"Can I call you by your name?"
"Sudden? Sure."
Yes, after almost a year of a rollercoaster of a life with Sherlock it was 'sudden'. During that time it was only Holmes. And when John realised that he had already asked it, he had the time to think about the consequences. Sherlock will definitely start deducing why this sudden request and where his deductions may lead him made John involuntarily wince. While John was riding on this train of thoughts Sherlock was looking at him with an amused expression. As John became aware of his gaze his brain involuntarily started taking notes of Sherlock's appearance. That messy mop of unruly rich brown curls could have made anybody on earth look like Medusa, but on Sherlock they looked gorgeous and even umm… sexy! A broad forehead with a few worry lines and some tumbled brown curls, very vivid and lively eyebrows, eyes could not be defined by any words, simply because they were ever changing. Now cool, next piercing, then caring, again burning, look at them any time of the day and they'll never be the same twice. The nose had a twist to it, God knows what but it was prominent, striking. And the mouth, which was grinning right now, bought John back to reality.
"What are you grinning at?"
"You've suddenly discovered that I'm beautiful." The baritone said amused.
John winced again. The deductions were done. Now to face the consequences of his utterly stupid act, thinking about Sherlock in front of Sherlock.
"Err no… not suddenly…you are beautiful, you know that, everybody does…doesn't take a great mind to deduce that". John said uncomfortably but plainly.
By the time Sherlock's grin had faded, there was a smirk instead with a searching gaze looking for answers.
"I was just admiring your looks" Said John with an attempt at a smile. Sherlock quirked up an eyebrow, really?
"Tea!" John's way out of almost every awkward situation. Sherlock didn't say anything nor did he nod. John wasn't waiting for either. He was already up from his chair and almost running towards the kitchen.
"Interesting." Sherlock said to himself looking at John. By the time John reached the kitchen he was sweating. "What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I behaving like this? Why do I need to call him by his name? because it's more… intimate? "his own thoughts were beginning to scare him now. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. "okay" he said to himself. "I've gone through many excitements, adrenalin rush for the last couple of months, maybe I'm a bit weary. I need rest and complete peace of mind for a few days. Sherlock is a difficult (to the extent of dangerous) person to live with. We had some great moments together and we are becoming very good friends very fast. There that's all, all very normal and nothing to panic about." After this self-analysis John visibly relaxed. He poured tea in cups, put a lump sum amount of sugar in Sherlock's cup, stirred it well and took the cups to the living room. All the way thinking how he had become acquainted with the little preferences of his flat-mate. John sank in the plush arm chair holding his cup with both hands contemplating. How was he going to take rest and keep his peace of mind with Sherlock around? The yard would definitely bring a case again within a day or two and he will obviously jump at it with Sherlock or maybe he will keep playing the violin all night and keep John awake, maybe he'll blow up the house or part of the kitchen with another experiment or will keep whining all day like a five year old saying he's bored and expect John to entertain him… "I'm right here you know? You can just talk to me instead of thinking of me so much." John's thoughts came to an abrupt halt with that baritone speaking and he flushed. Oh! He hated when Sherlock spoke like he could actually hear his thoughts, he was brilliant with his deductions but he surely didn't recognize personal mind space. John cleared his throat and said "I was contemplating a holiday, just some quite time with myself and maybe a few books and good music… "
"Boring" Was the baritone's verdict. "I'm not asking you to come, Sherlock; you can very well stay and find something rather interesting to do. It's just that I'm a bit worked up at the moment, all that adrenalin rush plus the work, not to mention putting up with you" Said John first angrily and then warily. "Which is actually a good thing" Said Sherlock regarding the last part of what John said. John made an exasperated sound. What does he think of himself? He's a boon to mankind? Okay, he is but does he have to impose it all the time on everybody? Bloody hell. Sherlock was sitting on the couch with John's laptop. Legs crossed and the laptop on his lap. Eyes on the screen, mind God knows where. He used almost everything that belonged to John. His phone, his laptop, his food, clothes. It was like a silent agreement since John had walked in this house. It disturbed John in the beginning. Sherlock never asked before taking, he treated anything that belonged to John like his own property, even sometimes John himself. 221B Baker Street was Sherlock's world, where he owned everything. John was scared as hell that one day he may find Sherlock using his very private stuffs like tooth brush or underwear. But the man seemed to be very conscious about his cloths, so maybe at least John's under wears were safe.
"Mycroft has a farm house in Lincolnshire. We could go and stay there for a couple of days if you wish. "and jeopardize my original intention for peace of mind thought John. "No."he replied. "I'd prefer peace to experiments and sanity to your eccentricities. " "And loneliness instead of being with me." The baritone said. Looking up at an exasperated John who was about to say something Sherlock continued "You can't seem to take your mind off me when I'm sitting in front of you, what will it be then when you are alone." John swallowed, mind not working, breathing heavy. "Why are you trying to get away from me?" The baritone sounded ominous. Because all I can think about is you, all my thoughts lead to you, you are always around and when not around you're in my head and I'm pining for you. Whatever I'm doing these days I'm doing for you. This isn't normal Sherlock. I was used to a life without you and you can't just come along and make yourself indispensable! When John opened his mouth he said "That's not it! Sherlock you and I both know that it's impossible to relax while you're around!" "Oh! C'mon John you've got used to those things, you live, eat, sleep, watch TV, work, date all living with me!" Sherlock said indignantly. "Yes. I've become quite used to your eccentricities, they are part of my everyday life, but that's exactly the point Sherlock, I want some time off the everyday life and that includes you!" "What's the use John. You'll keep thinking of me." Sherlock said returning his gaze to the laptop screen, sounding bored. "You'll miss me." He added simply.
John shut his eyes closed. John Hamish Watson. An army doctor. Who has saved people and seen people die in War. Who has various war injuries on his body. He who has been through many relationships throughout his life, without finding his one true love. This person will be missing his flatmate of some months if he went on a holiday without him, even if the holiday was meant as a gateway from the same person. Yes Sherlock was right, like always, he did want to get away from him, he wanted to resettle his thoughts regarding his new life and flatmate and yes he would definitely miss him. John stood up making up his mind. This was enough confusion his mind was able to take for now. "Okay, I'll call it a day. Goodnight Sherlock." With that he went upstairs without looking at the man behind him who was watching him go quite intently. After the door closed behind him Sherlock's lips curled into a mischievous smile.