The Doctor, The Hunter and The Brains

One: Suspicions

John had come home later than usual, but he had a grocery bag in his hand, so Sherlock dismissed it. He took one look at Sherlock, then went out to the kitchen where he put away the milk they'd been needing for a little while.

He then took a kitchen chair and just sat and stared at Sherlock from the side. Sherlock was in his thinking pose and John knew not to disturb him, but now that John was home, that was almost that Sherlock could think about. So, he let it go. He had already solved the case anyway, so what harm could it do?

He kept giving sideways glances to the soldier staring at him, and he deduced what the blond could be thinking about. Sherlock thought that John was thinking about how much of an idiot Sherlock was sometimes. And he was thinking about that, but in a good way. He thought of how blind Sherlock could be to John's emotions when he could read any other's easily.

John puzzled Sherlock. John has a heart of gold, is amazing at poetry (despite what Sherlock has said about it), and he's strong, yet when he hides himself, he reveals everything. but not this time. This time, he was keeping something too close for even Sherlock to even possibly guess at what this could be.

A girlfriend? No, he would have told Sherlock by now. He lost his job? No, he'd be furious. A… boyfriend, possibly? No, he's always denying being gay. Maybe he's guilty about a mistake? Did someone die under his care? Possibly, but then why would he hide it? This all made no sense. Sherlock gave up and stared at the doctor directly. He still couldn't find anything. Except for the obvious fact that the blond was hiding something.

John was hoping Sherlock wouldn't find out about his job lately. I mean, yeah, he was a doctor, but he was so much more by night. And that was why he was staring at Sherlock so intensely, he was waiting for a case, so he could back out and do what he needed to. What he knew he had to…

He was just hoping that Sherlock wouldn't find out. He knew Sherlock suspected something, he has for months now, but he was only just noticing it in these past few days. He thought maybe John was just waiting to tell him, but Sherlock was sure that now, John was purposefully hiding it, and he had no intention of revealing it, at any point in time.

This made Sherlock even more interested in John. He was already interested, but this made him too much. Sherlock already loved his dark blue eyes, and his light blond hair, and when he walks, he always admires what's behind. But this, this made John irresistible.

John had no idea that Sherlock was interested at all. He was too busy trying to conceal his own emotions for the detective. He knew, that when he took this job, he couldn't have anyone, including his flatmate. But this just made it worse. It made the love spread so much faster.

But only because he was starting to notice so much more about Sherlock that he hadn't before. He didn't feel as though he might die any moment before. So he absorbed the looks of his love. The tight curls that hung around his bluish grey eyes, his small but defined… figure. Everything.

Yes, the boys both admired as much as they could. John, because he might die any day (night), and Sherlock because he was just interested. He always has been, from the day they met, he was interested.

Usually when a soldier comes back from war, they aren't as well controlled as John was. John kept to himself and showed now pain, even when Sherlock could see it, John never put it on display for everyone else. That was the first thing.

Then there was his kindness. Any other man of the survivors of war were rude unconsciously, but John was so kind and caring, it took the breath of the detective at first sight. Then there was that he was easy to love back, easy to trust with even your darkest secrets. He was John: amazing in every sense of the word.

But Sherlock also had the best of things about him. Just not that everyone else sees. John had seen it, when the men attacked Mrs. Hudson, when he had to fall, anytime he had to hurt someone he loved, or anyone he loved became hurt, he let emotions slip. But no one else seemed to notice.

And yes, he was very capable of love, he just never admits it. Plus, no one has ever asked if he loved someone. I'm sure that if you asked, he would answer truthfully, but no one has ever wanted that side of him. They always took the side that showed no emotion at all, and accepted it, so never noticed anything else.

But John didn't want to accept that. No, he dug deeper and found the love he was seeking. He found that, and many other things. Sherlock was definitely not a sociopath. He was actually quite the opposite of what he pledged to be. it was quite funny to John when Sherlock said he was a sociopath. He had even laughed.

He smiled now, in this staring contest, he smirked at the burnet under his gaze. Sherlock returned the smile, "So, case solved, then?" John asked.

Sherlock nodded, "Dinner?"

John looked at his watch, "It's a little late (8:00), but sure, anything to not be stuck in here with these suffocating fe-" he cut himself off, "Yeah," he smiled and stood. He wasn't ready to confess anything yet.

Sherlock stood as well, slipping on his suit's jacket as they walked out the door. It was summer, so John was questioning why Sherlock even kept up the appearance, but whatever. Seeing as John was just wearing a simple grey tee and his jeans, he could only imagine the heat.

This was the reason Sherlock decided to walk. But as they walked, Sherlock kept brushing up against John. The blond thought it an accident, and one time it was. But Sherlock wanted to see it what John was hiding had anything to do with him.

John gave up and held it hand out to the idiot burnet. Sherlock seemed confused, "Why?" he asked.

"You keep brushing up against me," they had stopped, "And, from the looks you've been giving me, I know we both have concealed feelings," he admitted. Sooner than either had expected, but I guess it was sooner or later going to happen.

Sherlock sighed and gave up, lacing his fingers through the doctor's and as their hands landed at their sides, they finished walking. "When?" Sherlock asked when they were a street away from Angelo's.

John answered knowing exactly what he was talking about, "About two years ago, you know when you… yeah," John said.

Sherlock realized and confessed, "A few months after we met. But I notice everything, and I have to say, you hide things well. even from yourself, but not me," Sherlock pressed into what he was thinking about during their little staring contest.

"I guess so," he smiled as they entered Angelo's for the first time since The Fall. Well, for the first time after The Fall, together. John had been once before, and Sherlock many times. But this was the first time they were here together (since The Fall). "So," John started as they sat down in their favored spot, "Is this a date, this time?" he asked.

Sherlock looked to the soldier, dumbfounded. John smiled at what he had done. He confused Sherlock. He laughed as Sherlock answered, "Yeah, I guess it is," and he joined the laughter of his lover. They laughed at the fact that Angelo set down a candle again, as he always does.

John put his hand on Sherlock's knee to steady himself, and Sherlock placed his own hand there, as they steadied themselves and only grinned now. John melted into Sherlock's grin, and Sherlock melted into John's dark blue eyes.

Their food was set down, and they thanked Angelo, not looking away. John cleared his throat and removed his hand to pick up his fork and eat. Sherlock did the same, hungry from not eating for three days. The case had taken longer than expected, but they had solved it. And now they rewarded themselves with food and sleep later. Eventually…

Honestly, Sherlock had no idea what could happen tonight. A lot could, and nothing could. With John, there was no telling. Then again, with Sherlock there was no telling what he would do. But that was why Sherlock was going to enjoy not deducing anything, to just let something happen.

Even if it's just sleep, something will happen with John. Sherlock was sure of that, so very sure. John had finished, but Sherlock hadn't. he wasn't really all that hungry anymore. "Sherlock, you need to eat," John complained.

"I know, but I'm not hungry anymore, can't we just go home?" John looked at his watch again, (8: 45). John sighed and nodded. Sherlock rose first, and took John's hand as they strode out of the restaurant, Angelo and everyone else staring at this 'inevitable' pairing.

John snickered and Sherlock giggled, "They were staring…" and they broke out in a fit of giggles. As they walked Sherlock fell behind a little, as an excuse to stare at John's arse. "Stop it," he let go of Sherlock's hand and grabbed him his bum and when their hips connected, side to side, he slid his hand around Sherlock's waist.

Sherlock chuckled and slid his arm around John's shoulders. Sherlock's fingers went through John's and the hand around his waist, and John put his fingers in between Sherlock's fingers connected to the arm around John's shoulders. So many people were staring as they walked back to the flat.

All the while they were laughing at people's faces. Some of the girls squealed in awe. John and Sherlock just blushed, and when they fell through their door, they started laughing again. They laughed to the point of tears and John had a headache.

This made them forget the secrets and the deductions they had made about each other were apparent. They got closer, and John put his arms around Sherlock's neck, and Sherlock put his hands on John's small hips.

They brushed up against each other and they were blushing, but not only in their cheeks. Sherlock felt strange, he had never felt sexually attracted to anyone. Yeah, he liked John for his personality, but he had never loved someone completely.

John just went with everything, as he had always done. But he also always made the first move, so he had no idea if he should let Sherlock do the rest, or do what he always does. But when Sherlock showed that he wasn't sure of himself, John was prepared to give up any moment. But Sherlock saw the pity flash John's eyes and he became suddenly infuriated, "Stop it!" he demanded.

John looked confused, "Stop feeling sorry for me. Stop pitying 'the virgin', just stop. I don't want pity, especially from you," he softened and pressed his forehead to the soldier's. he calmed himself and John realized what Sherlock wanted instead.

But he still wasn't going to force Sherlock into what he didn't want. So there they stood, stuck in confusion about what to do to one another. Should they kiss and shag? Or should they wait for their love to grow first? They had no idea.

Sherlock tilted John's chin to where their eyes met and they could see the want. But John didn't want to-, and John's worries slipped away as Sherlock's lips were pressed to his own lightly. John accepted this position and pressed back.

Sherlock melted into John's warmth and John's fingers found Sherlock's curls in the midst of all the heat. John pressed himself to Sherlock as his tongue slid across the burnet's lips. The detective opened his mouth slightly and bent over John more as he slide his tongue in between John's lips.

Once they tasted each other, John's breath was caught and he moaned the tiniest little moan and it sounded a little like a whimper. Sherlock smiled as he brought his tongue back to himself and bit John's bottom lip briefly before kissing him again.

When they disconnected they were breathing heavily and John looked at his watch for the last time, "We should sleep. Sherlock, you need it most."

"Will you…?" Sherlock had difficulty asking, "Will you sleep with me?" he finally asked, "Just sleep, no sex. Not yet at least," they smiled and John nodded.

"Alright. But I have a job in the morning," and tonight, he remembered. But that's for later. Sherlock nodded as he lead John to his bedroom. They stripped down to their underwear and climbed under the warm covers.

Sherlock snuggled into John's chest and as he listened to his soldier's heartbeat, he sighed and fell asleep. But John couldn't sleep. He stroked the detective's curls from his eyes as he waited for a little, he wanted to remember Sherlock's warmth.

But the time came and he had to leave. He had to complete the task he was given. He hated hiding this, but he had to, if Sherlock knew… oh, God, that would kill John. Literally. But as he slipped out of bed, he remembered his reasons for doing this, and he gathered the courage again, and he was dressed and out the door within minutes.

Y'all should tell me what you think so far. And don't worry, The Doctor will appear soon enough... :)