Six months after Sherlock's return, things were back to the way they used to be. Sherlock and John were solving cases, Mrs. Hudson was as cheery as ever, and that slight unresolved sexual tension lingered in the rooms of 221B Baker Street.
Sherlock and John were just finishing a case when John received a text.
New device arrived at NSY. Come check it out. Don't bring Sherlock. –GL
John considered the possibilities of Lestrade's calling of John, alone. "He might not want Sherlock to ruin it with his deduction..or his sarcasm.." he thought. "I guess I'll find out."
"I'm heading out, need anything from Tesco?" John bellowed to his flatmate's room.
"Where are you going?"
"Out. I'll be back soon. Do you need anything?" John asked flatly.
Sherlock raised an eyebrow, but let it go. Ever since his return, he always felt a little guilty when he pestered John. "I'm alright, thanks."
John's head tilted in surprise when he heard the 'thanks', but wanted to find out what Lestrade wanted. He took his coat and left.
"You're kidding. Visual brainwaves?" John gasped.
"Yep. Hook these little stickers up to someone's head, and you can sit there and watch what they're thinking. I didn't even know our scientists were working on this." Lestrade claimed.
"Damn. W-Why did you need just me? I'm sure Sherlock would love to see this."
"He can see it later. I thought you could have a little fun and explore that mind house of his." Lestrade smirked.
"Palace," John corrected.
"Right. Anyway, I need it in a week to use in the lab. It's completely safe, but be careful. Oh, but he has to be asleep."
"You got it. Thanks." John took the odd device and walked out.
Walking up the steps to his flat, John stopped. "How am I going to go about this?" he thought to himself.
'Hey Sherlock, can I invade your mind and learn your deepest secrets?' or, 'Hey, Sherlock, can I sit next to you while you sleep and visualize your dreams?'
No, that wouldn't work. But he couldn't do it without Sherlock knowing.
"What's that?"
Shit. John was too busy thinking to hide the device in his jacket, or even pick up a bag to hold it in.
"Oh, um.. n-new device from New Scotland Yard. Lestrade's letting me test-drive it." John muttered.
"I see. I'm assuming it has to do with brainwaves." Sherlock deduced.
"Yeah. It can turn thoughts into images. Go figure."
"And I'm also assuming you want to test it on me." Sherlock said dryly.
"Oh, uh.. I-I didn't expect you-"
"It's fine." Sherlock interrupted. "I'm quite experienced at withholding private thoughts. I can assure you that whatever you find will be boring. Plus, I trust you."
John couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face. "Oh, but it has to be while you're asleep. That's what Lestrade said."
"Alright."
Sherlock didn't have a hard time falling asleep that night. He decided the couch would be best. It would pose for an awkward situation if John had to sit next to his bed to decipher his thoughts.
Just as his eyes were closing, Sherlock entertained the possibility that John would discover his private thoughts. His fantasies, his desires, his human emotions. Sherlock, though he wouldn't admit it to anyone, has developed quite the military kink over the years of knowing Dr. Watson. When he pulled rank at Baskerville, it took all Sherlock had not to tackle him. Something about the thought of John wearing nothing but his dog tags made Sherlock's stomach flip.
"I could pretend to sleep," he thought. "Then I could control my thoughts."
Decided.
He knew John could wait all night, and would wait until the hours of night people are usually at their deepest slumber.
Sherlock lay in bed, trying not to fall asleep, trying to recall thoughts that he would be okay with John seeing, but this case they had been working on was very tiresome, and very draining. Sherlock closed his eyes, and unwillingly fell asleep.
Around 3:30, John pulled his chair over to the couch by Sherlock's head. He unraveled the stickers and their wires and placed them in their designated positions, as instructed by the diagram on the back of the device.
John turned the device on, and watched as it lit up, filling the living room with dim colors.
"This is going to be interesting." He thought to himself.
What John didn't take into consideration was how long it would take Sherlock to start dreaming.
After about 45 minutes, John grew weary. His head was resting on his hand, which was held up on his elbow, which was propped on his knee. He started to doze until he heard some muffled words from the device.
He immediately shot up and directed his attention to the screen. It was like watching television; everything was in color, as if Sherlock's thoughts were being projected for family movie night.
Sherlock was standing on a rooftop, talking to Moriarty.
John's heart sank. He looked away. He knew what was going to happen next.
This had all been explained to him by Sherlock upon his return.
The memory eventually faded and another image appeared onto the screen. This time, it was as if John was looking through Sherlock's eyes. He was looking at a specimen through a microscope, when Mike walked in with John. Sherlock glanced over to John, and looked him up and down.
"I remember that," John whispered as he watched Sherlock watching him. It was truly an odd sight. "That was when we first met."
That memory also faded eventually, and suddenly Sherlock was a toddler, running around his house wearing a pirate hat.
John blushed at the adorable sight and a giant grin took over his face. This was too good to be true.
The next memory to appear was Sally. "Why would Donovan be important?" John thought.
These were just clips of each time Sally called him a freak.
"Bitch." John muttered. He hated the way Donovan treated Sherlock. You'd think she'd be a little grateful. He made her job easier, after all.
Another memory took over the screen. This was also a series of short memories, but they were all of John.
John leaned into the screen, and watched as he discovered how much Sherlock watched John. Really watched John. There was even a brief one where John was sleeping. Sherlock had watched John while he slept.
John was flattered, for lack of a better term. This was a huge compliment all on its own.
When these went away, John did get a little sad. He liked being flattered, and giggled to himself.
This next memory was blurry. He could definitely see an arm, but that didn't get him anywhere. He looked closer and gasped.
It wasn't a memory.
He had jumped head first into Sherlock Holmes's fantasies.
This was a man he was seeing, but was it just Sherlock? He couldn't tell. A couple of seconds later, the Sherlock still sleeping on the couch shifted.
"..John.." he moaned softly.
John's eyes widened as his head snapped back and forth between dreamer and dream.
He stopped at the screen and noticed something shiny. A necklace? What was that?
Dog tags.
"Oh my God." John said, almost too loud. He cupped a hand over his mouth and his heart began to race.
The image became clearer, and John could tell this was a sexual fantasy, from Sherlock's point of view. He is laying on a bed next to a naked John Watson. Well, almost naked, aside from the dog tags.
This, John decided, was too good to be true.
Sherlock, in the fantasy, flopped over on top of John, who was smiling. The image went dark for a second, and John looked at sleeping Sherlock. He puckered his lips just slightly, indicating that a kiss had just taken place.
"How cool." John smiled. He looked back at the screen. That memory had faded, unfortunately.
The next image on the device was a large crowd of people, seated in white chairs. The view panned out a tad, and John could depict an altar.
"Is this a wedding? Who's getting married?" John thought.
At the altar stood John Watson, in full tuxedo. I'm a little close to the middle to be the best man.. Am I the best man? Who's getting married?
Walking down the altar was Sherlock Holmes, accompanied by his brother, Mycroft.
No way.
When Sherlock and Mycroft made their way to the front, Mycroft shook John's hand, gave his brother a kiss on the cheek, and took his place next to the priest.
No way in hell.
The Priest began welcoming everyone in celebrating the love between these two men, John Hamish Watson and Sherlock Holmes. There was no sound in this, but the Priest made clear gestures to the two men, who were now facing each other.
John's heart sank again, but this time out of passion. Sherlock Holmes fantasized about marrying his best friend, his flatmate. This was way more meaningful than the sexual fantasy.
By this time, the Priest was finished with his whole spiel, and Sherlock and John exchanged vows.
John was disappointed that he couldn't hear what Sherlock had to say, but by now, the view was almost cinematic. The "camera" kept going between John and Sherlock, and there was clear emotion in Sherlock's face.
He was smiling.
John's hand made its way to his heart, and held it there as he watched Sherlock put a ring on his finger. John put a ring on Sherlock's, the Priest finished the ceremony, and Sherlock and John exchanged a kiss.
John couldn't put a finger on what feeling was resonating deep in his stomach. He didn't want to leave this happy moment.
The kiss was extremely meaningful, and when they broke apart, everyone stood and cheered.
John looked over at sleeping Sherlock, who was indeed still sleeping.
A smile spread across his flatmate's face, and John's eyebrows rose in disbelief. Sherlock Holmes, the Sherlock Holmes, was dreaming about marrying John, and was smiling as he dreamt. John didn't want to watch anymore. He gingerly pulled the stickers off of his flatmate's head, causing the screen to go dark, and placed them in their designated places. He set the device on the table, patted Sherlock on the head, and went to bed.
An enormous grin wouldn't leave his face as he drifted off to sleep.
"JOHN WAKE UP!" Sherlock bellowed.
John shot up in bed, looking around for immediate signs of danger. No fire, no sirens. He groaned and pulled himself out of bed. He looked at the clock, 8:38. He groaned again.
Standing right outside his door was his flatmate.
"What did you see?" Sherlock demanded.
"I'm sorry?" John was still half awake.
"What. Did. You. See. John." Sherlock grew impatient.
"Oh, on the machine!" John's stomach turned over when his mind was replenished with memories of last night.
"Yes, the machine. H-how did it go?" Sherlock realized that he was being a little rough, so he pulled back.
"Oh, fine, fine. Why do you sound so alarmed?" John tilted his head.
"I just, I didn't trust myself to hold my private thoughts back, so I planned to pretend to be asleep and control what you saw. It would have worked if I hadn't actually fallen asleep." Sherlock scratched at his sleeve in discomfort. He worried about what John could have seen.
"It wasn't that bad, Sherlock." John reassured. "We just have a lot of talking to do." John smiled, looking up at his flatmate.
Sherlock massaged the bridge between his eyes. He didn't even wear glasses. This was just so he wouldn't have to look into those big, dark blue eyes.