A/N: First, let me say thank you! I was surprised that so many of you liked the previous story. I wasn't sure how it'd fair, but y'all liked it and I'm glad you did. So, thank you! Next, here's the next installment. I hope that you all like this one as much as you liked the first one. R&R. Enjoy!
Pouting: A Case Study by Doctor John H. Watson
Contrary to popular belief, John isn't as stupid as he seems. While he realized that there are things he will never know or understand, as is the case with a vast majority of the world's population, he is definitely not stupid. As a doctor, he's learned how to read people's body language, tone of voice, and overall behavior. Doing so has allowed him to help patients above and beyond what they initially needed help with. Not only that, but it's saved his life quite a few times.
So he wasn't stupid; he just chose not to speak up about a lot of things. He observed and watched and kept to himself. Unlike Sherlock, who almost always had something to say about, well, anything and everything his perceptive gaze took in. As bloody brilliant and fantastic as he was, John understood that, to other people, Sherlock could be downright annoying. Donovan and Anderson expressed so much merely in facial expressions. Lestrade, to his credit, tried to have patience whenever he dealt with Sherlock, but sometimes the detective inspector's temper ran short. Mycroft was Mycroft; much like Sherlock, it was hard to describe him except for his being, well, Mycroft. Lord, if Sherlock ever figured out that John had compared them, he'd never stop pouting.
Oh yes. Sherlock Holmes did in fact pout. Regardless of his denial that he simply did not pout, John knew every well that he did. He had seen it himself, or else he would have believed Sherlock when he stated quite firmly that he didn't pout. It happened not long after they met and John couldn't help but chuckle and grin at the sight. Of course, Sherlock's eyes, sharp and quick as always, looked right at him after it happened and that only made John laugh harder. A frown had worked its way on Sherlock's face at that point and he told John, in a loud voice so that Lestrade and everyone else could hear, that he didn't pout.
John remained unfazed. How could he believe Sherlock when he had seen the man pout himself? Granted, he wasn't too sure why he had pouted in the first place, but he had a sneaking suspicious that it may have had something to do with that Anderson bloke. He wasn't entirely sure, though, and part of him really didn't care. All John knew was that the pouting was quite funny and adorably sweet at the same time and he found that he liked seeing Sherlock pout (because, really, seeing Sherlock pout always gave him a good chuckle and made him smile).
Not too long after that, John figured out exactly why Sherlock pouted when they were at a crime scene. He had been picking up little indicators the more crimes they solved together and he had noticed something. One, it usually started with the text from Lestrade. John had to observe Sherlock very, very carefully, but whenever Lestrade would text him about a case, there'd be a very slight, almost nonexistent twitch to Sherlock's left eye. It lasted no longer than a second or two, but it was there. Two, as soon as Donovan came into sight, Sherlock would practically crowd John to the point where, on a very bad day, the doctor would get a little annoyed. And finally, Sherlock would glare at Anderson until he left the scene or until they left. Those three indicators, along with others, told John that something was up with Sherlock.
Of course, he became fully aware of what was going on when Anderson, for some reason or another, struck up a conversation with him while Sherlock was busy observing. John, trying to be polite, nodded and responded accordingly. Before the conversation even started, Sherlock's head had snapped up and John saw the pout before it turned into a glare that focused entirely on Anderson. It didn't take long for Sherlock to finish up and when he walked over to John, he reached out and placed a hand on his back, ushering them both away from the crime scene. Now, John may not have had a very successful love life, but he was experienced enough to realize that Sherlock was jealous.
It all made perfect sense. The pouting, the glares, the touches that started after that and never ceased to end. Sherlock's irritation at Donovan, Anderson and even, at some points, Lestrade was how the consulting detective showed that he was jealous. Oh, it made John laugh briefly before he seriously started to consider why Sherlock would be jealous. Surely not because of the positions the three of them held, because, when he stopped to actually ponder, John realized that Sherlock had almost always acted like that whenever someone showed any particular interest in John, even if it was just the cashier at the checkout lane or a waitress. But it didn't make sense to John. After all, he was a thirty-five year old invalid doctor home from Afghanistan. There wasn't much he had to offer and he often thought of himself as ordinary and average. Not the most undesirable person around town, but not the most outstanding either. John was just…normal. Average. So for Sherlock to be jealous and act in such a way puzzled him.
But he had found out why Sherlock had pouted, even if he didn't know why Sherlock felt that way. It only became more apparent when Sherlock sabotaged all of John's dates with either a text or actually showing up. At first, it got on John's bloody nerves, but after a while, it didn't and he found himself going on these dates just to see Sherlock show up, pouting ever so slightly and looking very much like a jealous boyfriend or lover. John stopped dating all together, but Sherlock's jealous side always came out when they were at a crime scene…or anywhere else, for that matter. And then, it dawned on him that maybe, just maybe, Sherlock may see John as something more than a friend. Actually, it was Lestrade who brought it up one day during a crime scene in which half of Sherlock's attention was on the body while the other half switched between John and Anderson, who had been eying John since they arrived. Although John told Lestrade that he highly doubted that, Lestrade made a few points that he couldn't deny. Such as how Sherlock wasn't as…well, mean to John as he was to everyone else and how he only ever touched John and no one else.
But what assured John that Sherlock was actually interested in him was a conversation they had at the flat one day closing up their latest case.
"Do you like Anderson?" John, who had been reading his paper as he sat in his chair, stopped reading and looked up at the consulting detective.
"Pardon?" Sherlock sighed and John swore that there was a hint of a pout just waiting to come out. It almost made him smile. He didn't though, because he knew that Sherlock might think that the smile indicated that John did indeed like Anderson, which he did not.
"Do you like Anderson? I don't see why you insist that I repeat myself when I know that you heard me the first time. Perhaps you just like listening to my voice. Clearly, that must be the case. Why else would you force me to repeat myself?" John folded his paper and looked at Sherlock, whose brilliant eyes were gazing at him. Although Sherlock appeared calm and collected, John could faintly see traces of self-doubt and even fear in those eyes. He decided that he didn't like seeing those emotions in those eyes. Not one bit.
"He's an alright chap, but he does get bloody annoying. I don't like the fact that he and Donovan take pleasure in picking on you and I don't like that he's been bothering me whenever Lestrade and I are trying to converse while you're busy." They stared at each other for a moment or so before a small smile worked its way on Sherlock's face. John was happy and relieved to see the fear and self-doubt leave Sherlock's eyes and he unfolded his paper.
"He is quite annoying. I'm glad that we share this opinion of him. I shall do my best to deter him from his courtship of you the next time we're at a crime scene. Also, you didn't respond to my statement about liking my voice, mostly because you were trying to reassure me that you're not interested in Anderson, which you did. However, I will ask: Do you like listening to my voice?" John looked up at Sherlock and noticed that the consulting detective had silently crossed the space between them and was now gaze down at John with such an intense look that it made John's breath hitch. Clearing his throat, John stared into Sherlock's hypnotic gaze as he answer, trying not to sound like an idiot.
"Yes, Sherlock, I like listening to your voice." The small smile that had been on Sherlock's face turned into a smirk and John almost started regretting his answer. Almost. But he knew deep down that he'd never regret any answer he'd give Sherlock. And Sherlock probably knew that as well.
"Good. Now that that's taken care of, I shall let Anderson know the next time we're at a crime scene that you're not interested in him and that you're mine and no one else's. Since you practically said as much to me, I'm not putting words in your mouth and he will have no other course of action but to cease his insistent and unwanted advancements. Now then, I must return to my experiment…"
"Sherlock, you are to put my phone down at once. I told you last night that you are not to use it in any of your experiments." John watched as Sherlock pouted before he handed John his phone.
"Very well. If you insist."
John watched as Sherlock fiddled around with…whatever he was doing. He couldn't help but smile as he thought back on what Sherlock had said. You're mine and no one else's. As he thought about those words, his smile widened and a soft laugh escaped him before he returned to his paper. Yes, John was Sherlock's and he wasn't going to change that for the world. But honestly, Sherlock Holmes did pout, regardless of what the consulting detective said.