( A/N There will now be weekly updates. I didn't write the lyrics. They are the lyrics to Britney Spears' Criminal. )
I lay on my bed , face down.
" Bored" I said loudly, to anyone who cared. I had finished all experiments, solved all the cases and deduced John to the point of murder. Although a homicide would have given me something to do, it appears that I would've been the object of his anger. So I had confined myself to my bedroom.
As I pondered the peculiar human emotions, and the way people were around me, I came up with a new experiment. Was John here? I listened for a minute. There was a clatter. Yes. He was. I picked up my gun, shooting six bullets into the wall. I heard a crash, and a thunder of footsteps.
" Sherlock! What the hell are you doing? " he gestured to my wall." Very mature " There was a yellow smiley face, and I had shot bullets into the shape of it. I grinned a little. Then I stood up.
" John," I said, moving closer to him. One step. " How would you feel about participating in one of my experiments? " He looked shocked , and repulsed.
" Not like that! Just a study in feelings, reactions and things like that" I took another step, closing the space between us.
" Uhh... Um ... Yes?" he said , staring at my eyes. I put a hand on the small of his back , and the other on his shoulder. I bowed my head, lightly kissing along his neck, up his throat, to his jawline, along his chin. I moved so his body would fit to mine, taking his pulse and brushing all along his arms in one move. I kissed back down his neck, feeling him relax into me. I gently tentatively flicked a tongue out, drawing it across his throat, causing him to pull away.
"Too soon?" I said lightly, not relenting my hold. I studied his expression. " can I borrow your laptop?" I let him go, walking out the door. He began to mumble a reply, but I cut across him.
" Thanks" I walked to the lounge, picking it up and sitting in my chair. I logged the new piece of information as I looked up the different ways to kiss him, and to evoke the possible reactions of love. Hmmm...
John
I stood breathless, long after he left. That was...amazing. He was an amazing kisser. I cursed myself. I wasn't gay. It was just an experiment... But good God, it felt so good. I dared to think... No, he was married to his work, he had said so long ago. I went to find him, leaning over his shoulder to find him looking at... The laptop snapped shut.
" What was thaa..." he cut me off by taking my face in his hands, and kissing me on the nose, turning around and kissing me on the cheeks. He gestured to my hand.
" may I? " my stomach felt funny. Kind of... Fluttery. I grumbled.
" it's the first time you've asked." he looked up at me, shirt ruffled , hair out of place, pale cheeks blushing.
" I'm sorry John. I'll ask next time." and he took my hand , intertwining it with his own. He took his other hand and placed it on my back. My heart thumped harder. He looked at me, eyes full of innocence. He closed his eyes, kissing our hands, my neck, my shoulders, my forehead. He drew back abruptly. He searched my face, stroking a thumb over my wrist. He shut his eyes again, placing his lips on mine. His warm breath was like mine, it came in short shallow gasps. His lips moved, moulding to mine. His tongue flicked out, teasing and gentle. It rested on my lips , asking permission. My hands were twisted in his hair. His tongue danced with mine, warm and wet, wrong yet somehow right. I reminded myself that this was Sherlock Holmes, the man who kept human heads and thumbs and in the fridge. He fell back from me, his hair a tangled mess, his pale cheeks a little more normal looking and his breathing fast. He ran his hands through his hair, fixing it and straightened his shirt out as Mrs Hudson came in. She saw me standing there, gaping at Sherlock, with my pink cheeks and twisted jumper.
" I'll just leave you to it then.." she backed off.
" Sherlock." I panted. " what are we? What're we telling the world is happening? " he turned to face me.
Sherlock.
I thought. Did he love me? Was I emotionally attached? Was there any rationality behind my unplanned behaviour? I tackled the easiest one first. I recalled the memories of him, flushed and smiling when I had pulled away. Yes. I think that is correct. The next one... Was I? I used to be so sure that emotion was a weakness, something to shy away from, to block out, but now...I wasn't so sure. And the last one... As far as I could see, there was no rationality. But I was beginning to see that there was no rationality, no reason, no pattern when it came to emotions. Maybe... Maybe... No. This is an experiment. I have to keep myself focused.
" Sherlock!" yelled John. I sat up, startled. He stood in front of me, arms crossed and waiting for an answer. Apparently the normal, human time for answering a question had come and gone.
" We are going to stay inside until we have decided ourselves." I sounded slightly like a petulant child.
* two days later*
John sat on the sofa, engrossed in rubbish late night television and a bottle of beer. I sat by him, wearing only shorts and a dressing gown, like him. I slid my hand into his. He didn't even look at me. I frowned. I guess I would have to try harder. I sat facing him, holding his hand and with one hand around his neck. I kissed his cheek, and he turned around. I put my arms around his waist as he put his around my shoulders. I kissed a slow trail down his nose, stopping at the tip and beginning at the hollow at the base of his neck. My hands began to slide into his dressing gown as I took it off him and caressed his chest. In return, he began to kiss me back.
John
I pulled us down, taking off his dressing gown and marvelling at his perfect chest, so pale it could have been carved from marble. I kissed his mouth, my lips succumbing to his overwhelming charm. His hands held me tight to him. My hands curled in his hair as his settled on the small of my back. Our legs were tangled together, and we lay on our sides. I broke the kiss, and he kissed all along my jawline, teasing me as I ached for his irresistible touch. He lifted his eyes to mine, and whispered.
" John. May I?" his hands were resting on my back, moving downwards. I could only nod as he pulled me into another passionate kiss. I gripped his arms, his back tightly in order to get him as close as I could. I tucked my head under his chin. I sighed.
Sherlock.
As always, I barely slept. I awoke pressed against John ,our bodies sweaty and limp , with him murmuring a word over and over again. I disentangled myself from him as gently as I could, wincing as I knocked a new bruise. That's strange. I didn't remember getting these.. I picked up my discarded shorts and dressing gown, pulling them on as I picked up a pencil, paper and my violin. I stood by the window, first playing , then writing. I worried about the blurring lines in the relationship. I put all my doubts and possibilities about John into the music I wrote. I grabbed my phone, pressed record and played my new music
As John opened his eyes, I played the recording, handed him tea and his clothes. I was, of course, already dressed. Once John had woken up, I picked up the violin, and asked him a question.
" John. Would you like me to teach you how to play the violin? "
He nodded. I beckoned him forward, and he stood in a circle of my arms, holding the violin like I did, feeling the warmth of his close body. I giggled as he made the violin screech.
" no, John. Like this.."
* several hours later*
I put the violin down. I sighed. I needed to be alone in the silence.
" John."
"mm?"
" can I have some space?" he left the room, looking strangely at me. I exhaled. I needed to talk to him, tell him that it was still just an experiment... I have allowed myself to feel, and I must not slip up again. I needed to be more guarded, and not get so carried away. I thought of how to word this to John. I had to put it just right, so he'd understand but would stay here. I sat down, sipping at a cup of tea.
" John? Come here, I need to talk to you." he walked in, looking very confused. " Last night... I felt something. Something special... But I want you to know that I still consider myself married to my work, and all this is simply an experiment. And what on earth is this?" I pulled out a sheet of paper from his laptop case. John blushed .
" it's a uh...song I wrote. You could read it...?"
He is a hustler
He's no good at all
He is a loser, he's a bum (bum bum bum)
He lies, he bluffs, he's unreliable.
He is a sucker with a gun (gun gun gun)
I know you told me I should stay away.
I know you said he's just a dog astray.
He is a bad boy with a tainted heart
and even I know this ain't smart.
But Mama I'm in love with a criminal
And this type of love isn't rational, it's physical,
Mama, please don't cry, I will be alright,
All reason aside I just can't deny,
Love the guy
He is a villain of the devil's law,
He is a killer just for fun (fun, fun, fun),
The man's a snitch and unpredictable,
He's got no conscience, he got none
(none, none, none)
All I know should let go but no
'Cause he's a bad boy with a tainted heart
and even I know this ain't smart
But Mama I'm in love with a criminal
And this type of love isn't rational, it's physical,
Mama, please don't cry, I will be alright,
All reason aside I just can't deny,
Love the guy
And he's got my name tattooed on his arm, his lucky charm,
So I guess it's okay,
He's with me,
And I hear people talk (people talk)
Try to make remarks, keep us apart
But I don't even hear, I don't care
'Cause Mama I'm in love with a criminal
And this type of love isn't rational, it's physical,
Mama, please don't cry, I will be alright,
All reason aside I just can't deny,
Love the guy
Mama, I'm in love with a criminal
And this type of love isn't rational, it's physical,
Mama, please don't cry, I will be alright,
All reason inside I just can't deny,
Love the guy
" and who is this 'criminal', this direction of your affections? " I asked.
He blushed.
" um. You." he mumbled. I laughed. Time to shut away emotions. And I kissed his forehead, making notes.
" also, why have I got bruises? " I asked, gesturing to the purplish shapes on my arms. John said nothing, but walked over and laid his fingers on my arm, showing the obvious similarity between the marks and his hand. I rolled up his sleeve, matching each one of my long, slender fingers to the coloured marks on his forearm. I heard his gasp. I didn't look up, keeping to my new regime . I pressed my head to his belly. The lines were blurred, and something needed to fix that. But how I could I, when John was the one I used to fix me.
" Look at us." he murmured. " Each of us using action and murders to get our highs, and look where we go after a couple of days without it. " I slid my hand under his shirt, lifting it up slightly. I imagined the scene from another's eyes. We looked too much like lovers, like a couple. That was it. We needed to get away.
John
" C'mon, Sherlock. We need food." I put my head around his door. He was still in his pyjamas. He grumbled, " you may need food, but to me it's all transport. " I raised my eyebrows, but didn't press the matter. Instead a texted a couple of mates, and we went out for a drink. When I came back, the house was filled with the smell of smoke. I feared the worst.
" Sherlock! " I yelled " Sherlock!" The smoke thickened, and I saw a hazy shape move towards me. I began to shake, and drew my gun from my pocket with trembling hands.
" I'll shoot! Stay back!" my voice shook almost as much as my hands. The figure moved closer, so I closed my eyes and squeezed the trigger. Blinding pain shot through my foot. A face emerged from the smoke.
" John? What're yo- " he stopped short when he saw my foot. I crumpled to the floor, taking off my shoe and sock with hands still shaking.
" Don't just stand there! Help me! " Sherlock bent down to brush aside my fumbling hands , picking me up and extinguishing the cigarette in his hand. I breathed in deeply. I kept reminding myself that it was ok, that I'd seen worse. As we entered the lounge, I began to cough. This was where the most smoke was. I coughed out instructions to Sherlock.
" Grab me my first aid kit from my room, turn on the fan and open all of the windows." I lay on the sofa, my body wracked with coughs. The smoke began to clear, and I worked on my foot. I got the bullet out, but it wasn't a clean wound. It was messy, and there was destroyed bits of my foot. I bandaged it up best I could. Sherlock was hovering behind me all the while, writing his music.
" Right." I said, sitting up and startling Sherlock. " I'm going to need a crutch, or walking sticks for about three weeks. What were you thinking? Smoking that much in the house... And I thought you had stopped that. Why now? Why? " I was starting to rant again, but Sherlock put his finger on my lips, and hushed me.
" What's that? " a wailing sound came from the street. We looked out the window, and there was no sign of anybody. Sherlock stood by the window, and opened it in order to hear it better. He looked down, and his eyes lit up.
" What is it ?" I asked again. " Sherlock? "