"Bored!" Sherlock shouted. John sighed, looking up from his laptop to his flatmate. They were in their sitting room, Sherlock laying on the couch, his hands steepled under his chin. While John sat in his chair, typing away on his laptop. It had barely been a day since his last case, and Sherlock was already acting like it were the end of the world.
"Sherlock, it's been less than a day since your last case!" John stated, causing the other male to groan out in anger.
"That one was too easy!" He exclaimed, raising his arms to show how infuriated he was," maybe if the boyfriend would have killed his fiancee, then I don't know, maybe chopped her up to pieces? And hid her around London? Maybe then, would it have been challenging for me, but no!" By now Sherlock was up and pacing in his nightgown and pj's, John blandly staring at him as he ranted," he just had to make it look like a suicide…" he mumbled.
"Sherlock, you can't always have murders, well murder, in a way that would be entertaining for you." John piped in as Sherlock paced, causing Sherlock to stop and stare at him.
"I know that, I just don't want to be bored anymore. It's dull, and it gives me a headache...I mean, I can't possibly be the only one who gets bored…" He snapped his gaze away from John, and stared at the kitchen. "I suppose I could finish some experiments…" He grumbled.
John looked back at his laptop, his blog nearly done with for today.
"If that's what will keep you content till the next case, then by all means. Knock yourself out." John smiled to himself, thinking he'd get some time to himself today. But of course as usual, he was wrong.
Sherlock rummaged around in the kitchen for a few hours, clattering dishes and pots could be heard from the sitting room. John sighed in happiness, closing his laptop after he finished his blog for the day. He wandered into the kitchen and noticed there was a pot boiling with a lid on, but he knew better than to look. He quickly scanned the kitchen, noticing blood on the counter. Sherlock was nowhere to be seen, and John guessed he had to use the loo. There was a beeping sound from the microwave, and John jumped. He glanced over to the microwave, glaring at it.
Making his way towards it slowly, John begrudgingly opened the microwave. He tried not to seemed horrified, as he saw a pair of eyeballs splattered all about the microwave. John sighed and ran a hand over his face, and stepped back staring at the eyeballs, which splattered blood everywhere and hung from the roof of the machine.
"I wanted to see how long they would last before they exploded," Sherlock mumbled, causing John to jump out of his skin. He was so horrified by the sight in front of him he didn't realize Sherlock had come into the kitchen. Sherlock was glaring at the mess in the microwave, in deep thought. He sighed in frustration, slamming the door shut."I was hoping for something more interesting…" Sherlock turned away, and seated himself in front of his microscope.
"What's in the pot?" John asked, slowly turning around to look at Sherlock.
"Ah, yes. I am currently boiling hands, to see how tender the flesh can get to cut it without any real strain." Sherlock answered, glancing up over to John, smirking. John sighed.
"And now I remember why I don't like it when you're left alone for more than 5 minutes." John grumbled to himself, licking his lips.
"Well John, if you have a problem with my experiments, I would suggest you do something else rather than be here." Sherlock quipped, making John stare at him.
"I wouldn't have a problem, if you didn't get out of hand with all these experiments!" John huffed out, turning away from Sherlock and walking back into the sitting room. Plopping down on his chair, John picked up newspapers that were near his feet. He wasn't really paying attention to what he was reading, his mind wandering as he sat there.
He kept wondering about what he would do to entertain himself, rather than just sitting there like a potato. John sighed every now and then, causing Sherlock to look over from his microscope. FInally Sherlock got annoyed, John's sighing becoming too much to handle. Sherlock quickly grabbed the petri dish from under his microscope and threw it across the room, it shattering in the sink. John jumped at the sudden crash, and shifted his body towards Sherlock.
"John, for the love of God. Please, do something. Maybe that girl who fawns over you, what's her name? Sarah? Why not go spend some time on her couch? Your constant sighing is very irritating, and is making me wish that I were deaf." John flinched at Sherlock's insult, but a smile spread across his face. He ignored the whole Sarah comment also, Sherlock knew John didn't like her like that anymore.
"Now you know how I feel whenever you talk, interesting how much we have in common when I am the one doing the irritating." John snapped back, Sherlock's eyes narrowing as they stared at each other. John turned back away, grumbling angrily about the other male.
After a bit of awkward silence, John got up and stretched. He glanced over to where Sherlock was supposed to be, but no one was there. The flat was silent, the lights dimly lighting the place, John was left alone in a place that suddenly seemed too big without the detective.
"Damn…" John cursed to himself, regretting his words that he spat at the other male. "Suck a drama queen…" he muttered, casting one last glance towards the kitchen he decided to tidy up the place before going to sleep. Turning off the stove which was boiling the hands, washing the dirty dishes in the sink, disposing of the broken petri dish Sherlock had thrown, and ignoring the splattered eyeballs in the microwave, John did his best to clean up. He knew Mrs. Hudson would do the rest, even though she insisted she wasn't their 'housekeeper'. Turning off most of the lights he made his way upstairs to his room, shutting the door behind him as he slowly entered. It was pitch black, and John had to maneuver his way around to reach a lamp. Flicking it on he began to undress, tossing his worn clothes into a hamper that was in his bathroom. He made his way to his wardrobe, quickly finding a pair of black sweats and a grey t-shirt.
Suddenly feeling more tired than before, John turned off the lamp, darkness enveloping the room. John slid under the covers, shifting onto his belly for a comfortable spot. Sighing into his pillow, he began to drift to sleep, not hearing the front door open and close.
Sherlock entered the flat, the cool December air following him in. He needed to go out for a walk around the block once, or maybe three times. His little 'fight' with John was nagging him. He never knew that John was annoyed by Sherlock's habits, even though Sherlock knew how much of a total arse he could be. Sherlock took off his coat and scarf, hanging them on the coat rack. He noted that Mrs. Hudson was already asleep, even though it was barely past 10, which wasn't odd, but by now she would be yelling at him to make sure all the lights were off before he headed to sleep. He flicked off the hallway light, the only light left was coming from upstairs near John's room.
Sherlock climbed the stairs, his hands working off his shirt, tossing it to the floor. He didn't know what would happen if he were to show up in John's room shirtless, but he was confident that the signals John had been giving lately meant something. John's placid and dull mind couldn't grasp the fact that Sherlock knew him too well, and that made things a tad more difficult with this.
Over the past month, Sherlock had noticed that John was developing feelings towards him. At first he was unsure, the quick glances John would give him were normal, and the slight blush that would creep up into John's cheeks whenever Sherlock was close to him, seemed more than enough evidence to prove his theory right. But, Sherlock had to be sure about it all. So, he devised a fight between the two.
John didn't like to fight with Sherlock, because Sherlock always won. But, today Sherlock had to let John have the last words, even though they stung him more than he expected. Sherlock was confident that John would feel horrible afterwards, and possibly go to bed earlier than normal, to think over the quarrel. And, Sherlock was also confident that if he was right so far, he would be able to express his feelings to John tonight.
It is true, Sherlock was smitten. Smitten with a plain human, with no special traits besides being an army doctor. Infatuated with a man who has no selfish thoughts, who uses his courage as a reason to intervene in a problem. A man who drives Sherlock crazy with his constant lip licking, and adorable blushing. Making Sherlock want to manipulate and twist John's feelings, to make the other man whimper and whine underneath him.
As Sherlock climbed the stairs he began to unbuckle his trousers, yet kept them on, stopping in front of John's door. He hesitated for a moment, swallowing hard. He has never felt this way before, and he has never been wrong. But, what if he were wrong tonight? What if he misread John's obvious feelings? Sherlock sighed in frustration, he pushed away those thoughts of doubt away, locking them up deep into his mind, hiding them.
Reaching for the doorknob he slowly pushed the door open, slowly creeping into the dark room. Sherlock's eyes adjusted as he approached John's bed, making out the small figure of a man beneath the covers. Slowly taking off his trousers Sherlock slid out of them, and then slid under the covers next to John.
John shifted next to him, the new form of heat drawing him in. John unconsciously wrapped his arm around the heat, pulling his body close to it. John slightly opened his eyes, and was surprised to see Sherlock next to him. His mind went blank, and his body tensed. Sherlock Holmes was in his bed.
"Sherlock…?" John whispered, his voice a bit raspy with sleep. Sherlock had his eyes shut, lips slightly parted. He was so close to John, his breath warm against his face. John felt Sherlock's skin against his own as he had his arm wrapped around him, but John didn't seem bothered by it. Instead he felt butterflies in his stomach, and his heart was beating so hard in his ears. He still couldn't process why Sherlock was in his bed, but his mind kept shouting to let it be.
John felt Sherlock move closer to him, snuggling closer to him, his head moving into John's chest. John tried not to blush, and soon when Sherlock was softly snoring into his chest, John felt happy. He didn't realize how he was feeling, the sudden thumping in his chest scaring him, but whenever it came to Sherlock, he was always scared of his feelings.
John knew he was in love with Sherlock, for the longest time he knew. But, he was scared his feelings would be rejected by the sociopath, leaving him heartbroken and friendless. John didn't know why Sherlock was in his bed, in his room. Snuggling up to him, but John didn't want to ask or disturb the sleeping man.
"John, you staring at me is making it difficult to sleep. I mean I know I am attractive and all, but still." Sherlock smirked into John's chest, John's breath catching in his chest.
"I-I..I-I'm sorry." John whispered out, making Sherlock snake his arms around John's waist. Sherlock sighed into John's chest.
"It's okay….I'm just glad I was right…"Sherlock muttered, causing John's eyebrows to come together in confusion.
"What are you talking about?" John whispered, earning a small groan from Sherlock.
"John, I knew you liked me...I mean it was blatantly obvious to me, the subtle hints which screamed out 'I like you!' to me." Sherlock whispered in exasperation. "I couldn't take it anymore...Soon I found myself looking your way, and soon others figured it out also. Lestrade said we should just shag and get it over with," Sherlock scoffed," and Molly told me...that I looked sad when I thought you weren't looking at me. At the time I was having what they call, mixed feelings...And then I thought you lost your feelings for me, when you tried to contact that Sarah woman, so I suppose I had to make sure?" John felt his stomach drop, his pulse racing. Sherlock never had doubt in his voice, and this was interesting to John.
"Oh...Sherl-" John cut himself off, his mind racing. John let out a small puff of air before continuing," If.. I don't know, if I would've known that you felt the same..I never would've tried to contact her...I mean the only reason I did it was because being around you with these feelings, made me think I would be rejected...So I avoided you." John felt his throat begin to close around his words, he didn't know what to say, but it was better than not saying anything.
"John, I hope you know this is why you don't have girlfriends. I mean I appreciate the whole 'let's not talk about our feelings', but it's moments like this...when we're both confused, that's when we should speak to each other. Granted I don't like it very much, but I feel a tad better knowing you weren't shagging some fickle woman." Sherlock whispered, making John laugh. John was about to ask 'how did you know?', but then he remembered who he was dealing with. As they settled into each others arms, John now more confident as he held Sherlock, and Sherlock not as tense as he was before. They both wanted to say more, but neither of them could express in words.
"Sherlock...I have to say this, or else my sanity isn't going to last much longer." John murmured into Sherlock's hair, his mind racing. "I...I love you Sherlock...A-and I am glad to have met such a wonderful human in this lifetime…." John felt Sherlock tense at his words, but then he relaxed.
"I was wondering when you'd say it, for a moment there I thought I would have to 'break the ice'...Whatever that means." Sherlock lifted his head up a bit, John so close to him. Sherlock noticed how John licked his lips, John casting glances down to Sherlock's lips. A smirk spread across the detective's face, and he leaned up, his lips connecting with his doctor's.
They laid there, lips connected, sharing a kiss. It may have seemed like just a simple kiss to others, but to these two, it was much more. Their lips melted into each others, fitting perfectly with the other, like a puzzle piece. When John broke the kiss they were both breathing hard, and John felt so excited.
"I too, love you…" Sherlock whispered, laying his head back into John's chest. John was stunned for a bit, disappointment creeping into his thoughts. He sighed, kissing the top of Sherlock's head, and laid back as Sherlock used him as a pillow. John knew Sherlock was new to all this, and it was a good idea to wait. Besides, John knew they had forever to do things. Both he and Sherlock knew that.