One Shot
As the two men made their way to a street corner to hale a cab the taller, paler man lead the way glancing back at the smiling man behind him. Sherlock waved to a cab and it pulled to the cur.
"Are you sure we should take a cab?" inquired the elated doctor."You were almost just convinced to kill yourself by a serial killer cabbie. "
"The likelihood that this cabbie is also a murderer is very slim, John. And as I told you, I had the right pill. I was not about to kill myself. " Sherlock said this in a calm almost kind tone that differed from his usual tenor of boredom and aggravation. He slid into cab followed, reluctantly, by his new flatmate. "Two Twenty-One Baker Street" announced the detective and the car pulled away.
The two men sat in silence for minutes when Watson's sigh broke the silence. Sherlock jumped an infinitesimal amount at the sudden noise. He had been lost in thought and the sound of the man he was thinking of pulled his thought back to the moment.
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. I'm just…"
"Just feeling the effects of the adrenaline leaving your system." Sherlock simply stated without making eye contact with John. He was slipping back into thought.
"Yeah." sighed the war hero. With this Sherlock jerked his head in John's direction making intense eye contact that in usual circumstances would have made John quiet uncomfortable. However John was not bothered by it, the unwavering stare gave John the chance to visually consume his flatmate's crystal eyes. These eyes were just another flawless part of the young consulting detective, in John's opinion anyway.
"John?" Sherlock's voice was now a deep serious sound.
"Yes?" asked John with raised eyebrows.
"What you did back there, it was," he paused for a moment closing his eyes for a brief second, breaking their locked gazes. "It was, well, it was very kind of you and thank you." He spurted abruptly.
"I was just tr-" the pale man cut him short looking into his eyes even more intensely as if to convey something he didn't have words for.
"John," he leaned closer to his flatmate. "I need you to know I would do the same for you if the opportunity arose."
"Well that is very kin-" Sherlock cut him off again.
"John, I … I… well"
"Are tripping over your words. You may actually be in shock. Are you alright? Let me check your pulse." The tall man in the long coat rolled his eyes.
"John, I am not in shock. I am fine, in that respect. What I am trying to say is, "he was having trouble saying, it is never easy admitting defeat. Especially for Sherlock Holmes.
Before He could start again John started to understand what Sherlock was hinting at and began to smirk." You really don't know which pill was which, do you?"
"That is not the point here, John." He said dismissively. "You. There is a high probability that you just saved my life. Not many people like me enough to do something like that so I am trying to express my gratitude, John. In one shot you saved my life. One shot." He had been talking so hurried he ended breathlessly and slumped forward in his seat.
John was now the one in shock. He had not expected his new friend to let his emotions flow like this. He was speechless and stared at the pale man with the perfect cheekbones in awe and adoration. The silence thickened to an almost palpable density when John found his voice.
"You did the same for me already." He said softly looking toward Sherlock as he brought his gaze back to the army doctor.
"What?" an extremely short remark for dark haired man.
"You saved me too tonight." John said sheepishly.
"I did?" Sherlock raised one eyebrow, almost certain of what his doctor meant he hedged.
"Yes you did. I was nothing. I was a washed up army doctor with nothing to look forward to and a faux limp. What you gave me tonight is impossible to reciprocate. Sherlock, you saved my life too and I can not tell you how that feels." He said looking in the perfect eyes of the tall man with the pale skin and curly hair. "In one shot you saved my life as well." His voice was barely a whisper.
Sherlock felt a surge of emotion that he didn't let display on his face. The tips of his turned scarlet, he was glad he had the long, tousled hair to cover them up. He was unsure of how to respond to his feelings he was experiencing they were fairly new and stronger then ever before. He had only previously felt this in a much lower intensity starting the moment Doctor Watson had walked into Molly Hooper's lab the first day they met.
He was contemplating what he should do with these feelings in silence while covering every inch of the doctor's body with his eyes. John did the same to the detective.
John had the same feelings but he knew them well enough to interpret them. Wanting. He wanted Sherlock, and always had since the minute he set eyes on the man. It continued to gradually grow stronger with every amazing fact, mystery or crime the pale man deduced. John knew what he would do if the other man had the same feelings. Yet there was no way of telling. Sherlock was expressionless. His eyes skimmed John's body resting on his face many times but he remained stone faced. John didn't quiet know how to read this. Was it mutual wanting or just his way of learning things about John?
The two men looked each other over in a silence that broke when their eyes caught on the others.
"John." Stated Sherlock in a deep voice that sent a shiver down John's spine
"Sherlock." It was a matter-of-fact response. His was John and the man opposite him was Sherlock, yes this was fact. He was clinging to this fact as he made up his mind and it was made. It's like saving a life. He thought. One Shot. but he had saved quiet a few lives in Afghanistan, none made him as nervous as this.
The eye contact had not broken and Sherlock felt like their eyes may have been stuck there if he didn't know better. But he did know better, he also knew that he would not be able to execute the actions that correlated with his feelings in a manner that would be seen as correct or acceptable. He decided that if he wanted this to happen he had to let John start it but that was all he had to wait for.
Now. Thought John and with that thought he barely had to think. It seemed so natural to just lean over and place his hand on the perfect cheekbones he had been marveling at. He did this hesitating for a fraction of a second to make sure Sherlock didn't balk away from his touch, of course the taller man didn't. He pulled his patient into the kiss they had both been longing for.
Their lips touched in a swift moment and they both felt their bodies catch fire, John gasped with the feeling.
"Oh thank you, god." Sherlock whispered against John's lips.
John began to pull away but Sherlock pulled the shorter man in for another kiss. This one longer ands more physical, the wanting had taken the men. They were victims to it and none too upset about it. Their lips felt each other's full force. They moved across the other with haste learning the feel and curve of the lips they wanted most.
Sherlock felt the car slowing and knew they were about to stop in front of 221B and he didn't want it to end but didn't know if it would continue in the flat. He took that final moment to pull John in a close as he could in the small cab. He wanted to feel the army man's body beneath his. Most of all he wanted to get the real taste of the man he knew was now his.
John wanted this too. He parted their lips enough to get the taste of Sherlock's breath and it was intoxicating. John weakened and flopped back into his seat.
Sherlock chuckled and made a smirk that made John's heart flutter in it's already excited state. "If we get to do that every time a serial killer tries to kill me and you shot them, I think I will be putting us in more mortal danger very soon."
"I'm counting on it." Smiled John as he caught his breath. "Oh! We are at the flat already." He exclaimed as Sherlock handed the correct amount of money to the cabbie.
"Yes, John. We are." Sherlock calmly stated while opening the door and holding it for the man he knew was going to his for a very long time. John slid out and they stood in front of 221 just gazing at the other. "That was probably the best shot you have ever taken." Sherlock said with a smirk.
"Yeah, it was." John breathed as he turned the key to the large cobalt door. "Wait were you talking about in the cab or the murderer?" he turned to ask Sherlock on their way up the stairs to flat B.
"One shot, my dear Watson. One shot took care of both" he said pushing his doctor into the flat with his long pale fingers and a grin on his face.
One Shot. He marveled as the perfect lips crushed against his once more.