Disclaimer: I sadly don't own the Characters portrayed by BBC or Sir Conan Doyle. I only write fanfiction to cope with my pain inflicted by this show.
I watched as Sherlock made his way, back and forth across the room. I was captivated by the frantic sociopath. It seemed as though something was weighing heavily on him. I could tell that he friend was having an internal battle with himself. What it was about I wasn't too sure, I just knew that if he didn't get Sherlock to calm down soon, I would never get any sleep. I swore there was a trench in the floor engraved by the fast and repetitive pace of the slender man.
As John was having a debate about the detective's own inner struggle, Sherlock sat down next to him. Rather close as well. I wasn't too sure why but he liked the closeness. It felt safe. There had only been a few times that Sherlock would purposely get intimately close to me. It would always make my heart rate increase and my head to spin so fast I would become imbalanced. My nose filled with the smell of his shampoo, chemicals, and somewhat to my dismay, tobacco. When I looked up, I saw the evident worry lines carved into Sherlock's forehead. I saw each and every curl, and the way they fell around his head in dark locks. I would always try to be discreet while noticing these small details but, who was I fooling? Sherlock saw everything. He took it in like a sponge absorbing water.
I knew that we could never be. We would never happen.
Sherlock wasn't interested in me that way and at first I wasn't but eventually I latched myself on to this dangerous new companion of mine. As with anything thing else, the feeling started off small and every time I saw him it would grow. I could feel the pain he craved, the sadness he felt. I could feel what he was going through. Now I was just like the lost pup trying desperately to be loved and watched and cared for by its owner.
I was pulled back into the present to see that Sherlock had sat closer to me, his hip against mine and his leg hovering inches away. I could feel his tension. I could feel the heat radiating off of him and all I wanted was to be with him.
I built up the courage to ask him what was wrong. He just looked at me with something I couldn't quite describe. "Sherlock, if there's something bothering you… you can tell me, you know?" I tried comforting the man.
He looked hesitant but I could tell he was composing his thoughts. Without looking at me he gathered his breath saying, "John, there is something bothering me but I'm not sure how to address it."
Oh no, he's going to tell me I need to leave Baker street, or that this partnership isn't working out, or that someone is after him and he needs to leave, my head was swimming with doubt. I wanted to know.
"Sherlock… What is it?" I asked sheepishly. I was terrified of what was to come.
Again Sherlock didn't meet my eyes making me feel even worse about the situation.
"John, I've always thought of you as a good friend and you've always been there to help me, " Oh, god, he hates me! "you have taught me things I didn't even know, which is hard considering I know everything." He took another deep breath. I was holding in one myself I could almost feel tears forming but I needed to stay strong. I could do this.
"Recently, I've noticed that … things have been slightly different. I know that you like me, it's plan as day, every time you see me your eyes shine and your smile grows. You blush significantly whenever someone suggests we are a couple, that may be because you are embarrassed at people accusing you of homosexual behavior but I've eliminated that option seeing as right now, in this very second your pulse is beating very fast. Almost unhealthily fast if I say so myself," he looked me in the eyes gaining confidence and slowing is raped speech, "your eyes are dilated and I can feel the lust emanating off of you."
I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of water. What was I suppose to say to that?
"John, I wanted you to know…." He paused breaking the contact of his sea blue eyes and my own chocolate brown ones.
"Yes?" I was shaking with nervousness. He was about to tell me that he didn't like the unwanted attention. Oh, my god. I can't do this. I stood up I couldn't do this. Sherlock grabbed my wrist in a fluid motion and pulled me down practically on top of him.
He said the next words so fast I had to do a double take. "John I love you."
"What?" what?
He rolled his eyes. "you know I don't like repeating my-"
I didn't let him finish his sentence though. I pushed my lips onto his own perfect lips. The crashed together like an ocean wave against a boat. The passion behind it just as evident as the love.
I was so happy. This was the moment I had been dreaming about.
He loved me.
He loved me.
I hope you enjoyed! This was my first one shot and its crap but I had to write one. I'm in the middle of two other stories and this needed to be done so here it is!
Review's are welcomed and I'll love anyone who does review forever!