John huffed out a breath of pure irritation. How many times did he have to go out shopping and struggle with the ridiculous amount of bags without the help of Mr I'm-Too-Intelligent-To-Do-Something-So-Boring-As-Shopping? Nevertheless, John never complained because he knew full well that he would be fighting a losing battle.
He shifted the bags around a bit to make them more comfortable in his hands and then stared up the stairs wondering just how he was going to get up all those stairs without giving himself a heart attack. Not that Sherlock would even care if he collapsed on the stairs clutching his chest dying a slow and horrible death. No, he would most likely just shrug and find himself a new flatmate. Not that he would have any luck, because who would be so stupid as to share a flat with Sherlock? Well, John pushed that aside as he realised that he was quite clearly that stupid. He took a deep breath and started up the stairs.
He managed to reach the top, panting heavily and gasping for a nice cup of tea. He wondered for a moment weather Sherlock would be so kind to make – no, he stopped that line of thought with a chuckle. Sherlock be kind, HA, not likely. He pushed open their door and walked in with as much dignity as he could manage, which unsurprisingly, wasn't much considering he was panting heavily and carrying god knows how many Tesco bags. He dumped them all in the kitchen; he would deal with unpacking it all later once he had had a well-deserved rest.
He was about to put the kettle on when he heard a loud groan that was clearly coming from Sherlock's bedroom. He sighed heavily and made his way to the door, hoping to god that Sherlock had not done something stupid to himself. He considered knocking on the door, but then decided that he wasn't going to bother as Sherlock wouldn't bother. Sherlock had no respect for privacy, considering the amount of time he had barged in on him when he was on the toilet or in the shower. Yes, they did have a lock but Sherlock took it off stating that considering whom they were, someone could make their way through the window in their bathroom and kill either of them violently while they showered and the other one wouldn't even know. Ridiculous? Yes, very, but John was so disturbed by the prospect that he didn't dare argue with that logic.
Realising that he was imagining someone murdering him violently while he was in the shower, he shivered and opened the door quickly. As soon as he stepped into the room, Sherlock jumped at least five feet in the air from his bed and fell flat on his face on his bedroom floor. John just stared at him for all of five seconds before bursting out laughing and wondering how the hell he had startled him when he had walked in ever so carefully. Sherlock pulled himself up and glared at John. He didn't even know why he deserved the glare, he hadn't done anything wrong!
"Why are you looking at me like – Oh god, what have you done? Have you broken something? What have you broke? Is it fixable?"
Sherlock just stared at him with a guilty expression. "No I have not thank you very much!"
John let out a sigh of relief and then eyed Sherlock carefully. "So, what's wrong with you then?" Obviously something was wrong with him because that was an almighty groan he heard… "Oh Christ, were you doing what I think you were doing? Have I just walked in on you… you know!"
Sherlock looked a little confused and then his face cleared and he gaped at John. John didn't know why he had to gape like that; it was a perfectly good conclusion to come to. "No I was not! You have got such a dirty mind John. It's no wonder that you are constantly obsessed with dating."
John did an awkward clear of his throat and then looked Sherlock up and down, making sure he was not harmed in any way. He seemed perfectly fine, apart from the fact that he was clenching his jaw slightly and his hand had balled into a fist as if he were in pain or he – hold on a second, he quite clearly was in pain. "Sherlock, what the hell have you done to yourself?"
"Nothing, why would you assume I have done something to myself? I know you think I am incapable of looking after myself John, but I can assure you that there is absolutely nothing wrong with me." he snapped his jaw shut and then winced slightly. Ah, so there was something wrong with his mouth then? Or maybe his teeth?
"Sherlock, is there something wrong with your teeth, or maybe one tooth in particular?"
"No! Absolutely not. Don't be ridiculous John." Sherlock's hand subconsciously came up to rub at his jaw and John just sighed heavily. Why was it so difficult just to get Sherlock to admit that something was quite clearly wrong with him?
John walked out of Sherlock's bedroom and was only half aware of Sherlock following him out. He made his way to the kitchen and opened the cupboard that he had designated as his cupboard for first aid supplies. He was quite alarmed at how low his supplies had got and made a mental note to stock up. He pulled out the bottle with the Ibuprofen pills in and then walked through to the living room where Sherlock was sat in his chair clutching his jaw. He instantly let his hand drop when he saw John entering. John had to restrain from rolling his eyes; in fact, it was so difficult that he actually did roll his eyes. Why was Sherlock being so bloody difficult?
"Take this, it will help with the tooth ache," he said as he placed the bottle of pills on the coffee table. Sherlock just stared at it for a moment before finally locking eyes with John.
"How did you know I have a tooth ache?"
"That doesn't really matter does it? The fact of the matter is that you have a tooth ache and you are being a complete prat, so take the medicine and then I'm sure you are a big enough boy to make your own dentist appointment."
Sherlock's eyes instantly widened and then looked back at the bottle of pills. "Well, surely if I take these, then there isn't any need to go to the dentist right? No need what so ever." He picked up the pills and then took two without the need of water. John thought that he probably should have told him that it would be easier with water considering Sherlock had no common sense what so ever and probably didn't know that himself.
"No, you still need to go to the dentist Sherlock." He pulled out his phone from his pocket and handed it to Sherlock. "Look, I have even provided you with the means to make the appointment. Now do It." he watched Sherlock watch his phone and sighed.
"Is there really any need to be quite so dramatic, I'm sure it will just go away on its own."
"I am not being dramatic about this Sherlock. Maybe it will go away on its own, or maybe it won't. Therefore it is probably best if you go to the dentist and get it seen to. I really don't see how this is an issue, you are acting like you are – wait, are you afraid of the dentist?" He tried, oh how he tried, not to smile and to seem like he was at least slightly supportive, but the grin somehow made its way onto his face and would not budge.
"How many times do I have to accuse you of being ridiculous in the space of half an hour John?" Sherlock shuffled in his chair and refused to look John in the eye, which to John, just reinforced his theory.
"You are aren't you? The great Sherlock Holmes is afraid of the dentist."
"I don't care what you say, I am not under any circumstances what so ever, stepping foot into that dentist surgery."
"But you are registered with a dentist are you not?" Sherlock shuffled more in his chair and John could clearly see that he was contemplating lying right then.
"Well, yes but like I said, I'm not going."
John thought about that for a moment. What could he do to get Sherlock to go? He had no bloody idea. Maybe he should just ask.
"What can I do to make you go?"
Sherlock looked like he was thinking about it. He stared at the floor; biting his lip as if he was trying to be absolutely sure of his answer because John knew that he knew that this opportunity would probably not present itself again.
"A kiss." John was very grateful that he had not made his tea yet, because if he had then he was very sure that he would have spat it out all over Sherlock. In fact, now he was very disappointed that he hadn't made his tea.
"Excuse me? What did you say?" There is no way that Sherlock asked for a kiss, there is just absolutely no way. He snorted inwardly because there is no way that all his prayers had just been answered.
"I didn't say anything." Sherlock said quickly and then winced in obvious pain. John raised an eyebrow at Sherlock and hoped that it showed just how much he was not buying that.
"I'm pretty sure you just asked me for a kiss. What happened to Mr I-Consider-Myself-Married-To-My-Work?"
"I'm sorry to disappoint you John, but I did not just ask for a kiss." John rolled his eyes and then sat down in the chair opposite him.
"Right fine, if you go to the dentist, then I will give you a kiss." Sherlock's head snapped up and he narrowed his eyes.
"Are you taking the piss?"
"No, now do we have a deal?"
Sherlock took all of five seconds to agree, which John filed away with a smug grin. Sherlock jumped out of his chair and then made his way to his bedroom where he was clearly looking for the number to his dentist. He then came back and took John's phone. He of course could have used his own and John had no idea why he didn't use his own. Sherlock was about to leave the room when John stopped him.
"Uh, hold up, where do you think you are going? You can make this phone call in here where I can be sure you have made the appointment."
Sherlock sighed and then sat in his chair again. He dialled the number and then spoke for goodness knows how long to the receptionist. John could hear that Sherlock was obviously exasperated with whoever it was. Finally he hung up the phone and gave it back to John. Sherlock then decided to take ten minutes to explain the whole conversation to John, who couldn't really care less, before he had finally got to the information John was waiting for. Apparently they could fit him in later that day, which was not surprising. John thought that Mycroft probably had something to do with the fact that they could fit him in so quickly and that probably explained the stupidly long conversation too.
The day went on as it normally would. John sat and watched TV, drinking endless cups of tea while Sherlock did whatever the hell it was he did on john's laptop. He just didn't bother asking these days because he was sure that he didn't really want to know. When Four o'clock came around, John noticed that Sherlock became more and more nervous. He started to pace around the flat and John had to make a dash to stop him before he made his way into Johns room and took it upon himself to get hold of John's gun. In the end, John sat him down on the sofa and they played a nice game of 'I spy' in which Sherlock had originally stared at him like he had grown another head but mysteriously started to play along anyway. By the time it was half four, John pushed Sherlock out the door and into a taxi. Sherlock was surprisingly quiet the whole taxi-ride and only spoke once to tell John to shut up. John was sure that Sherlock was glad he was there anyway, even if he did rudely tell him to shut up.
Once they were there and John had gaped at the poshness of the bloody dentist surgery, they sat down in the waiting area for Sherlock's name to be called.
"Why are you so scared of the dentist?" John asked. It was perfectly reasonable to ask. Maybe he had had a bad experience once that had put him off for life. Or maybe it was entirely irrational and he was scared of nothing.
"Because everyone says that it is so awful." That was it? That was the reason why he was scared? Because everyone says so? Since when has Sherlock Holmes listened to anything anyone has to say about anything?
"Right and what do people say about the dentist exactly?" Sherlock fiddled with his fingers and looked like he was thinking about his answer carefully. "You know, what most people say about the dentist is a load of rubbish."
"Well, what about If I tell you what I have heard, and you tell me if it is true or not?"
John thought that was a reasonable thing to ask. Of course he would be more than happy to do such a thing. "Sure," he said with a shrug. How bad could it be?
Sherlock instantly perked up and shifted himself so he was facing John. "Is it true that most dentists drug you with gas and then sexually assault you?" What the fuck? Was that a serious question?
"What the hell do you think?" John shrieked. Honestly, no bloody common sense what so ever.
"Well I don't know do I John? Hence why I was asking. I take it by your girlish shriek that it is a myth." He straightened himself up and then cleared his throat. "Right, next one. Is it true that they actually pull out your teeth by putting string around it and attaching said string to a door and then slamming it shut?"
John just stared at him for a moment, silently wondering if Sherlock was actually the genius everyone thought he was. "Why yes Sherlock, that one is absolutely true. How professional of them."
Sherlock huffed. "There is no need to be sarcastic John." He lifted his nose in the air. "Is it true that they drill your teeth with a massive electric drill?"
"For god sake Sherlock, who the hell have you been listening to? No that is not true."
"Is it true that they use a piece of equipment that is capable of sucking out your whole entire set of teeth?" John was wondering if the questions could get any more bizarre.
"Yes, they use something that sucks out the saliva when working on the teeth, no it is not bloody strong enough to suck out all your teeth."
"Is it true that the injection needle is ten inches long? That is very long John."
John rubbed his hand over his face and looked at the clock, it was five minutes past their appointment and he wasn't sure he could really hold on for much longer. "Once again, I'm sure you will be shocked to find out that that is not true. Who the hell told you all this?"
"Mycroft told me all of this when I was young, so of course I am going to believe it."
"Well Mycroft is a git because none of that is true and he clearly told you all of that to scare you off the dentist which is highly petty of him and I shall be having a word with him about that. I hope after this experience you will see that it isn't as bad as it seems and that you will start to have regular check-ups. If you had regular check-ups in the first place then you probably wouldn't be here right now with a sore tooth!"
They sat in silence for a few minutes, and John could tell that Sherlock still had many, many ridiculous questions to ask but clearly realised that he was being a stupid idiot.
A small woman came out and called for Sherlock, who instantly tensed up and scrambled for John's hand. That in itself showed just how scared he must have been if he would actually do something so human as to seek comfort from holding someone's hand.
"John, come in with me."
"I am not going to go in with you Sherlock. You will be fine, you don't need me in there, honestly." He gave his hand a squeeze and tried very hard not to laugh. Sherlock sighed and then followed the woman into the room.
John sat and read countless leaflets about dental hygiene and even contemplated leaving Sherlock to it, but then he would feel guilty about leaving him and decided not to be so cruel. He had sat there for well over half an hour before Sherlock walked out. He walked towards John and looked oddly disturbed.
"That was horrible John. I had a decayed tooth! A decayed tooth john! He took out the decayed area and filled it with a filling. You were right about the injection, it was rather pathetic, I was expecting a ten inch needle. And the suction thing hardly even sucked up my spit let along my whole set of teeth. Although I'm not sure about whether or not I was sexually assaulted because I fainted when I first stepped into the room so he could have easily sexually assaulted me then." John just looked at him amused and then shook his head. What a bloody idiot. "Now where is my kiss?"
Oh shit! He had completely forgotten about that little deal. Sherlock was obviously having him on right? He didn't really want a kiss. He couldn't possibly.
"Are you going back on our deal? That is very rude and needless to say very cruel to lead me on like that John. Do you lead on all your dates like that? No wonder they never last!"
"Woah, calm down! I thought you were having me on with that Sherlock. You don't really want a kiss right?"
"Did I or did I not ask for a kiss John?"
"Well you did insist that you didn't even say it even though I did hear you say it."
"Yes, well!" Sherlock looked embarrassed and John just had to laugh.
"Fine, you bloody idiot, come here!" he grabbed Sherlock by the lapels of his coat and kissed him on the lips. He was aware that he was stood in the middle of the dentist waiting area, but he couldn't really care less because he was kissing Sherlock Holmes! His tongue entwined with Sherlock's. He heard a small moan and had no idea if it was him or Sherlock. It was most likely both. He pulled away slightly, panting for breath, before he plunged back in and pulled Sherlock closer to him. It was the best kiss he had ever had in his life. He knew in that moment that he would do whatever it took to be able to kiss Sherlock whenever he wanted. He pulled away and looked at Sherlock carefully.
"John," he said as he put his fingers to his lips and frowned slightly. John thought he was going to say something very intelligent and ask him out on a nice date somewhere where they didn't get the food for free, but what he really said was: "I didn't feel that what so ever!" Oh- oh the anesthetic, of course! John was slightly disappointed. That was the best kiss he had ever had and Sherlock couldn't even feel it?
"Oh, well, sucks to be you then." He said with a shrug and turned around to make his way out of the dentist surgery. He knew that Sherlock would have seen through that attitude in seconds.
"Well, it doesn't really matter. We have the rest of our lives to have loads more anyway, right John?" he said as he slung his arm around John's shoulder and pulled him so bloody tight that it really hurt! He tried to wiggle his way out from under the arm but Sherlock had a surprisingly very strong grip, so he decided that he had little choice but the give up. And so what if he enjoyed having Sherlock hold him possessively?
Later that night, John was sat on their small sofa with Sherlock's head resting in his lap. He stroked his soft curls gently and tried hard not to sigh. He pulled out his phone and sent a text to Mycroft while Sherlock talked animatedly from his position in his lap.
Thanks a million. I have just sat and answered questions about the dentist for 3 hours! Now he is asking me if it is true that opticians secretly install mini cameras in the frames of glasses!
Fin