* author's note: this all is set before The Reichenbach Fall-episode, as i am still in massive denial that it actually happened... probably set somewhere between Scandal in Bohemia and The Hounds Of Baskerville, if there must be a time-placing... *
1. breaking and entering
He shouldn't have left his laptop where he could find it… Was that a good excuse? or just a lame one to cover his tracks, if caught, which would be almost inevitable… Sherlock glanced around for confirmation that he was indeed alone in the room, and flipped open the small pc that was on the table in front of him, and waited for it to kick into life. John knew by now that his personal belongings were open to be perused, he thought to himself, it wasn't the first time it happened, and Sherlock needed to see, desperately, for some reason, if John had written stuff about the case they were currently on that he could use. Sherlock himself had been unable to find another angle, and John had proved more than once to have a simpler way of looking at things, less convoluted than the things his own brain would come up with usually…
The little password section appeared on the screen, which Sherlock passed with great ease (after Mrs. Hudson's first name and the town in Afghanistan he was stationed in had failed to keep his flat mate out, John had hoped his mother's first name spelt backward would do the trick. To no avail…) and he went straight on to find where John kept his documents. A long list of files came out and Sherlock wandered though a couple, hoping to find the information he was hoping for. He perused some blog entries, a few medical reports, and when all the others seemed to give him no more than he already knew, he clicked onto the one file he'd – uncharacteristically – left alone: Personal Stuff. Even Sherlock had some respect for that. Grudgingly…
Since getting to know him, John had become a kind of obsession with Sherlock. Getting to know the man, beyond the things that impressed the socks off him on that first day in the lab and in the taxi, was pretty hard. John was more of an enigma to him than he himself was to the rest of the world… He would only share with him what he thought was necessary for the smooth running of their working relationship (and some of their personal) and Sherlock had already figured out that his dear flat mate had more emotions that Sherlock had in his little finger… He, too, Sherlock figured, must've been hurt dramatically in his life, so much that it's left scars, but where Sherlock was raised by cold, calculating, analytical people, John came form a fairly loving, warm nest (from what he made up of the bits and pieces), so that he hadn't been changed into a machine, like himself…
Personal Stuff… Sherlock made the cursor hover over the file and waited to double click it. Something was stopping him, but his curiosity took over. Click-click. The document opened before his eyes. Other folders. More titles, and glancing at them, it appeared it was more to do with his therapy than anything else. And then he saw his initials. SH it read. SH? What else could SH stand for? Before he thought he clicked on it, wishing to know what the document contained. Writing popped up.
'…not sure what good it's going to do, all this writing about my feelings, but maybe it will help… can't do much harm surely, tapping away on a laptop which doesn't criticize me or judge… the only one who'll judge me is me and I promise I won't…'
Sherlock smiled at the way even in his writing John was humble and careful, worried about possible retaliations, even if they were only in his head… As he read on, he noticed that the tone went from Very General to Very Specific. He described their meeting, his first impressions and getting to know each other, his reactions to Sherlock's peculiarities, his seemingly increasing admiration, until there was a shift in tone, and the General notes became a kind of letter to Sherlock.
'…the few times that either of us was on the edge of death, have been more traumatic than any of the brushes I'd had in Helmand or wherever else hell was at times in the army… the thought of losing you almost paralyzed me… but you're still here, you're still driving me mad with your weird ways of thinking, your particular ways of working stuff out, your voice that cuts deep into my soul, your eyes that pierce right through me, your hands that flail and express and jesus I so want to be more that just your little helper, your sidekick… the amount of times I catch myself thinking of you, of your eyes and hands and cheekbones and that coat that swishes when you turn around, and that purple shirt that makes my blood boil… god Sherlock…'
A sigh escaped him, and he had to sit back in his chair for a while, letting what he just read sink in. This wasn't a bit of diary writing, getting stuff off his chest, this was a declaration of… love? John was in love with him?! What the…
'…up until falling for you like a boulder, I'd managed to conceal my feelings for other men quite well, really… considering… when I was 18 I had actually had a relationship with another guy, Alex, who was in the same athletics team as I was (when I had a spell of being sporty - lol!) and I'd fallen totally and madly in love with him. Before him there had been girls, even had a girlfriend, but this was different, as if we both 'got' life when being together, as if things seemed good, suddenly. With girls, like now, things were always complicated, the opposite of relaxed… Alex made me feel so good… we did stuff together, talked about the future, about what we wanted to do in life, and the two of us… he was really good looking, very fit and seemed to be in love with me in the same way I felt I was with him, but when it came out to my parents that we were an item, hell broke loose and he bolted, leaving me bruised and very alone… he'd hurt my feelings, and I couldn't handle that and so I decided to keep that part of myself packaged away… no more boys… no more hurt…'
Ah, Sherlock thought. The missing link…
'… until I went into the army, which was pretty stupid, talk about a time bomb ticking away… but when I was with the guys there it wasn't such a tricky thing… my natural ability to care and feel warm towards other human beings in a crisis (quite handy when you're a doctor) was somehow a godsend while in the desert with hell going on around you… nobody minds you being kind to them when they have a leg hanging off… some of the chaps there used me as a kind of nurse in their hours of need, clinging to me for dear life, needing me to be their mum, and I loved doing that… but anyway, that's a different story… I was supposed to deal with my feelings for you… my strong feelings for you… you, who will not return them, cos you're married to your work, as you said in our first proper conversation, our first candle lit dinner… god Angelo was so spot on, the bastard… he could see it, that you were right for me, or that I was right for you… whatever… Suppose I should just learn to accept that things are the way they are… I'd rather have you in my life the way it is now, than losing you cos I freak you out with all my feelings…'
Sherlock closed his eyes and tried to make sense of what he's just read. John.. His dear John, the only friend he ever had, was in love… with him… Now there was a case to be solved...
-x-x-x-x-x-
- to be continued -
