Well, I've got writer's block with my other Sherlock/John fic so I'm adding to this one; which should make whoever's reading this happy. And by the way, reviews would make me happy *hint hint*
Enjoy
Kaseykc
A Pink Apron? – Part Two
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(Sherlock's POV)
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Oh I'm not even going to bother explaining something as mundanely obvious to someone who doesn't even have the function to see anything beyond 'oh... pink apron?' but I must admit to you, you simple people, that I am quite worried of what John's reaction will be to me wearing this... thing. I don't know for sure but I do believe I am nervous, such a strange thing; do you people feel this all the time or is it fleeting? No! Don't answer that! I don't want to fill my head with such pointless information!
What do I care about everyone else? I am a self-proclaimed high-functioning sociopath so it doesn't matter to me what other people feel. Except it matters to me what John feels because I feel about John... why is that? Why does he make me feel? I don't feel, I've taught myself not to feel but he makes me. He makes me and I don't think he even realises what with his simple, but admittedly quick, thoughts and his lopsided smile that makes me want to hug him and do other things that are inappropriate think let alone fantasise about! And his eyes... oh so very expressive but can they be cold and hard to understand when he's hurt or in pain or angry with me; which is quite often actually, the anger part that is. I don't intentionally hurt him you know? No you don't know; why would you? You're not me, you're normal.
I've been watching for him through the window inbetween checking the food; I'm going domestic! Heavens! He's late; he said he'd be back by now! Why isn't he back? Has something happened? No, that's a stupid, hasty and entirely emotional thought that is not rooted in any sort of certifiable theory. But that doesn't stop me from feeling and thinking it. Damn emotions... damn you John... I don't like feeling.
But I did once; well a long time ago, before I met John, before I grew up. Before life let itself destroy me. Damn you too life!
Anyway, letting my feelings run away which is completely idiotic of me, and I can say that because no-one's here to hear it and no-one's here to mock me so ha, I should be focusing on the food. The food, I didn't even know I had the capacity to cook let alone the patience to do such a mundane and typical thing; but Mrs Hudson was quite helpful with her direct orders, and I do mean direct, as well as the cook book and the ingredients she all but threw at me; honestly you'd swear she was trying to give them to me before I could change my mind. So impulsive, it really isn't becoming of people.
I alternate between the food, which is almost done, and the window but I don't see John; he's not here yet, why not? He should be! I should probably send him a text but then he might come running and if he does and it's only for dinner he might get angry; and I don't want him to get angry. Heavens no! John isn't as polite or as understanding when he's angry; quite the opposite in fact. Especially when you make a comment about exploding dogs and such; he's got a terrifyingly good aim with a 16th century-original book written in Latin. I learnt that the hard and painful way, of course I haven't mentioned anything to do with explosions and such since then; I do value my life and mobility you know?
Another five minutes before I'll have to dish this form of sustenance out, if he isn't here then I'll leave it to go cold and when he does get back I'll be even more of an insensitive git, as he's so quaintly put it before, than I've ever been and soon he'll be on his knees in front of me begging my forgiveness and I'll blackmail him into getting into bed with me.
Wait. No... I don't think he'd go that far with me. I'm the freak of nature remember? I'm not someone who he'll ever want to do anything like that with am I? No. He's already corrected almost everyone who's considered us to be a couple hasn't he? Of course he has. He's only my colleague, that's safe for him, safe for me too but it's not good for me. I want more with him. But he won't give it so I won't take it, even if I so desperately wish to. I was raised to be a gentleman; though I must admit I've never truly acted like one beyond not walking around nude in public. Though I suppose I could try that... I might get a few propositions perhaps...
Ah! The food! Heavens! This is your fault! Yes it is! Yours! Oh dear... it's slightly burnt. Of course, that being said how on earth would I know whether or not that's how it's meant to look? I've never cooked a thing in my life; well except for eyeballs, fingers and a tongue but they were for scientific purposes only.
Oh! Oven mitts would be advisable the next time I try and take a tray made of metal out of a heated oven. Must remember that so that I won't have to run my hands under the cold tap for five minutes before the burning reduces itself to a due throbbing; oh that's going to annoy me, I just know it. And what do I mean, next time? There wasn't even meant to be a first time! Why do I think they'll ever be a second? This is just an experiment... yes... mostly... sort of... well, it is now!
The front door's just opened, it must be John; damn I must have missed him when I was battling with the food. Damn you food; you've distracted me and you're already making my existence even more insufferable than it was beforehand. I can hear him loping up the stairs, but he's lagging a little, almost like he's tired or carrying something; I do so hope it's the latter, I don't want him to be tired at this early hour. Well, early to me; it's only six o'clock. I need to dish out this food quickly, very quickly. Oh dear he's about to open the door and these stupid blasted vegetables won't get off the bloody serving spoon; why on earth do people need to consume these things? They're so... annoying. He's walking in and he's stopped walking now, he's not talking; if I wasn't still battling with these vegetables I'm relatively certain I'd notice that he may have stopped breathing momentarily. What's he so surprised about?
Oh right... the apron. Yes well, I can understand that one at least. I'll smile at him and see what his reaction to that is too. It should be fun; fun for me that is.
"John!" I declare happily, smiling widely at him, "dinner is served!" I move over towards him, he's still staring at me like I'm an alien; not that an alien would look like me I have heard that scientists believe that any extraterrestrial life will look more akin to a bug and I am not a bug. I suppose I'll have to drag him over to the table since I don't think he has any inclination to move from the spot he's currently rooted himself to in shock. God heavens John! It's an apron! Get over it!
I steer him over to the dinner table, yes the real dinner table; Mrs Hudson told me in no uncertain terms that if I was to do dinner then I'd have to serve it at the dinner table... the wench. I wait for him to sit down before I push his chair in behind him, he seems surprised by that; I can't possibly see why, I do have manners and I have done a stint in a restaurant before. Granted I had been trying to catch a fraudster but still...
I dive into my own seat and that's when I realise I'm still wearing the bloody apron; oh well, it won't do any harm to me. To John however it seems to be a bigger thing to overcome than the dinner is; he's still ogling at it either that or he's checking me out. The latter I don't mind at all really; he need only ask and I will freely give him anything he asks for; except my violin. That's mine. Though I could be persuaded to share with him if you know what I mean...
"Sherlock?" he says, he sounds weary; no weary isn't the right word, he sounds more like a timid little child sounds when they're asking a drunken parent something and they're afraid of a negative reaction. Why is he so timid? What's he afraid of saying?
"Yes John!" I exclaim happily as I look at him intensely, maybe too intensely because he's fidgeting with his hand; a clear indicator that he's got something on his mind that's really bothering him and it's something to do with me. What doesn't have to do with me that bothers him I wonder? His nightmares obviously bother him, they bother me too because I can't comfort him because I don't want him to know I care; why am I so scared of letting him know that I truly care about him? Is it because of our enemies? I can't class them as only being mine alone anymore; they've seen John with me so he's a target too. Is it because I'm afraid of rejection from him? Maybe, it's not like I'm open about how I feel and the fact that I care so it's not like he's going to immediately accept my attempts at comforting him is he? Well if he does then he's either completely bonkers or he loves me... I'm hoping for the latter but I reason that it'd be the former of those two possibilities. Who could ever really love me? Be intrigued by? Yes. Be enamoured with? Yes. Be sexually curious about? Probably. Be in love with? No... I'm an insensitive sociopath remember?
"Um... not to sound ungrateful or anything but... what the hell is all of this?" John asks as he looks between his hand, which must be so very interesting to him, and me. Oh... I didn't think he'd ask... I didn't... think. I don't know what to say to this; I don't know how to react. I've never had to react to something like this before. Whenever I've tried this with anyone; admittedly not to this extent and not with these feelings along with, I've always known what to say because I've kept it purely as an experiment. A test of human responses. But this isn't a test to me now... this is real... and I don't have a bloody clue as to what to say to him.
"I-" I can't think of anything, well I can but if I say any of that out loud I don't know how he's going to react to the spontaneous declaration of love from a sociopath; though I can realistically say, not well. I need to think of something to say; anything! Anything but my feelings for him! Damnit! Think! Think! Be objective; don't feel just think, don't be impulsive be analytical. Think... I think I've got it, "I was curious as to see the reaction someone as oblivious as you would have to the sight of myself preparing dinner; however you were late so I had to serve it instead of simply prepare it," I accuse him, there's still a bit of feeling seeping through and it's making my earlier worry come to the fore; but I do believe it's tinged with anger at the fact that he was late. Is this what normal people feel? I don't think I like it all that much.
He flinched. I made him flinch. Oh sure, it was minute but it was there and I saw it, and I caused it. My God... I feel... awful. I think I'm disgusted with myself; why does he make me feel like this! Why! I've hurt him... or does he think he's hurt me? Well he has but I'm not going to tell him that am I? No. I'm far too proud.
I don't want to be near him now, not now that I've hurt him; I can't be around him, it's not safe for my feelings. I'll tell him otherwise. I need to get away from him; even if it's only across the room. Still, the sofa's better than sitting next to him where our thighs almost touch and I feel the heat emanating from him which is making my sexual-drive go hay-wire. I need to move. Now!
I stand and his eyes follow me; it's almost like he wants something to happen, something... no. I can't think like that, I can't feel like that! I don't want to ruin this partnership for sex! But... this isn't about sex, well not just about sex... it's about these other feelings that run far deeper into my shadowed and layered heart than any other feeling has ever managed to do for so many years.
I almost dive onto the sofa and I purposeful turn to face the back of it so that he can't see my face which I'm sure is starting to falter and crack and show how I feel now. I can't let him see... I... just can't. It's not safe... not safe...
I can't let him know just how much I want to dive on him right now and do so many things to him to make him shout my name to the high heavens.
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TBC...
Well... this is... angsty isn't it? I don't actually know where this came from... I honestly don't but I'm starting to worry about my psyche; so much for me being remotely defined as 'normal'.
Anyway, moving on from self-examination, tell me what you think and I might do an update... well I probably will at some point anyway but I'm meant to say all of this so you're inclined to review and demand an update; something to do with psychology I think ;)
Hope you enjoyed.
Kaseykc
BTW: I am going to be the female Sherlock Holmes so if anyone wants to be Moriarty then be my guest! :D
