Note: I don't own any of the characters from the Sherlock BBC television series, nor any of the characters created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
Couldn't Sleep
It's 2.22 in the morning. Sherlock kept tossing and turning, can't fall asleep.
When I can't sleep I think of you, upstairs in your bedroom, gun in your drawer.
I wonder if we had met some other time whether you'd still live here or would have died.
I know you thought of it, you could have died, finger on the trigger, death on your mind.
I love you, you know, but don't dare say, for fear you'll leave me, you'll go away.
What would I do then without you here? Death on my mind, find somewhere to hide.
The truth is I love you, but hesitate to say. A woman I'm not, how can I make you stay?
I hope you're bisexual and won't turn me down, otherwise I'm fucked, I think I would drown.
Your heart is so big, your sexuality seems so narrow. I love you, you idiot, for me there's no other.
What am I going to say? How make you see? Your place is here, the two of us: you&me.
Can't wait till later, need to tell you right now. Hope you'll hear me, won't throw me right out.
Please, God, hear my prayer, I need John in my life! Can't be without him, I feel broken inside.
He needs to speak with John, right within the next few minutes, can't bear it any longer not to let him know. His worrying that John may eventually form a romantic relationship with a representative of the female sex has been eating away on the amount of hours of sleep he's been able to get these past five days. Since John and the last woman he went out with decided they weren't right for each other. From John's subtle disappointment returning from the two dates he was on with her he deduced they didn't have sex. Good!
He slides out of bed, wraps his dressing gown around himself, stops by the bathroom to pee, checks his countenance in the mirror. He hopes the circles under his eyes won't turn darker, his cheeks look on the verge of hollowed. The mirror reflects his uncertainty how John will react once he tells him. He swallows, washes his hands, dries them.
Barefoot, he makes his way up to John's room. The soles of his naked feet feel grains of sand on the steps, dragged here by John's shoes, his hand registers where the railing is worn smooth, where it's still a little rough. In front of John's room he pauses, puts his ear to the door. Very even breathing with the occasional quiet soft snore tells him that John is sound asleep. He blinks. Certainly John will understand, once he realizes the full scope of how Sherlock is impacted by this uncertainty, that for the sake of his health, which he knows is important to John, he simply cannot wait any longer. It's 2.30 in the morning when Sherlock knocks on John's door.
"John?" There's no answer. Maybe the knock wasn't loud enough, he knocks again, firmer.
"John?" He puts his ear to the door again, hears the click of the lamp on the nightstand being turned on, sees its light reach his feet through the gap underneath the door.
John is coming to, not happy to be woken up. I'm tired, I'm cranky, I need my rest... This better be good or I'll poke him in the chest!
"Sherlock? Bloody hell," he checks the time on his alarm clock, "what is it?"
"I need to speak with you!" Sherlock waits while John's brain is trying to make sense of the situation and sends an answer to his mouth. The four seconds he has to wait feel much longer, give him time to fully realize the seriousness of what he's about to do. His fingers are starting to tremble.
If there was an emergency you'd have rushed in, pulled the duvet off me, told me to sprint.
So what could it be? A toothache, a migraine, a sprain, an experiment gone awry?
Don't know what you're up to, can't wait to hear, it better be good or I'm going to complain!
It's not an emergency, so why are you here? Waiting behind the door at this hour... for fear?
John takes a deep breath, steels himself for whatever it is that Sherlock needs to speak with him about. He sits up higher in bed, pulls the duvet tight under his chest.
"Come in!"
When Sherlock opens the door, John has his face buried in his hands, rubs his eyes. He stays in the door frame, leans against it for support. His hands clutch the fabric inside the pockets of his dressing gown.
"John,... I...," the words get stuck in his throat. Seeing John, his mind goes blank, he looks at his toes. On his left toenail a corner is broken off. He'll have to file the sharp edges to keep it from damaging his socks...
John purses his lips, waits a second. "Well, whatever it is that couldn't wait till later, you'd better spit it out!" He takes a good look at Sherlock, even in the dim light he notices that he doesn't look well. Knowing he often doesn't sleep much when he's working a case, he still shouldn't look this worn from the one he started only two days ago.
You haven't showed up in my room like this before. Whatever it is that's causing trouble, I'm glad you're here to talk about it.
There's no visible attempt from Sherlock to speak or move, so John prompts, "Something keeping you awake?"
Sherlock doesn't even grace this with 'Obviously! How else could I be standing here?!' as he normally would, just nods, his face looks earnest. This must be something serious then, at least in Sherlock's mind. John sits up straighter. He's not sure whether he should get out of bed already to approach Sherlock, tries "Come here," patting the duvet.
Sherlock looks up, pads over to the side of John's bed but keeps a respectable 40 cm distance, hands clasped in front, peers down at him.
What can be so difficult to talk about? I'm here to listen, open your mouth!
As their eyes meet, John can't stand it anymore. "Oh, for heaven's sake!" He leans over far and grabs Sherlock's hand, tugs firmly on his arm, gets him to sit on the edge of the bed. Sherlock looks at their hands. The unexpected physical proximity to John has caused his heart to beat very hard in his chest, his palms are getting sweaty.
John takes Sherlock's pulse unobtrusively. He's stroking Sherlock's hand with his thumb, wants to reassure him. "It's okay, Sherlock. Whatever it is, you can tell me." He means it, squeezes his hand. Maybe he's set the kitchen on fire, or ruined my favorite sweater? Confession doesn't come easy, I'm patient, I'll find out sooner or later... "Hm?" he offers.
"I love you, John," Sherlock blurts out matter-of-factly. Relieved, he wonders whether chicken feel like this after laying an egg. His heartbeat is calming down a little.
John's eyes widen, his eyebrows climb up to his bangs. "You do?" he manages. A tender smile is blossoming across his face, his eyes twinkle. He doesn't let go of Sherlock's hand. "I had no clue! You said at Angelo's..."
"I know what I said at Angelo's," Sherlock interrupts, annoyed with himself. That he considers himself married to his Work has not changed. It's taken him a while to grow to love John, to understand that he can accommodate and indeed wants both in his life: John as his life partner, and The Work, which he is sharing in already. "So, were you interested in me then?" Asking about the past will give him a few seconds' buffer before he will find out about the present, and their future.
"Could have been," John hedges remembering that he denied it at the time. He looks expectantly at Sherlock.
"What about now?" Sherlock's eyes are boring into John's as if to pull up nothing but the absolute truth from his heart.
Time to fess up. "Definitely interested. - Love you, too," John nods.
Sherlock swallows. "Are..., do...," he marvels and relaxes, allows his lips to curve into a soft smile. He senses there's something else John wants to say. "Yes...?"
"I haven't been intimate with a man," John reveals, blushing a little, covers his eyes with his free hand.
"That's fine," Sherlock assures him without hesitation. "Do you mean you haven't had any sexual contact with a male partner, or just that you haven't had anal sex either way?"
Just...? "Any..." John is blushing more.
What if I'm not good at it, inexperienced as I am? Having had intercourse with women will pale in comparison to being with him.
"Please don't worry about that," Sherlock emphasizes. "If it makes you feel any better, I haven't had anal sex either way." While he has had some limited sexual experience with men, he hopes admitting to his own lack of experience in this particular area will give John confidence. Seeing their joined hands feels surreal.
"Look," John starts, "it's very late," the alarm clock shows 2.36 AM, "I need to be up at 5. Remember, I agreed to take the early A&E shift for a sick colleague at Chelsea and Westminster Hospital?"
Sherlock looks puzzled, shakes his head slowly.
"You were looking at me when I told you over supper..." Sherlock's raised eyebrows indicate his surprise he's supposed to know this. "Right,... never mind." Obviously his mind had been elsewhere then, not listening.
To function at A&E where I may see blood and gore I should have six hours of sleep, am not twenty-five anymore.
Want to take my time to love your body also not just your soul, now that I'm permitted, now that you're mine...
"Come here!" John pulls Sherlock into a tight embrace, kisses his neck, then his cheek. His one hand is on Sherlock's back, the other in his hair. Sherlock returns the embrace, kisses John's hair.
John pulls his head away a little from Sherlock's, sighs. "Sherlock..., can we wait with exploring being intimate until after I'm back from work?" He knows that if he lets himself kiss Sherlock, was to open his own mouth and explore his, he'll be swept away and want to explore so much more. His breathing is picking up at the thought.
"Of course," Sherlock whispers by John's ear. "I should let you get back to sleep."
Neither of them lets go, so they sit like this a few minutes longer, holding each other, hands stroking the other's back, or hair, or shoulder, or arm, or neck. Since John has not tried to kiss Sherlock on the mouth nor encouraged Sherlock to kiss him, Sherlock understands that John considers kissing being intimate.
John doesn't want Sherlock to spend the rest of the night by himself. "Could we... would it be okay... can I come downstairs with you?" he asks.
"Downstairs?" Sherlock pulls back, blinks at him.
"Yeah,... your bed? What do you think?"
Sherlock inhales, gets up eagerly, drags John out of bed by his hand.
"Hang on, let me get my slippers, and I need my phone!" John's slippers are beside the nightstand, he slips them on, turns his alarm clock off, grabs his phone.
Sherlock takes John's hand again, leads their way down the stairs, John pulls his bedroom door closed behind him. Together, they make their way to Sherlock's bedroom.
Lying on your right when you fondle me I'll be able to experience your dominant hand... "Are you okay sleeping on the left side of the bed?" Sherlock asks as they enter it.
"Sure, fine." John doesn't care but appreciates being asked. He frowns as Sherlock unplugs the lamp and alarm clock on the nightstand, hands them to him. As Sherlock carries the nightstand to the other side of the bed where John will be sleeping he asks, "Pass me those?" After they're plugged in, he turns the lamp on, resets the alarm clock, then goes to turn out the ceiling light, hangs his dressing gown up on the hook on the back of the door.
"You can use my alarm clock as well," he suggests.
"Yeah..." John sets an alarm for 5 AM on his phone, places it on the nightstand.
"What are we going to do with our clothes?" Sherlock asks just as John also sets the alarm clock. John swallows.
"I was planning to leave my PJs on. Tonight." Given the time, he tries not to sound annoyed but be patient instead. "Why, how do you normally sleep?"
"Naked," Sherlock shrugs. "It feels freer, not restricted, also the sheets feel softer. So... what?" He looks at John directly.
John purses his lips. "Hm, tell you what, I'll take my top off, and you keep your pants on." He pinches the bridge of his nose.
Seeing John unbutton his top, Sherlock rushes over to his dresser to retrieve a fresh pair of pants, sheds his PJs offering John to view his naked behind, then tries to fit his growing erection into the pants before turning around and quickly getting into bed where John is already waiting. Before pulling the duvet up over them both he tries to take in as much of John's naked upper body as possible.
John places a hand on his shoulder. "I'm glad you told me, Sherlock! Turn the light out now? Want to cuddle?" he offers. When Sherlock nods, he places a chaste kiss on Sherlock's lips. "I love you!" He turns the light out, then moves close to Sherlock. They shuffle a bit to get comfortable.
"You okay like this?" John asks in the dark, feels Sherlock's pants-clad erection on his thigh. John wound up a little higher in their shuffle so Sherlock's head is by his cheek and he nuzzles his hair, aims a kiss at his forehead.
"Hmmmm," Sherlock sighs deeply as he relaxes despite feeling John's PJ-bottom-clad erection on his hip. Even though it's dark he luxuriates in being able to touch John's skin, his fingertips tentatively explore his scar tissue.
John hopes Sherlock will sleep through him getting up in just a few hours. "Mm, I do look forward to later..."
"I'm happy," Sherlock states. He feels John's smile on his forehead.
"That's good... Sleep well."
"Good night, John."
(Sherlock:)
It's true, he's here, in my-now-our bed, with me! I'm happy, fantastic, ecstatic, want to shout about it!
Want to let him know every day that he's the one for me, yet "I love you" doesn't feel enough.
My heart ached before, now it's full of joy! He loves me too, I feel overwhelmed.
Sentiment doesn't suck, I admit I was wrong. Protect him always, this precious man, John.
Thank you, God, for answering my prayer. With your help we'll spend the rest of our lives together.
(John:)
Thank you, God, he came to me tonight, confessed his feelings, this is so right!
My friend's my lover now, he's brilliant and gorgeous! I love him to bits, Sherlock's so precious!
Protect him always, keep him in good health. His sleep deficit's huge, he needs more rest.
Let him sleep well tonight, give him wisdom for the case. Help me with this shift at A&E, use me to ease suffering and pain.
Let us be together later today, we'll be thrilled to explore intimacy. Praise be to you, God! Thank you for your mercy!
Content, they snuggle closer together. Sherlock has God and John in his life. He's not going to 'drown'!