Hello everyone! It has been a long time sine I've written something, but I really enjoyed working on this.
I hope you guys enjoy it!
Opening Their Eyes
Sherlock is a closed off, arrogant, psychopath (or sociopath, depending on who you're talking to), incapable of feeling, expressing, and seeing other's emotions. At least that's what most people thought. And in their defense, they seemed to have a lot of evidence. No had ever seen Sherlock with anyone, of either gender (and there was a pool at the Yard as to which one he preferred). It seemed like he could only hold conversations if he was insulting the other person. If anyone ever tried to get close to him, they were immediately shoved away and (in some cases) reduced to tears. In fact, the only people that seemed to care about Sherlock despite him being… Sherlock was Mrs. Hudson, his landlady, Lestrade, his employer, and Molly Hooper, the pathologist. And even they didn't know much about him. There was the mysterious brother, but no one had ever seen him, so they didn't count him. Beside, if the brothers were anything alike, they didn't think there was much hope there.
So when they met a man that seemed to disprove all of this, it took a moment to realize that there was something special about the both of them.
Lestrade had pulled out his phone the moment he had walked onto the crime scene. In his seven years of being a detective he had never seen anything like this. They were in a small abandoned house, and every single room was covered in blood. It looked like it had been thrown, smeared and painted across every surface. But there was not a single body. When Sherlock had arrived, he walked right past Lestrade and Sally,took one look and broken out in a huge grin.
"Excellent." He said before pulling out the his magnifying glass and walking away.
Sally sneered in disgust. "Why did you call him?" She said, turning to Lestrade. "We don't need him."
Lestrade scoffed. "So you have something?" When Sally didn't say anything, He smiled. "That's why I called him."
"Oh, come on! We should not allow someone who is barely human and gets off on blood and guts to come to a crime scene! He doesn't care about the victims or families. Hell, I don't think he could care about someone else if he wanted to!"
"Alright Sally, enough." Lestrade said. "You know that a number of our cases would still be unsolved if it weren't for Sherlock."
"137, to be exact." Sherlock said as he strode back over to them. Ignoring Sally's eyeroll, he immediately started to tell them everything he had found, starting from the number of people killed (6), to the profession of the killer (artist). Just as he was starting to get into the specifics, his phone rang. Sherlock frowned, then muttered "bloody Mycroft" as he quickly answered his phone.
"This better be important." Sherlock said sharply. Lestrade was about to turn to Sally when suddenly Sherlock went pale (well, paler than he already was) and a look of fear crossed his face. "When?" Lestrade thought that he saw Sherlock's hand shake ever so slightly. "Is" Sherlock quickly cleared his throat. "Is he…" After a moment, all the tension drained of Sherlock's body to be replaced with tired relief. "Oh, thank god." Another pause. "No, Mycroft, it's a common expression one uses to express relief."
By now, Lestrade and Sally were staring at Sherlock like he had grown another head.
"Where is he?" Sherlock said into the phone. Then Lestrade had to resist the urge to back away as a cold fury filled Sherlock's eyes. "Why the hell didn't you call me earlier?" He said in a fierce whisper. A pause. "That is not your call to make!" He yelled, causing Sally and Lestrade to jump. "Tell him I'm coming. I'll be there in 20 minutes." Sherlock then hung up the phone, and quickly turned to Lestrade. "Go to the Camberwell College of Arts, the murderer is a fourth year whose thesis is on the color red. Also, I am going to be busy for the next month, so please refrain from calling me."
Lestrade mouth was hanging open, and he seemed unable to speak. Sally, on the other hand, had no such problem.
"What the hell? You come here practically skipping and now you're taking a month off? You're not even paid to do this! And who is 'him'? Hey, freak, I'm talking…" But Sherlock had already walked away.
Sally spun on Lestrade. "What the hell was that? And who is 'him'!"
Lestrade was still staring dumbly in the direction Sherlock had gone. "I have no idea."
0o0o0o0 Lestrade 0o0o0o0
Greg Lestrade didn't see Sherlock for three weeks. It was like he had disappeared. The day after they had been at the crime scene, Lestrade had gone by 221B to make sure Sherlock was okay, but he hadn't been there. And he wasn't there the next day, either. Lestrade then tried calling every few days, but had only gotten through on the tenth try. And all Sherlock had said was "Stop calling, Lestrade. Bothering me isn't going to stop your wife from cheating" before he hung up. Although, he thought he heard someone laugh in the background before the call ended. But he just chalked that up to his imagination. After that, Lestrade decided to respect Sherlock wishes, and didn't contact him. But on the third week, three people were found in their houses dead, with no sign of forced entry, and all their faces had been fixed in a permanent scream. He had tried to solve it without Sherlock, but by the third victim, he was desperate. He called Sherlock first, but he hadn't answered, so he decided to just go over and see him.
When he got to 221B, he was surprised to find it completely quiet. Huh, usually I can hear explosions or the violin Lestrade thought as he knocked on the door. He heard the shower running, and considered leaving, but the shower was still on when he heard rushed footsteps coming towards the door, and then it opened to reveal a half wet Sherlock. What the hell? Lestrade opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Sherlock's glare.
"What the do you want?" Sherlock asked, shifting back in forth impatiently.
"Uh, three people were killed…"
"No." Sherlock said curtly before trying to close the door, but Lestrade stuck his foot out and pushed his way in.
"First of all, ow." Lestrade said, shaking his foot. "Second of all, I haven't seen you in three weeks! Now can you please tell me what the hell you've been doing in…" Lestrade stopped talking, because the look Sherlock was giving seemed to be burning a hole through him. For a moment, they just looked at each other. Then Sherlock spoke through gritted teeth. "I told you to not contact me for a month. It has only been three weeks. Now I know that I'm more intelligent than most, but I had assumed that you knew how to read a calend-"
Lestrade held up his hand. "Hold on." He listened to the silence for a second before turning back to Sherlock. "There's someone here, isn't there?" Sherlock's face remained neutral, but Lestrade saw something flash in his eyes, so he knew he was right. "Hey, I may not be a genius, but I'm still a bloody detective." He pointed to the bathroom. "Showers don't turn off by themselves."
Sherlock scoffed. "My faith in Scotland Yard has been restored." He said, while gesturing towards the door.
But now Lestrade was curious. He had never seen anyone else in the apartment other than Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson. "So who is it?"
Sherlock frowned. "None of your business." He said, then went and opened the door. "Goodbye."
"Now wait a second." Lestrade said. "Why won't you tel-"
Suddenly, a yelp followed by a loud crash came from the bathroom. Lestrade turned to Sherlock to ask him about it, but he was gone. Confused, he look back towards the bathroom to see Sherlock already rushing in. He started to go after him, but decided that was not the best idea. He thought of leaving, but curiosity won that argument, so he just stood and listened.
"Are you okay?" He heard Sherlock say. Lestrade could hear the concern in his voice.
"Yeah. I don't think I tore a stitch, so that's good. Can you get my towel?" A male voice said.
"Why? I've already seen you naked." Lestrade's mouth dropped.
Oh my god, Sherlock has a man he's seen naked in his shower. Lestrade had always had suspicions about Sherlock's sexuality, and there was that pool going at the Yard, but this… Lestrade had never expected this.
"Sherlock! Whoever's in the living room can hear you!" The man yelled.
"John, your anonymity was ruined the moment you fell. I think he's capable of deducing how the man in my shower relates to me."
"Fine, but I still need to leave this room and I rather not do it in my birthday suit." The man, John, said.
A few minutes later, Sherlock led a towel clad man out of the bathroom. Lestrade couldn't help but stare. John was short, with short blond hair (which at the moment was soaking wet), and had stitches running along a wound in his shoulder.
Sherlock noticed Lestrade staring and smirked. "John, the man staring at you is Detective Inspector Lestrade. Lestrade, this is John."
John was looking at the ground, face slowly turning bright red, so Lestrade stuck out his hand. "It's really nice to meet you."
John looked up at Lestrade, smiled and stuck out his hand, bumping into Lestrade's before grasping it. "Same here, although I wish I were wearing a few more layers."
Lestrade smiled as they shook. "It's fine, I've seen Sherlock in less."
John laughed as Sherlock frowned. "My clothes were covered in acid! I had to take them off."
John looked puzzled.. "Why did you have… Never mind, I don't want to know." John started to rub his eyes, but Sherlock swatted his hand away. After frowning at Sherlock, John cleared his throat. "Uh, while this has been great, I would love to…" He gestured down to the towel.
Sherlock smiled at John. It was one of the rare times that Lestrade had seen Sherlock genuinely smile. "Of course." Then he turned to Lestrade. "I will be calling you in a week. If you really need my help, you can send me the file and I will take a look at it. Goodbye." Then Sherlock wrapped his arm around John and led him into the bedroom.
Lestrade stared at the bedroom, stunned, then turned and left. It was only when he was about to start the car that he realized what was different about John. After thinking about what that meant, he smiled, and started the car. Sally is going to flip.
0o0o0o0 Mrs. Hudson 0o0o0o0
Coming back from her sister's, Martha Hudson heard people talking upstairs. Oh, I should make some snacks for Sherlock's company.
Putting her suitcases down, she quickly went to work, making some tea and biscuits. But just as she was taking the biscuits out of the oven, she heard someone come down the stairs and out the door. Oh, well, Sherlock probably hasn't eaten in a while. He is still too skinny! So she put everything on a tray and went upstairs.
"Yo ho! Sherlock! I made you something!" She said as she walked in. He wasn't in the living room, so she put the tray on the only clear spot in the kitchen. He really needs to clean this place up. Noticing that the sink was filled with dishes, she couldn't help but start to wash them.
She was halfway through when she heard Sherlock come into the living. "There you are, I made yo-" She stopped when she noticed that he wasn't alone. Holding Sherlock's hand was a small man in a jumper. He seemed to be looking at her, and looked a little bit nervous. "Oh, hello there."
"Mrs. Hudson, this is John. He will be staying with us."
Mrs. Hudson smiled. "Hello."
"Hi." John said. "So, you're the landlady?"
"Yes I am, but Sherlock seemed to think I'm his housekeeper." Mrs. Hudson laughed. "Although I don't mind doing some chores. I almost done with the dishes."
"Oh, do you need help?" John asked, seeming to ignore Sherlock's look of surprise.
"That would be wonderful!" She said.
Mrs. Hudson noticed John squeeze Sherlock's hand before slowly making his way to the sink, keeping his hand trailing on the chairs and table until he got there. He groped for the towel, and then started to carefully lift the washed dishes and dry them.
At first they worked in comfortable silence, but after a few minutes, Mrs. Hudson's curiosity got the best of her. "So, how did you two meet?"
John smiled. "I was on leave from the army, and was in a cab to my sister's when Sherlock 'commandeered' it. His words, not mine. Anyway, he said that it was a matter of national security that the cabbie take him to the other side of London. Obviously, I was not happy with this, and we started to fight. But by the time we got to Sherlock's destination, which was an abandoned warehouse, I was completely smitten with him. It took him a whole week to see that he felt the same. I still hold that over him."
Mrs. Hudson was surprised. "So you two are…"
John laughed. "Yeah, we've been 'together' for over a year, I guess. I was only in London for two weeks before I had to go back to Afghanistan, so we wrote letters and Skyped each other. But about a month ago, my unit was hit, and I was injured, so I was discharged. When Sherlock found out, he said I could live with him. If that's alright with you."
"Of course I'm alright with it! Actually, Mrs. Turner, who lives two doors down, has two boys who are married. I can introduce you if you want."
"That would be great. I doubt Sherlock would go with me, though."
"That sounds boring." Sherlock yelled from the living room.
"Everything is boring to you." John said with a smile.
"That's not true. I find crime scenes and you interesting." Sherlock said, coming into the kitchen and grabbing a cup of tea.
"Wow, I'm honored." John said with fake enthusiasm.
"Well, you are less idiotic than most people." Sherlock said as he took the plate in John's hand and put it away.
Mrs. Hudson couldn't stop smiling at the two of them. Finishing the last dish, she turned and looked at the both of them. "I'm so happy for you two!" She exclaimed, hugging John. She felt him startle, but after a second he relaxed and hugged her back. Letting go of John, Mrs. Hudson turned to Sherlock and hugged him as well.
"Well, I need to unpack, so I'll leave you two alone." Mrs. Hudson said when she finished hugging Sherlock.
"It was nice to meeting you." John said. He smiled, then reached out a hand out and grabbed Sherlock's arm.
"You two are too cute!" Mrs. Hudson said, clapping her hands together. "Alright, I'm leaving." She said, seeing Sherlock's scowl.
When she got back to her apartment, she could not stop thinking about John. Then she really thought about John. And she realized that she hadn't noticed something big about him. But when she thought about it, she realized that it made her love John, and Sherlock, even more.
0o0o0o0 Molly 0o0o0o0
Everyone knew that Molly Hooper had a crush on Sherlock. And even though she realized that Sherlock would never feel the same, she took comfort in the fact that he wasn't with anyone. It let her imagine that one day Sherlock would figure out that he was in love with her, and he would sweep her off her feet, and they would go off into the sunset together…
Shaking her head, Molly looked down at the blood sample on the table. Goodness, I have got to stop daydreaming about Sherlock. She went back to work with a sigh. A few minutes later her phone light up, and when she picked it up she saw that she had a text from Sherlock.
Need a few samples for an experiment. Will be there in 2 minutes. SH
Huh, he usually doesn't warn me. Still, Molly couldn't help but smile. Abandoning the microscope, she immediately went into her purse and dug out her lipstick. She put some on, making sure to check herself in the table reflection. Fluffing her hair, she straightened her lab coat and tried to appear as though she was really busy, when in reality she had been staring at the same slide for 20 minutes. A few moments later, she heard the door open. She glanced up, wanting to seem casual, but did a double take when she saw that he wasn't alone. With him was a short blond man wearing a fluffy jumper and dark sunglasses. "Oh, hi." She was about to go back to work when she noticed that their arms were linked together. She tried to keep the look of surprise off her face, but knew that she failed. Sherlock and his friend didn't seem to notice, though, as Sherlock led the man to a chair and help him sit.
"I'll be right back, okay?" Sherlock said to the man. After the man nodded, Sherlock glanced over as he started to leave. "Oh, hello Molly. I need some different hair samples."
"Uh, um, you, uh, there are some bodies in the next room." Molly stuttered, turning bright red. She noticed the man was trying not to smile, which just made her blush even more. When she looked back at Sherlock, he was staring at her intently.
"I see you're trying the lipstick again." Sherlock said.
"Oh, yeah." Molly said, covering her mouth.
Then Sherlock turned and walked out the room, leaving Molly alone with the mystery man. He seemed to be staring at his hands, and Molly didn't know what to do.
"So you're friends with Sherlock. Haven't met many of those." The man said while he fiddled with his fingers.
"Yeah, that's because he doesn't have many." Molly said with a smile. "I'm Molly."
The man smiled back. "John."
Molly started to work again, but in the end she couldn't resist. "So, uh, you're a friend of Sherlock's as well?"
John started to turn red. "We're a little more than friends."
Now Molly knew that her mouth was open. She closed it, and John seemed to be nice enough not to notice.
"You guys are a couple?" She said, still a little hopeful that he meant best friends.
"Yeah. Technically, we've been dating for a year."
"A year?" She squeaked. She could feel tears start to form. Why am I crying? He doesn't even know I like him. Wiping them away, she cleared her throat before trying again. "I mean a year. Wow, I didn't know he was dating someone."
John smiled. "Well I was in Afghanistan until a month ago, so we mostly wrote letters to each other, with a few calls and video chats here and there."
"That's great." Silence. "Um, I don't want to be too invasive, but… isSherlockagoodboyfriend?" Molly said in a rush. She didn't think that she could be more red if she painted her face.
John laughed. "He is. Don't get me wrong, he's still a royal ass, and sometimes he forgets that I exist if he becomes engrossed in something, but when it comes down to it I know he cares about me a lot, and I don't know what I'd do without him." John said with a smile.
Now Molly felt tears run down her face. "I'm sorry." She said, grabbing a tissue.
John cocked his head. "For what? I promise he's not that bad." He said, looking amused.
Now Molly was utterly confused. Then she looked at John and thought about everything she had seen, and suddenly she realized that she had missed something obvious.
"Oh my god, you're…"
She could see the realization dawn on his face, and it looked like he was about to say something, but at that moment Sherlock came back into the room with bags full of hair. "Okay, John, we can go home now." He walked over to John and grabbed his hand.
"I'm so sorry, John. I didn't even notice." Molly said, realizing that she in fact could be more red.
"You don't have to apologize, Molly. It seems as though most people don't notice." John said.
"Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade didn't realize until after they had left." Sherlock said as they started to leave. "So I applaud you for figuring it out faster than them."
"Thank you, I guess." She said, not sure if that was a compliment.
"It was lovely talking to you, Molly." John said with a smile.
"Uh, nice talking to you too." Molly said. She wanted to say something else, but by the time she thought of anything, Sherlock and John were gone.
Sighing, Molly turned and looked down at the microscope and let her tears run unchecked for a minute. Then she cleaned her face, which included taking off the lipstick, and threw back her shoulders. After that, she took out her computer and looked up cats, because although she was happy for Sherlock and John, she still needed some cheering up.
0o0o0o0 Sally (and Anderson) 0o0o0o0
Sally Donovan wouldn't say that she hated Sherlock. More like a strong, strong, dislike. She acknowledged that he was smarter than most people, and if he wasn't one of the coldest people in the world she might even find him attractive. But his looks were ruined by his arrogance, his inability to care about another human being, lack of emotions in general. In fact, the only reason she was sure he was human was because she had seen him bleed numerous times. She knew that as a police officer she shouldn't treat a civilian the way she did, but the freak deserved it. No one should be able to know so much about someone with one glance. It was just unnatural. So she had been relieved when Sherlock didn't show up to a crime scene for a whole month. It was like an early Christmas present. No insults. No talking about her relationship with Phillip. It was the one the best months she had had since she'd met Sherlock. And it was one of the worst moments when a month later she was talking to Anderson and he saw his eyes widen.
"Noooooo!" Anderson yelled. "Life was so good!"
Confused, Sally turned and groaned as she saw Sherlock strut up to the crime.
"Hello Sally. Hello Anderson. It's been a while." Sherlock said as he walked up to them. "I see for you guys it's only been a couple hours."
He had only been there for 30 seconds and already she wanted to throw him off the crime scene. "Freak. You just ruined a wonderful month."
Sherlock smirked. "It must have been, with you not working and all. Did you know that the number of cases solved this month has been the lowest all year?"
Sally felt herself turn red, but couldn't think of anything to say as Sherlock walked past her onto the crime.
"Don't listen to that psychopath, Sally." Anderson said. "He just wants to upset you."
"I know that." Sally snapped. "It's just so annoying that he disappears for a month, then reappears, while the rest of us have been working the whole time." She turned and glared at Sherlock as he walked up to the body on the ground and started to examine it.
"Would it make you feel better if I told you that my wife's visiting her sister?" Anderson said with a smile.
Sally tried to seem nonchalant. "Oh, really?" She brushed her hands against his arm. "Do you need some company?"
"I think you know what I need…"
"Good God, I can feel the sexual tension from over here!" Sherlock yelled, causing all the officers to turn and stare at Sally and Anderson. Some look uncomfortable, others were trying to hide their laughs.
"Insufferable bastard." Anderson muttered as he walked away.
Sally knew she should go to the crime scene, but the thought of being near Sherlock was too much at the moment, so she stayed by the tape and helped the control the crowd. She had only been there for a few minutes when a blind man walked slowly up to the tape. He was wearing black sunglasses and had a white cane, but seemed to still be hesitant with his movements, as if he was not used to using it. See, we don't need Sherlock. I can "deduce" things.
"Sir, do you need some help?" She asked, putting a hand on the man's shoulder.
The man startled for a moment, his whole body tensing before he relaxed.
"Yeah, uh, I'm looking for someone. They said I could meet them here." He shuffled his feet around, looking uncomfortable with the whole situation.
Sally felt sympathetic for this stranger. He obviously wasn't used to being blind and felt self conscious .
"Okay, why don't you tell me their name, and I'll radio to see where they are. My name is Detective Donovan, by the way."
The man's mouth dropped. "You're Sally Donovan? Sherlock's told me about you."
Sally blinked in surprise. "You know Sherlock Holmes?"
"Yeah, he's who I'm looking for. Is he here?" The man said.
Sally sighed. Sherlock must be using this blind man for his own gain, and Sally would not let Sherlock use an innocent like that.
"Look. I don't know how you and Sherlock are connected, but if I were you, I would stay far away from him."
The man stiffened. "Excuse me?"
If Sally saw the waves of tension coming off the stranger, she chose to ignore it. "He is the biggest freak I have ever met. A certified psychopath. He gets off on dead bodies." She finally noticed the look on the man's face."I'm just saying, you seem like a good guy, and I don't want you to become mixed up in something bad."
The man cleared his throat. "Thank you for your advice, but I think that I'm going to be fine." Sally could here a glimmer of hostility in his voice, and it put her on edge. "Hey, I'm just trying to help you, but if you want to spend time with the Freak, then by all means." She turned around. "Sherlock, someone's asking for you!"
Even from far away, Sally could see Sherlock's face light up when he saw the man.
"John!" Sherlock yelled as he practically ran over to them. Then Sally's eyes fell out of her head as she watched the man, John, kiss Sherlock and wrap his arm around him.
Sherlock seemed to finally notice Sally standing there. "It seems you've already met Donovan." He said to John.
"Yeah, she was just telling me about you, actually." John said with a smile.
Sherlock laughed. It was the first time Sally had heard Sherlock laugh without it being at someone's idiocy. "I'm sure it was all good things."
"Aren't you going to introduced me?" Sally asked. Lestrade had told her that he'd met Sherlock's boyfriend, but she had thought that he was just messing with her.
Sherlock turned and frowned at Sally, but John just smirked in her direction.
"Hello, I'm John Watson, Sherlock's boyfriend of a year." He said as he stuck his hand out.
"A year? You couldn't possibly have hid him from us for a year!" Sally said, ignoring John's hand, and talking to Sherlock like John wasn't there.
"He didn't hide me. I have been in Afghanistan, so we wrote letters." John said with a frown. "He wrote about you sometimes. How's… Anderson, is it?"
Sally felt herself turn red as Sherlock let out a bark of laughter. She was about to give them a piece of her mind when she heard someone come up behind her.
"Oi! Whose this?" Anderson said as he came up beside them.
"Apparently, this is Sherlock's boyfriend, John." Sally said.
Anderson laughed. "No, really, who is this?" John's frown seemed to deepen.
" We should get to lunch, John. Let me just tell Lestrade who the murderer is." Sherlock said, before walking away, leaving John alone with Sally and Anderson.
"So, are you with Sherlock because you can't see how much a freak he is?" Anderson said with a sneer. Sally couldn't help but cringe. Insulting Sherlock was one thing, but a blind man? She could see the restrained anger coming off of John.
"I want you guys to listen really closely, okay?" He was speaking calmly, but Sally felt the power and authority behind it. "Sherlock is the most brilliant man that I know, and could probably run circles around you. So if I ever hear you call my amazing boyfriend a freak or psychopath, you will regret it, understand?"
Sally felt a shiver run through her. She knew that this was not an empty threat. Glancing at Anderson, she could tell that he realized the how serious John was.
Taking the silence as agreement, John nodded. "Good."
Sherlock came back at the moment and took John's hand. "Come on, John, we have a reservation at Angelo's in twenty minutes." He started to pulling John away while waving a taxi down.
"Nice meeting you both." John yelled as they got in a cab, and then they were gone.
"Who does that bloke think he is, threatening us like that?" Anderson fumed, turning to Sally for some sort of agreement.
For a moment, Sally thought over her encounter with John Watson. Then she smiled. " I kinda like him." She said. If there was one person in the world perfect for Sherlock Holmes, it would definitely be John Watson. She thought as she walked away from a bewildered Anderson.
0o0o0o0 Mycroft 0o0o0o0
Walking into Sherlock and John's flat, Mycroft opened the door to find John sitting alone in a chair, his hands brushing over the bumps of a Braille book. John's head had turned slightly when he had entered, but then he smirked.
"Sherlock is sleeping for once, Mycroft, so I would appreciate it if you would come back another time." John said, hand still skimming the pages.
"Yes, I know how Sherlock crashes after completing a case. That's why I came now, when we were less likely to be interrupted." Mycroft said, taking a seat across from John.
John raised an eyebrow. "Really? Wow, what an honor." He said sarcastically, before going back to his book.
"Getting better at Braille, I see?" Mycroft said, as he watched John's fingers move swiftly.
"Yeah," John said with a smile. "This is actually Gray's Anatomy. Sherlock was able to get me a copy."
"How...nice." Mycroft said. "Actually, that ties into what we need to talk about. I know that Sherlock cares about you a great deal, and I just want to be sure that you feel the same way."
Mycroft noticed how John stiffened. "Excuse me?" John said with a frown.
Mycroft put on a sickly sweet smile. "You know how much I care about Sherlock's well being. And I had never seen him care about someone before he met you. I would dare say that he… loves you." He heard John's breath catch, but kept going. "So I know that Sherlock would be more than devastated if things didn't work out between you two, and I would hate to see Sherlock turn back to some of his old habits."
For a moment, they sat there in complete silence. Slowly, John stood. "I'm only going to say this once." John said in an even voice. "I would never, ever hurt Sherlock. He is the best thing that has ever happened, and I am going to stay with him as long as he will allow me. And I don't know about Sherlock, but I know I love him. So if that's all, I would like if you left right now."
Mycroft blinked, then smiled. "Very well, I'll be on my way." He headed towards the door, paused, then turned around. "Just one more thing. How could you tell that it was me at the door?"
For a second, a smiled slipped onto John's face. "Your umbrella. It makes a distinct tapping sound."
Impressed, Mycroft hummed in approval then left.
A few moments later, John heard footsteps come from the bedroom. Sighing, John turned in in that general direction.
"I'm sorry Sherlock, did we wake you?" John said, holding his hand out for Sherlock to take. When he felt Sherlock's hand grasp his, he couldn't help but smile.
"It's fine, love. Mycroft's footsteps could wake the comatose." Said Sherlock's sleepy voice. John felt Sherlock pulling him forward, and soon he was wrapped in Sherlock's arms. John could feel Sherlock's silk shirt, smell his soap (lemongrass) and the slightly antiseptic smell that seemed to always be on him.
"Come back to bed with me." Sherlock said. John could feel the rumble of his voice in his chest.
"I would love to." John said. Taking Sherlock's hand, he trusted Sherlock completely as he was guided to their room.
"By the way, for once in his life Mycroft was right." Sherlock mumbled as they got into bed.
John was confused. He knew that it showed on his face because he heard Sherlock laugh. "About what?"
John suddenly felt lips pressing against his. He let himself melt into Sherlock as gave him a proper kiss. When he felt Sherlock pull back, he was about to complain, but Sherlock spoke first.
"I love you too."
John felt like his face was going to split in two from the smile spread across it. He didn't know what to say, so he just tilted his head until his lips met Sherlock's. Soon they fell asleep in each others arms.
Thanks for reading!
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