TheDarkestShinobi: I was ensnared, mesmerized and taken by Sherlock. Now, I've only seen the first 5 episodes and 20 minutes of the 6th. (I'll get to it soon enough but NO SPOILERS PLEASE) Don't ask me how, it just worked that way. That being said, I may not know the characters as well as you do but I'm going to give it a whirl and I hope that you'll enjoy it.
Also, I'm from America, I'll try to get my lifts and chips right but no promises, so if I make a mistake let me know so I can fix it!
Start:
You couldn't pick up a piece of paper without seeing his face, reading his name. Sherlock had become famous. Of course it irritated him, not much undercover could be done when the world knew your face. John's blogging never helped, although no one seemed to remember the blogger was on these adventures too.
John shifted through the papers and Sherlock watched. Weight on toes, leaning forward, clear signs of eagerness; that and the fact he still had crumbs on his fingers. His eyebrows were creased but his eyes were wide. He was hopeful as well then. Sherlock watched him come undone, the fingers loosened and the crease in his forehead deepened, his mouth turned downwards and his feet settled. Sherlock watched him put the paper down and look up at him.
"What are you looking for?" John smiled in a way that hid his lips more than showed them, he wasn't happy.
"Nothing. Oh, you were in the paper." That was obvious; his picture was on the cover, ducking into his coat with the ridiculous hat on. John's look shifts to the same one he gets when Sherlock calls him 'Average' or 'Stupid'.
He frustrated then, but why? Sherlock lets out a breath as he settles into his chair. John must want to be more than average. But John never showed signs of wanting to improve to others; he just kept it to himself, and Sherlock.
"I'm going out."
"We're out of milk."
Lastrade had given him a semi interesting puzzle; series of murders, twins, being tied together stark naked like they were still in the womb. The first case went cold over twenty years ago and two omre showed up the same way. It took him a few hours, but the woman responsible was rather sloppy. It was an imitation act, which was disappointing because the first crime was so perfect, it would have been fun.
Sherlock was given a full page article. John didn't even bother to do more than skim it.
Next case was gang related. Italians. Trying to smuggle drugs, not nearly as interesting as the Black Lotus, but it was enough for a morning. It wasn't a full article this time, but every page seemed to have a picture of him. He was getting too big, he didn't like it. John didn't seem to like it either.
John wanted to be noticed, Sherlock concluded. The media never ran stories about him, and his blog led to Sherlock fans, not fans or Dr. Watson. He had also noticed they had meals together more often than not now. John's pupils were dilated the last time.
This could be troubling. He helped John with the dishes that night and grabbed his wrist instead of a plate once. Elevated. John cleaned the dishes longer than normal, more thoroughly than normal or even necessary.
Him. John wanted to be more to him.
"You should pack your things and move out." Sherlock said later that night, as John was getting ready to go for a walk. There was disbelief on his face.
"Excuse me?"
"Move out." And Sherlock's deep voice had no hint of emotion. "It seems we can no longer live together." Shoulders slumped, shaking of the head.
"And why is that?"
"You've an emotional attachment to me."
"Of course I do, we're friends." And his eyes checked the floor. Oh John, you should know better than to give yourself away like that.
"No. Don't take me for a fool, you think I haven't noticed? You walk closer to me now; you're trying harder to be useful. So much that you're becoming less useful. Your pulse is elevated around me, and your pupils dilate. Even now, the way you looked to the floor. And you've bumped into me five times in the last month. For a civilian, maybe that's normal, but you've had military trailing. It's obvious John." And his head tilted away in disgust and anger. "So, goodbye." John's eyes are wide, and he doesn't respond at first, meaning it is all true. It's silent for a second more.
"I'll get my stuff later." He finally says. He pauses before looking away, and again after getting his coat. He holds the doorknob too long as he opens it and holds the door open to long. He fixes his cuffs. His hands clench.
He wants me to stop him. I won't. He's gotten far too close, he wants too much. He will become a hindrance. Not only his feelings for me, but because it would not be hard to form reciprocal feelings. I could love him, easily. A weakness. There was only one solution.
"Get out."
The door slams.
…
He spins in his chair, the man in the suit worth more than a house. He lets his shoe catch the edge of the desk as he puts the picture of the man on it. Blonde hair, blue eyes, Dr. Watson was quite the catch, although that had more to do with the man he was closest too. A phone rings and he picks it up without hesitation. A smile slowly breaks out across his face that he doesn't bother to hide.
Moriarty laughed to himself. He was going to play a little game with Sherlock. He was going to burn and he would be the one to light the fire.
Chapter End: Thoughts?