YAYY IT'S CHAPTER 2 IN FULL! I realize that I didn't add much but I seriously just wanted to update. Hope you guys don't hate me to much for taking so long. Thanks to everyone for following and favoriting and such :3 I seriously love each and everyone of you. I'd also like to thank Bella (belladarling on here. Check her out ya'll) for putting up with my whining and for helping me with this. She actually wrote the kissing for me since I'm so bad at it! So yah, I love her. Anyway, HERE WE GOOO~.
"Come again?" John takes a step forward.
"I don't like repeating myself, John." Sherlock snaps, his hand runs through his curly black hair in frustration. The room goes silent, John stares at Sherlock, the crease between his eyebrows deepening. "You watch me sleep," Sherlock declared , "You watch me sleep because the sound of my breathing helps you sleep. Even if it's in that wretched arm chair, the fact that I'm alive and breathing a few feet away from you gives you peace. When you sleep, I sleep."
"Right," John shifts from one foot to another, "I suppose I couldn't keep that secret for long."
"John, I'm here. Clearly," Sherlock quickly stands up and strides over to John, his hands on either side of John's face, "Alive." John blinks in surprise, Sherlock's touch sends chills through his body and into the pit of his stomach.
"Alive." John breathes, his eyes on Sherlock's lips. His neck hurts from looking up at him,Damn him and his height. Damn him and his stubborn arse,damn him to hell for his stupidity.Damn him for ever waltzing into my damn life.His thoughts become an incoherent mess the longer he stares at the detective, "Damn you," he murmurs.
His mouth curls into an infuriating grin. "Yes," the taller man agrees. "Damn me. But damn you for being so secretive, and for refusing to pick up on subtle hints the first time I make them, and for being so unsure of yourself that you can't even do what you most want to."
"And what is that?" John is amazed he can form coherent words at this point. The low, rumbling chuckle that escapes Sherlock's throat is something John wishes he could hear almost constantly.
"Oh, John Watson," Sherlock laughs quietly. "You have so much to learn."
He drops his hands from John's face and turns away, making a stride towards the steps. Before John can voice the disapproval that was bubbling its way up his chest, Sherlock was back in front of him, nose just inches from his own.
"Tell me what you want from me, John. Pretend I can't tell just from the way you're standing right now, or the way your thumb is twitching, wrapped in your fist. Tell me." John faught with himself involuntarily for long moments, struggling to find the words.
"John, tell me before I lose interest in this game."
"Kiss me," John blurted out.
"What?" Sherlock's lips curved into a wide smile.
"I don't like repeating myself."
And so it was done, the younger man's lips slanting over John's.
A clash of teeth, bumping noses, teeth, lips, and fingers brushing back hair. There was nothing sexual about it. There was longing and adoration and trust and passion behind it, but no demands. John's hands fly to Sherlock's chest as he pulls away, he feels the rapid beat of the detective's heart.
"You are," the words come out as a soft whisper from John's lips, "impossible." Sherlock simply hums and wraps his arm around John, his lips skim over his neck, hair, nose, eyes. With demanding force he pushed John onto the couch and continued the rain of kisses. "Sherlock," John wriggles under the taller man's grasp.
"Shut up, John.," a low rumble escapes past Sherlock's lips as he leaned in to kiss the ex-army doctor. Their lips met again, more forceful and more intense, unbelievably, than the first one.
"I can't do this," John pushes his hands against Sherlock's chest, "I can't."
"Can't do what exactly? The kissing? My apologizes, I got a bit carried away." Sherlock removes himself from the couch and stands awkwardly away from John. He looks hurt but only for a second as he regains his stony composure.
"No, I can't," John sighed, "I can't do any of this, the kissing, the hugging."
"You can't love me." Sherlock nods.
John shakes his head and goes to Sherlock, "I don't want to love someone that I could easily lose. I don't want to love someone who'd slip from my grasp in mere seconds. I've handled too much loss in my life."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Sherlock steps away and walks to the window.
"Don't be daft, Sherlock! Pulling your seemingly lifeless body out of the pool that night killed me. I've had nightmares ever since and I just stopped sleeping. The way you carelessly put yourself in harms way to solve a case, to catch a fucking criminal. Is it really worth your life?"
"It's my job." Sherlock utters coldly.
"For god's sake, Sherlock! You're stupid and selfish.I'm Sherlock Holmes and no one can compete with my massive intellect and my stupidity! And the cocaine, Sherlock? There I am, pumping away at your chest once again because of your stupidity and I can't do it. I can't lose you and I can't love you." John's hands are clenched tight, his whole body is tensed.
"Are you quite finished?" Sherlock continues to gaze out the window.
"No," John strides over to Sherlock and kisses him full on the mouth, his hands reaching up to intertwine in the detective's curls. He pulls away, his hands fall back to his sides in fists again. "I'm need some air," and with that John grabbed his coat and walked down the stairs of 221B out into the cold London night.