Why hello there my fellow sherlockians, my holmeskillets. (Yes, I know it's bad, but you laugh anyway, right?) this is my first Sheflock fic, and I was really nervous because writing from Sherlock's point of view sounds absolutely terrifying to me. But I tried anyway, so I hope you all enjoy!
disclaimer: you all know these by now, I don't own these characters or anything blablabla, all rights go to... Erm... Just go read someone else's story for the disclaimer.
Warnings: this first chapter is pretty mild, but it will get more interesting (by that I mean smutty) if you don't like male/ male relationships or slash/yaoi, this probably won't be the story for you.
Dust. Light. Noise. Police sirens- no scratch that. Ambulance. I open my mouth slightly, tasting the evening fog, the impending rain. I can smell Mrs. Hudson baking something downstairs and if I try I can paint a mental picture of her kitchen, drawing from the few times I've been allowed in. The front door downstairs opens with a loud thud and I know only John is able to make that much noise simply by existing. I hear him stomping up the stairs but don't bother to get up, leaving my eyes closed and ankles crossed where I'm laying on the couch.
"Sherlock." I don't respond even though I can hear him perfectly fine. I know it's awful, but when I'm bored I find John absolutely adorable.
"Sherlock!" He tries again. I can barely keep a straight face as I mentally picture him standing in the doorway with his arms folded in annoyance. I can nearly feel the daggers he's glaring at me but I stay motionless. He finally gives up and wanders into the kitchen. I hear him making tea and I finally make a sound.
"I'll have some too, John." I say his name softly, rolling it off my tongue. I know he hates when I do that because his face turns red in annoyance. John then does something I don't expect in the slightest. He gets mad.
"If you want something, get your lazy arse off the couch and get it yourself! I am not your slave." I smirk at the image that particular sentence projects into my brain and sit up. He's standing in the kitchen waiting for the hot water with his back to me. I'm quite bored, which is unfortunate for both of us. Well, mostly for John. I silently get up and stalk over to him, my bare feet not making a sound. He's still fuming and doesn't notice me until it's too late.
"Allright, I'm up. Will you please make me a cup of tea now, John?" I whisper dangerously close to his ear. His name is nearly a purr on my lips as I lean close to him.
"Sherlock!" He gasps. I'm starting to wonder if he calls my name with such frequency all the time or if it's just the change of weather. He claps a hand to his ear and spins around to glare at me. His face flushes when he realizes my close proximity. Normally I would assume it to be annoyance or even anger, but his ears have gone scarlet and his breathing has turned slightly irregular. Perhaps... No, he's made it very clear that he is not gay. But maybe- no, that would be mean. He's John. I can't just play with him like a normal human. But his reactions are so much more interesting now. He clears his throat and raises his eyebrows, glancing down to where my arms have landed on either side of him, hands resting on the counter. I smirk. I must have been absently staring at him during my internal monologue because his face still hasn't cooled down.
"Fine, I'll make your damn tea. Just back off." He ducks under my arm and slips away to grab another mug. I walk away feeling a grin begin to spread over my face. Maybe I could just play for awhile. What could it hurt? It's just another experiment, right? A soft chuckle escapes my lips and I'm glad that John is still too flustered to be paying much attention to me. I can't give anything away. I promise myself I will only play this game until we get another case, that I'm only doing this to relieve the boredom. Then I'll cut it off. I flop back onto the couch to await my tea and close my eyes, a smirk probably permanently etched onto my face from that fine encounter.
"Sherlock, tea's ready." I hear John call. I'm tempted to once again ignore him, but instead I sit up and hold out my hand. I have to say, it's a lot more courtesy than I usually give but he still sounds pissed off when he stomps over to shove the mug roughly at me.
"John, is everything okay? Is something wrong?" Internally, I'm cracking up. I don't think I've ever asked someone if they're feeling okay. John simply glares at me.
"What, you mean besides the fact that I have to live with an annoying git all the time, no nothing's wrong." I look up sadly, pasting on the saddest most depressed face I can manage.
"I'm sorry, John. I didn't realize that you hate me so much. I guess having a friend is so new for me, I don't know how to act around you." I look down into my tea. John shuffles his feet a bit then sighs.
"It's fine, Sherlock. Just, if you could answer me once in a while, just to let me know you're alive, that would be great." I nod and look up hopefully.
"So, we can still be friends, right?"
"Yes, Sherlock. We can still be... Friends." John sighs at the end and mopes off, exactly confirming my suspicions. He was adorably in love with me.
well, what do you think? I thought it was hilarious and brilliant, but I did write it on four hours of sleep, so no promises. Please review and tell me what you liked, what you didn't, what I can do better. Sorry for such a short chapter they will probably be longer if I decide to continue this story. Thanks! :D
