So I did this in one day, and published it right away, so sorry for miss typing if there is any. The miss typing in John's texts are deliberate. I did the texting part with a brillaint John on omegle, but the rest is my own work. The characters are not, though. And yes, the cover is my own work. Faber Castell Color Pencils.
Text Message from Sherlock Holmes
5:10 PM 8/4/2013:
John, where is my secret supply? SH
Text Message from John Watson
5:12 PM 8/4/2013:
Your really asking me this?
Text Message from Sherlock Holmes
5:13 PM 8/4/2013:
It's not here! If it's not in the flat then you must have took it! SH
Text Message from John Watson
5:15 PM 8/4/2013:
Or ive hidden it, why do you need it any way you've been fine for atleast a month.
Text Message from Sherlock Holmes
5:16 PM 8/4/2013:
Your typing hasn't improved a bit. SH
Text Message from John Watson
5:17 PM 8/4/2013:
You'll start getting small people dancing on a plate for refusing on. And Oi prat!
Text Message from Sherlock Holmes
5:18 PM 8/4/2013:
Where the hell did you hide it? It's mine! Why should you touch it, let along hide it? SH
Text Message from John Watson
5:19 PM 8/4/2013:
Because friends look out for eachother. And on a doctors point of view, there hardly helpful to your body are they?
Text Message from Sherlock Holmes
5:20 PM 8/4/2013:
Seriously, John. Go to a grammar class. They are mine, John! Mine! SH
Text Message from John Watson
5:22 PM 8/4/2013:
Oh that's mature.
Text Message from John Watson
5:23 PM 8/4/2013:
Am I going to return home with my pillows ripped and mattress hanging out of the window?
Text Message from Sherlock Holmes
5:23 PM 8/4/2013:
Why, is it in your bed? SH
Text Message from John Watson
5:24 PM 8/4/2013:
No, it's just a five year olds revenge technique.
Text Message from Sherlock Holmes
5:25 PM 8/4/2013:
You better tell me, or I will find out myself. SH
Text Message from John Watson
5:26 PM 8/4/2013:
No. Sherlock No.
Text Message from Sherlock Holmes
5:27 PM 8/4/2013:
You might as well come home to find out you are no longer in possession of a bed. SH
Text Message from John Watson
5:28 PM 8/4/2013:
You wouldn't dare.
Text Message from Sherlock Holmes
5:28 PM 8/4/2013:
Try me. SH
Text Message from John Watson
5:30 PM 8/4/2013:
Sherlock you bastard!
Text Message from Sherlock Holmes
5:30 PM 8/4/2013:
Just tell me John! SH
Text Message from John Watson
5:33 PM 8/4/2013:
No! piss off since you've wrecked my bed I'm gonna kip at Sarah's.
Text Message from Sherlock Holmes
5:34 PM 8/4/2013:
I have not yet touched your bed. SH
Text Message from John Watson
5:36 PM 8/4/2013:
So it's a threat now? Tell me truly why you want them.
Text Message from Sherlock Holmes
5:36 PM 8/4/2013:
I don't want them, I need them! SH
Text Message from John Watson
5:37 PM 8/4/2013:
Why do you bloody need them!
Text Message from Sherlock Holmes
5:37 PM 8/4/2013:
Because I'm bored! SH
Text Message from John Watson
5:38 PM 8/4/2013:
Not a good enough excuse sorry. I'm coming back and my bed better be still there!
Text Message from Sherlock Holmes
5:40 PM 8/4/2013:
John. SH
Text Message from Sherlock Holmes
5:40 PM 8/4/2013:
Please. SH
Text Message from John Watson
5:41 PM 8/4/2013:
Sherlock.
Text Message from Sherlock Holmes
5:42 PM 8/4/2013:
See? I'm asking nicely. Please, tell me where my secret supply is? Please, John. SH
Text Message from John Watson
5:43 PM 8/4/2013:
That's all very well and good, but I can't help.
Text Message from Sherlock Holmes
5:44 PM 8/4/2013:
Ugh! Why don't you break! Can't you see that I don't want you to help me with my addiction? SH
Text Message from Sherlock Holmes
5:45 PM 8/4/2013:
It's my life! And my health! SH
Text Message from John Watson
5:46 PM 8/4/2013:
And I don't want to see you in a body bag laying in Barts either! So don't give me that life crap when I'm the only one who cares about you!
Text Message from Sherlock Holmes
5:50 PM 8/4/2013:
Fine! Then I'm taking your gun! SH
Text Message from John Watson
5:51 PM 8/4/2013:
And doing what? Threatening Mrs Hudson?!
Text Message from Sherlock Holmes
5:52 PM 8/4/2013:
Don't be ridiculous, John. I want to shoot the wall. SH
Text Message from John Watson
5:54 PM 8/4/2013:
Then…go for it. I'll just text Greg to see if he wants to stay for a beer when he comes to arrest you.
Text Message from Sherlock Holmes
5:55 PM 8/4/2013:
You wouldn't dare. SH
Text Message from John Watson
5:56 PM 8/4/2013:
Try me.
Text Message from Sherlock Holmes
5:57 PM 8/4/2013:
You would risk putting me in jail to save your stupid wall? And here I was thinking you care about me. SH
Text Message from John Watson
5:59 PM 8/4/2013:
Of course not don't be stupid. Your putting yourself in jail for firing the damn thin, the police hear the shots, trace it back and arrest you for wasting police time.
Text Message from Sherlock Holmes
6:01 PM 8/4/2013:
And you would be the one who would make sure they are close enough to hear the shots fired. SH
Text Message from John Watson
6:16 PM 8/4/2013:
I'm done arguing with you. Are you going to let me in?
Text Message from Sherlock Holmes
6:18 PM 8/4/2013:
Shut up! I'm thinking. SH
Text Message from John Watson
6:19 PM 8/4/2013:
I've got your supply in my hand you tosser.
John heard a click, and then saw a Sherlock launching himself at him. "Fuck, Sherlock! Get off of me!" he shouted, lifting his arm to hit Sherlock's neck to push him away. He might have been out of the army for a few years, but when he felt he was in danger, his instincts would come back. He pushed his arm as the man scrabbled at him, the long, elegant fingers brushing against his lips and cheeks as he tried to grab John.
"Stop. Fighting me! John, what the hell are you doin-Ah!" Sherlock's voice cut off as he winced in pain from having his hands twisted behind his back, and his ribs digging into the cold wall that his face was now plastered to. He was definitely getting a bruise on his left cheek bone. "Forgot I was a soldier, eh? John snarled, fighting the lanky man against the wall. Hearing Mrs. Hudson squawk at them, John went to pull back lightly, but missed Sherlock's elbow. They were dangerously close to the staircase. He gasped as he felt his bad leg give in "Sherlock" he breathed, scrabbling for a grip. His hand slipped off Sherlock's silk nightgown and he fell, tumbling back down the wooden stairs. He heard a scream coming from Mrs. Hudson before drifting into unconsciousness.
John woke up, with a bloody headache. It felt like he was being hit on the back of his head over and over again. Then he saw the medicine and unused bandages laying on the white bedside table, and then the black mop of curly hair that was Sherlock's. The bloody git had been sleeping with his giant head on John's right leg.
John licked his dry lips, coughing lightly at his dry throat "Oi…" He said softly, placing a hand on the black halo of curls, making the other man stir and stare at him. "Your big head's on my leg." He managed a smile.
"John…Thank God you are alright." There was a small hint of guilt in his hoarse voice, and his pale blue eyes were red from fatigue, or…tears? No. Not possible.
"T-The hell happened?" he breathed looking around the white hospital. "Sherlock…How long was I sleeping?" he asked, looking at the cards on his dresser. There was a small vase of orchids near the window with a white ribbon.
"You fell down the stairs, and hit your head on the wall, resulting a small fracture in the skull. You have been unconscious for nearly three days now. How is your head? Does it hurt too much?" Sherlock wasn't going to stir from his current position. Hospital's floor didn't look comfortable, and it did look cold, John thought. "A bit. Just a bad migraine." He said, looking at the detective. "Sherlock, are you ok?" he asked.
"Am I okay? It's my fault you are laying in this hideous bed, and all you can think of is my health?" Sherlock's voice was trembling with passion, and so was his whole body. Tears started building their way up, up to his eyelids and then down, down his cheeks.
"It's alright, Sherlock. Shh" he said soothingly, lacing his hand with the detective's. "Look, I'm fine. It's just a bad headache. I can probably be released tomorrow, so stop worrying about me." He rubbed his thumb across the pale, surprisingly soft skin.
Sherlock tensed a bit, but then his whole body unclenched, and he looked more relaxed. He then let out a loud sigh, and let his head fall on John's leg again. "I never wanted to be the one who hurt you, John." He whispered.
John sighed in reply and threaded a hand through his friend's soft hair, rubbing at the scalp. Sherlock unconsciously let out a soft purr in response, making John chuckle.
John wasn't released the day after, but later that day, thanks to a certain angry detective who demanded to have his John taken care of at home. The ride home was quiet, as there was not much left to say. Sherlock deliberately denied looking at John, but he held on to his hand all the way. It was back at home that things started to get tense. Always back at home.
John really wanted to punch him. It took a lot of effort not to. "Why," He tried to control his voice. "Why the hell did you do that?"
Sherlock stared at him, his eyes a tone darker than the normal, so was his voice when he began to reply "That's what people do when they want to show they care, right?"
Did you kiss your best friend to prove to them that you care? "No. Sherlock, that's…that's not what you do. You don't just-you can't just go ahead and…do that!"
"But you didn't pull back, and your pupils are dilated, and your pulse had quickened. You. Liked. It. Am I wrong?"
Panic. Panic quickens your pulse. "Yes! You are, Sherlock! And so is what you did! I was just surprised!"
Sherlock looked a bit taken aback, but then he fixed his stare "I am never wrong." Then he moved his head forward again, and John tried his best not to kick him in his better places. He couldn't push his own head back because of the bullet abused wall he was currently pinned to, so instead put hand behind Sherlock's head, and pulled at his hair. Sherlock suddenly lost all his charm, his voice high pitched from his hair being pulled mercilessly. "Ah! John, let go of my hair! Why do you always have to attack me?"
"You always attack me first!" John shouted, pulling a bit tighter. "John, you are ripping my scalp off! Let me go!" John was alarmed at Sherlock's panicking voice, so he suddenly let go, making Sherlock stumble back. The mad genius took his head in his hand, still wincing from his hair being pulled on his sensitive scalp so harshly. He then looked at John, who was still huffing from the struggle, let out a furious grunt, turned on his heels, and stormed up to his room, slamming the door behind him.
Sherlock kept hiding in his room for the nearly the rest of the week. John was starting to get worried. Was he even still alive? He had not been eating too long. What if he had been starved to death? John shook away the stupid thoughts, and made his way up to the other man's door. This had to end now. He knocked on the door, not caring to wake up the man if he was asleep. If he wasn't eating then his body would naturally beg for more sleep. Maybe he'd been sneaking to kitchen to grab some food while John was at work? "Sherlock? Can you please open this door?" No response there. "You can't keep this up forever. We will have to talk about this."
"There is nothing left to talk about! Your thoughts were quite clear in your actions." Sherlock finally decided to respond. If he pushed him he would open the door eventually. "There is so much I want to talk about, Sherlock! This is what people do!" Sherlock frowned. He was definitely referring to the kiss. "Yes, whenever you are done taunting me!" he yelled back.
"Just…come out of your den already. You need to eat." Then there was quite, and a moment later John heart started beating faster in victory, or something else. Sherlock finally gave in for once. "Talk." He was busy looking anywhere but at John's direction. The said man huffed, amused "We have to sit down first." Sherlock strode, ridiculously gracefully down to the hall, and threw himself on his favorite couch. John sat in his favorite chair as well, and looked at the giant child that was pouting at every direction. "Sherlock…I know I responded a bit harshly to your…affections-" Sherlock fixed him with a stare "A bit?" John huffed "Alright, a lot. Just let me finish. I was just too surprised. You could've warned me first."
"Warned you?" John suddenly wished he hadn't said that in the first place. "So if I did warn you first, then you would happily oblige?"
"I…I don't know. Maybe?"
"Maybe."
"Right."
"Ah."
John's head snapped up. Sherlock was standing in front of him now. The bloody man was too quick in his moves. "Well, if that's the case, I'm warning you now." John failed in giving his confused response as Sherlock leaned in, capturing his lips with his own. John was startled at first; trying to say something but his words turned into quite moans as Sherlock ran his elegant fingers down his shirt.
"Sherlock," he managed to breath, but then his voice died as he saw his eyes. There was passion, and determination in them. He was going to get what he wanted. And he had it bloody coming to him, John thought. He would not let Sherlock take the lead, if anything. So he grabbed the man's slim waist, and pulled him down on his lap. Sherlock's knees gave in, and he fell in John's arms with a yelp. John took the opportunity, and slid his tongue between the detective's open lips, earning a loud moan. What came next was a battle between tongues, lips and teeth. Sherlock started fumbling with John's belt, trying to get this done as fast as possible, his eagerness making him fail in the process. John took his hands away, putting them around his waist. "Not like this, Sherlock. It's not something you do just to be done with it. And we are not doing this with our clothes on. Take your shirt off."
Sherlock growled at him, then licked his lips, suddenly taking notice that John was following the movement with his eyes. He smirked, deciding to turn this mess into a fun game. He slowly ran his hands on the front of his shirt, popping a button open in the way, and then another, and another. John was staring at his bare chest with pure lust. Sherlock smirked again, making the -getting rid of the bloody shirt- process even slower. John realized he couldn't take it, and his hand moved forward unconsciously, to rest on the delicious looking, milky skin. He then moved his hands up, and then down, pulling Sherlock's shirt to pool around his shoulders. Sherlock finally took off the shirt completely, looking at John's, still perfectly buttoned up. His hands ghosted around the buttons, before opening them, John sitting still all the while. Next came off the trousers, and then the pants. Only John's, of course, since Sherlock wasn't wearing any.
Then they made love, slowly and passionately. John took Sherlock in his arms as the taller man slowly rode himself on him, letting his head fall back, sensual moans escaping his lips shamelessly. The moans then shaped themselves into John's name, falling out of his mouth again and again as he rode himself to his blissful orgasm, John planting loving kisses on his body wherever he could reach. Then came John's turn to moan his name, emptying himself in Sherlock. They stayed that way for a moment, each man trying to relearn how to breathe.
Sherlock was the first one to talk, as always. "We need to clean up." He breathed into John's wounded shoulder.
"Right…" John said before slowly lifting Sherlock's head to stare into the unending blue abyss that was Sherlock's eyes. "Sherlock…that was…better than anything I could dream of." Sherlock chuckled silently "You have been dreaming about this moment, doctor?" John smiled in response "Of having sex with you? Can't say that I have, but if I had, it would come nowhere as near as this." Silence. Then, "Where does this take us then, Sherlock?"
Sherlock looked around the room, and then smiled at him: "Where do you want it to take us?"