Sunlight streamed into the room. I woke with a start (no nightmares... hmm...) and immediately looked over at the bed. Sherlock was still sleeping peacefully, a look of tranquility on his face. I felt my face lift into a small smile. I walked into the kitchen and began to prepare breakfast; for him, black coffee with two sugars and a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and two pancakes, and a cup of tea for me. My stomach was jumpy for some reason, I didn't feel like eating. I put it all on a tray and prepared to take it in my room when I heard a gruff "Morning," coming from the doorway. I jumped and my stomach fluttered as the velvety, raw voice exclaimed "You know I'm not going to eat that!" rather petulantly. "You will and you won't complain. If you haven't slept in God knows how long, I'm positive you haven't eaten either. Even if you have, you need some meat on your bones anyway." I stuck my tongue out at him, set the tray down on the table, and put my hand on his arm as I moved past him to get his coffee. He looked at me oddly for a second, then hesitantly sat down. When I handed him his coffee, our hands brushed, and I left mine touching his a little longer than I should have. I cursed myself. Was I flirting? With SHERLOCK? I wasn't gay, I knew that, but why did it feel like I was flirting? The things I was doing were all unconscious, I only realized I was doing it after the fact. Why did my heart beat faster when I heard his voice? That kind of stuff was easily noticed by him, which was probably why he gave me that look. Oh God, did I have FEELINGS for him? He cleared his throat.
"These are good," he pointed out, indicating the eggs. I was surprised he actually listened to me... I sat down next to him at the table. "That's good. I can make more if you want any."
"No thanks, I don't wish to trouble you." He was being strangely formal, not insulting, not deducing, not doing much of anything except switching between staring intently at his food and staring intently at me. "It's no trouble... Okay, why in the hell are you staring at me like that! What have I done this time? Do I have something on my face?"
"Yes... you have a rat on your face," he said dryly, pointing to the mustache I was currently sporting. That sarcastic little shit... seems like he was back to normal.
"No really. What did I do?"
"... You're still upset. I'm here, so that's a load lifted off your shoulders, so what's bothering you? I know you quit your job after my 'death', so it's not a work problem... did one of your girlfriends break up with you?" I laughed bitterly. There hadn't been a girl since the fall. Yep, the Sherlock I knew was definitely back; he was being an insufferable know-it-all.
"No, no girlfriends since you disappeared on me. I'm not upset about anything, don't worry about it." "Alright, whatever you say." He silently finished his food and stood up to put away his dishes. I stood up at the same time and he came close to me. "John. I know something is wrong. I will find it out eventually, and I promise to help you as best as I can." I felt my face redden as his eyes, like the ocean after a storm, stared into mine. He was oh so close... I felt an overwhelming urge to lean in and kiss his lush, full lips. I cleared my throat, startled at the thoughts in my head. "Well good luck with that, Sherlock. I'm going to run to the store, you do... whatever it is you do when I'm gone." "All right. Pick me up some peroxide, will you? I need to look into something." He leaned in closer to me, placed his lips on my temple, and took my hand. "Be safe, okay?" he muttered with his eyes closed. I jumped back, feeling my heart skip a beat.
"Yeah okay. I'll pick up what you need." I practically ran out of the flat. Why was he acting so weird, being all emotional and touchy? Sherlock was never like that... I touched the place where his lips had been, feeling my face lift into that same small smile I had that morning. "Bugger. I'M NOT GAY!" I yelled at the empty street. I heard a chuckle coming from an open window. "You keep telling yourself that, mate."
