretful creature in front him press his hands together in a thoughtful position, refusing to look in John's direction. Attempting to think of any sign he could have given Sherlock, to make him think this. He supposed there was a few things he'd done, but he couldn't think of anything he'd done right before Sherlock ran or more specifically jumped off.

"What makes you think it doesn't?"

"Because before… that you didn't-" It finally occurred to him. He probably scared John, moving too fast catching him way too off guard. Sherlock searches for his voice.

"I thought you may have ...liked me more, like this...find me...attractive?"

"Sherlock, why would you think you'd have to change what you look like for me to find you attractive?"

John now has captured his full attention.

"So then...you do?"

John blushed.

"Yes of course I do, what made you think I didn't?"

"Because before...be- before..." 'You almost took a suicidal pill, blew up a bombed vest, and jumped off a building, but when in the presence of Doctor John Watson you can't talk? Stupid', Sherlock thought, punishing himself.

"Before it seemed you didn't want to..."

"Before, when?"

"Back there..." Sherlock manages to say while burying his hands in his face rubbing his eyes.

"How exactly did I seem like I didn't want to? I didn't mean to come off that way." Even though Sherlock had his eyes covered, John looked away from Sherlock's face. In response Sherlock peers above his fingers.

Because you looked so frightened maybe? You just did not seem...enthusiastic."

"I was just very nervous, that's what happens when someone you fancy has you pressed against a wall about to kiss you."

Sherlock's heart skips a beat.

"O…Wait …John...you..."

"Yes Sherlock, I fancy you." The words flow out quickly, pushing away the heavy boulder resting on John's chest, allowing him to finally breathe properly for the first time.

"...Me too John..." Sherlock replies, clearing his throat.

The silence between them is crushing. John looked at Sherlock, not knowing what to do next. Finally John picks up some courage.

"You know, it has nothing to do with the way you look… well... maybe a little with the way you look..."

As he rises from his seat Sherlock chuckles, walking slowly over to John.

"Want to try again?"

John's calm facade disappeared as Sherlock got closer and he was once again very nervous. 'Did I really fight in a war? So rubbish.'

"I-I-yes."

"Ok", utters the smirk.

Sherlock takes his left hand, pulling John into him, then wrapping his arms tightly around him.

"Just relax", he hisses out.

Relaxation slips away in John's attempt, yet his breathing was quickly becoming labored. Sherlock leans slightly back, looking up John again running his left hand through John's hair, carefully and still ever so carefully tilting his head back.

"Just...let ...go..."

Slowly leaning in, lightly kissing John's lips, Sherlock pulls slightly back grinning although John's hands we suddenly threaded through Sherlock's now short hair and he pulled his head forward. To steady himself Sherlock grips a little tighter and after another moment he pulls away.

"See, still alive."

John laughed, his breathing still recovering.

"Just barely."

Turning his head back to the bathroom, Sherlock tilts it back in that direction.

"More?"

"Oh god yes."

Sherlock grins, pulling John along, hand in hand as both eagerly stride together to their destination.