'Tis one of those more complicated moments in a person's life that always seem to pose a problem. Not the kind of complicated moments when you're caught tying the cat to a puppet, no; the kind where there are too many words. Too many unspoken words. The many unspoken words that can't be spoken because the moment is too complicated. So complicated, in fact, that you just can't seem to find the right words. The moments when nothing has been spoken, and that nothing was not said so loudly that your ears hurt. Those moments are always the most complicated, and complications always pose such a trouble.
Not a trouble to the people involved, per say. No, it is a trouble to the people's minds. More specifically, the person that didn't do the not speaking of the unknowable words.
Sherlock, for instence. Sherlock didn't not speak those unspeakable words, no. John, however, did. Sherlock loves complicated problems, but this specific one, he did not find to his favour.
He knew the unspeakable words needed to be said. If only John had said them when he needed to say them. Now the unspeakable words had not been said so loudly that Sherlock could hear them being screamed in the silence of the room that was once filled with companionship.
"Here you are, Sherlock," John said with an innocent smile, as though he hadn't not spoken when the unspeakable was called to be said. Sherlock nearly glared at him as he took his tea.
He must've nearly-glared harder than he thought, for then John was just-about-frowning.
"Something wrong?" He asked.
Sherlock opened his mouth, the unspoken words at the tip of his tongue. But then John was touching him. His hand on Sherlock's forehead. Pressed against his cheeks. A humming of doctorly knowledge, then a slight half-smile of concern.
"Well, you're not warm.." John trailed off, as though Sherlock could only be in a bad mood were his health in question. Sherlock's nearly-glare deepened to an almost-glare.
And then warm lips were pressed against his forehead. His cheek. His other cheek. His chin. Sherlock's almost-glare could've never survived an attack like that.
Suddenly the unspoken words weren't being screamed, they were being said. Said in the silence, through action. And Sherlock decided that maybe the unspeakable words could go unspoken for a bit longer. Maybe they wouldn't need to be spoken at all, and maybe this complication isn't nearly as complicated as he thought.
Merry Christmas! Here's a little Sherlock-confusion for ya! Sorry for any spelling/grammar errors, I don't have a spell-check or beta. If you see any glaringly obvious (or even not so obvious, or just any at all) mistakes, then don't be afraid to point them out. I know, however, that this little ficlet was a grammar nightmare threaded with double negatives, so no need to point those out-those were on purpose.
Anywho, tell me if ya like it!
Oh, and if you have any thoughts on those unspoken unspeakable words, tell me in a Review or a Personal Message, I'd love to hear your interpretations.
Au revoir!