A/N: Sorry for the delay! This is chapter 2 of my fic and I really hope you like!
John pulled out his mobile and began to make some phone calls, but no one had seen or heard from him. He felt he was going to go mad with worry. He soon left the hospital after looking around some more, but finding nothing. Sherlock Holmes was gone.
When John arrived back at 221B Baker Street it was almost midnight. He wanted to ask Mrs. Hudson if she had seen Sherlock, but he didn't want to wake her so he went up the stairs hoping that maybe Sherlock would be there. When he got to the sitting room and switched on a light his eyes began scanning the room for any sign of his flatmate, but there seemed to be no one there. He then dashed to Sherlock's room, but he was not there either. Oh, Sherlock where are you? he thought as he sat down on Sherlock's bed for a moment.
As John sat on his flatmate's bed he could feel his anxiety making him want to jump out of his skin. He felt so lost and alone. He allowed himself to lie back onto Sherlock's bed for a few moments to collect himself. As he stared blankly at the ceiling he could picture so many awful things happening to Sherlock that it made him want to scream out loud. Sherlock Holmes you bastard!
As John was lying on Sherlock's bed he tried to close his eyes for a bit wishing that his worried mind would stop racing for a moment. The more he tried to stop his thoughts the more they seemed to creep up on him. He knew he probably wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon so he got up and went into the kitchen to make some tea. When he got into the kitchen he saw the usual mess that Sherlock had made, but there was no Sherlock to go with it. John felt utterly depressed looking at all of Sherlock's strange little experiments that would usually annoy him and said softly to himself, "Oh, fucking hell just come home Sherlock"
John was putting the kettle on when suddenly he heard the sound of a familiar voice come from behind him. "I am home, John"
John felt his heart skip a beat when he turned around to see Sherlock standing a few feet away from him still dressed in his hospital gown lighting up a cigarette. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you?!" he yelled, clutching his chest, trying to catch his breath.
Sherlock, looking completely calm just took a long drag of his cigarette and said, "Shh, John you don't want to wake Mrs. Hudson" his voice was deep and erotic sounding, and John tried not quiver where he stood.
John could feel rage rising into his chest as he watched his flatmate standing there calmly smoking when he should be sleeping in the hospital. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, lowering his voice a bit.
Sherlock took another drag of his cigarette and said, "I live here, John"
"I know you bloody live here, Sherlock, but you are supposed to be resting in the hospital not standing here smoking!" John said, moving closer to the consulting detective. He wanted to punch him so badly that he had to take a deep breath and gather himself for a moment before he could say another word.
"It's boring there, John. Boring and tedious" he said, exhaling the smoke through his nose. He looked like hell standing there in his dirty hospital gown, pale and sickly, but John couldn't help but notice how handsome he looked for someone who has been in a coma for the past 3 days. He quickly had to stop from thinking anything that would distract him from being angry because he figured that Sherlock needed to know that what he has been doing is wrong, but deep down he just wanted to wrap his arms around him and rejoice that he was alive, safe and alive.
"Why are you smoking anyway, I thought you quit" John asked.
"I had quit, yes, John, but as you can see I have changed my mind about that"
"I don't get you lately, Sherlock. I mean, I never really have, but now you just seem like you've thrown any sort of reservations out the window" John crossed his arms over his chest as he said this, trying not to notice how attractive Sherlock looked standing there smoking like a naughty boy. Stop it, John. Don't think of such things right now, you're supposed to be angry.
John ran his fingers through his hair sighing in frustration and said, "Well, since you are here you really should try to take a shower or something, you look like death"
Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him shooting him a smouldering look, his blue-grey eyes practically screaming at him to come closer. "Won't you join me?" Sherlock said to John, his voice low and seductive.
John was taken aback for a moment and he could feel his blood rushing to his cheeks, his mouth wide open in shock. "No, no I will not. Have you gone mad, Sherlock?" he said at last when he finally found his voice again.
Sherlock just continued to smoke his cigarette, his eyes still glaring lustfully at his flustered flatmate. John could see him smiling wickedly through the smoke that exited from between his slightly parted lips. John could feel Sherlock's inquisitive eyes scanning his face, and he just continued the look to the side hoping his true feelings would not be discovered.
Finally Sherlock finished his cigarette, and carelessly threw it to the side knowing very well that this would aggravate his flatmate.
"What the hell, Sherlock?" John said angrily, as he went to retrieve the cigarette butt so that he could dispose of it properly. He was almost relieved that Sherlock did that so that he would stop looking at him like that, making him feel naked and exposed, it was just too much for him.
When John finally found the cigarette butt he quickly took it to the nearest window in the sitting room and threw it out. When he turned around to scold Sherlock for what he had done, he almost fell backwards at the sight that was before him. Sherlock was standing in front of the kitchen completely naked.
John's eyes were wide in disbelief at what he was seeing. He wanted to look away, but his eyes just stared at his nude flatmate, and his heart was about to pop out of his chest. He could feel his face turning bright red, but still did not have any luck in looking away. Instead he couldn't help but notice how beautiful his naked form was, and how amazing the shape of his bare shoulders and arms looked. His eyes were outlining every curve on his body. He had seen Sherlock almost naked before, but this was different, this was entirely new to him, which made him feel very uncomfortable, but at the same time he also felt like he was seeing something that he had always secretly longed to see. He felt intoxicated by what he was seeing.
Sherlock just continued to stand there before his flustered flatmate, his piercing eyes looking straight at John's. He crossed his pale, beautifully sculpted arms over his chest and slowly allowed a devious smile to form on his face, a smile that seemed to make John almost frightened. Just as John's nervous lips parted in a feeble attempt to say something, he was distracted by the high, whistling sound of the kettle on the stove. He was almost relieved, but at the same time felt like laughing at how absolutely ridiculous this moment was.
Sherlock still just looked at John, ignoring the whirring sound coming from behind him. "Are you going to get that?" he asked, his voice so calm and collected, as he reached up and lazily scratched his tattered, dark curls.
John's eyes darted from Sherlock to the kitchen repeatedly before he said anything. "Y-you're" he started to say, but had to stop and clear his throat nervously before continuing. "You're right there, you do it" his voice sounded annoyed and nervous at the same time, and he almost felt like he wanted to just turn and jump out the window to escape from this uncomfortable moment, but instead he just scowled at Sherlock.
"Very well then" Sherlock said politely, then spun around on his bare heals and made his way over to the source of the noise in the kitchen.
John's head tilted a bit as he stared lustfully at his flatmate's tight buttocks. He actually felt as if time slowed down for a moment. He felt like a virgin again, which he was when it came to men, but he still was trying to fight any feelings of arousal. It was very hard for him to keep his lower jaw from dropping as his eyes were graced with such a beautiful sight. Oh, God forgive me, but I just cannot look away!
While John was staring shamelessly at his flatmate, Sherlock was gracefully pouring himself a cup of steaming hot tea. "Would you like some tea, John? Or would you prefer something cold to cool yourself off?" As Sherlock spoke, he turned his head a bit so that one of his eyes could shoot a quick "I can-read-your-mind" look at his embarrassed flatmate.
John immediately unglued his eyes from Sherlock's arse, and nervously placed his hand on the back of his head and stared at the floor for a while, cleared his throat and said, " Just tea, please" His voice cracked a bit as he spoke, making him sound like a prepubescent boy. He felt like cowering in a corner hoping Sherlock would just leave him be, but on the same note he wanted him to come closer to him and see where their bodies might take them.
"Are you going to stand, cowering over there all night?" Sherlock said, turning around holding two cups of tea in his hands as he walked into the sitting room. He reached his left arm out, cup in hand and said, "Here you go, John"
John stared at Sherlock from across the room for a few awkward moments until he finally took a deep breath, and cautiously walked towards his naked flatmate. He carefully took the cup from Sherlock's hand and quietly sipped his tea, not saying a word.
"Careful, it's hot" Sherlock said, a sly smile stretching across his face.
"I wasn't cowering, by the way, Sherlock"
"What exactly were you doing then, John?"
"I-I was…You're naked!" John said, his eyes fixed on Sherlock's face so that they wouldn't venture elsewhere.
Sherlock took a few tiny sips of his tea, and said, "Ah, brilliant observation, John"
For a few long minutes they silently sipped their tea. John would occasionally glance at Sherlock's face waiting to for him to say something, but all he did was throw him a few uncomfortable glances in between sips. They both stopped drinking for a little while, and just looked at each other, still in silence. Then, finally, out of nowhere, John burst out in a fit of giddy laughter.
Sherlock looked at his giggling flatmate, his eyes widening in confusion. "What?" Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow, and narrowing his eyes at John, who was still laughing hysterically.
"John" Sherlock said, but still John continued his laughing fit.
"I'm s-sorry, I'm sorry" John finally said, trying not to laugh anymore, but as soon as he looked at his flatmate's confused face he burst out laughing yet again.
For whatever reason, Sherlock now joined his ridiculous flatmate in his mad fit of laughter. He did not know what he was laughing at or why, but it felt invigorating to him. He rarely would have a good laugh, and the more recent times he can recall laughing in such a way were times he had been in the company of John.
John was on the verge of tears, he was laughing so much, and Sherlock seemed almost ready to pass out from all the excess giggling.
While in the middle of laughing, John pointed a finger at Sherlock and said to him, "Y-you sound like an evil villain when you laugh!" He was now laughing even harder, trying really hard not to spill his tea.
"Well, you sound like a bloody school boy", Sherlock said to John, in between laughing.
John and Sherlock finally allowed their foolish laughter to taper off, mostly so they could catch their breath. "Sorry, Sherlock, but you're just too funny" John said, trying to get his composure back.
"How am I funny?" Sherlock asked, suddenly becoming serious again.
"Well, you're standing here naked, sipping tea like its bloody normal"
"I was simply doing what you have desired for me to do since we met, John", Sherlock said, his voice becoming low, and sultry. He then reached his pale, slender fingers to John's confused face.
"What are…what are you doing, Sherlock?" John said, as he feebly tried to pry Sherlock's hand from his cheek, but his hand would not budge. John closed his eyes for a little while in a moment of bliss as Sherlock's hand touched his cheek.
When John opened his eyes he saw that Sherlock was moving in to kiss him, and he immediately pulled away. "Sherlock, no, I can't…please" John said, his voice weak.
"Why do you resist, John?" Sherlock asked, his hand touching John's cheek again.
John closed his eyes again as he felt the soft touch of Sherlock's hand on his face, but soon enough he stopped him yet again. "Sherlock, I told you to stop" He said, trying to keep Sherlock's hand down by his side, but in an attempt to stop his eager flatmate from touching his face, he found that his hand somehow found Sherlock's penis.
Sherlock gazed at John's shocked face, and smiled at him. "Found what you were looking for, John?" He said, his smile growing.
John immediately removed his hand from the consulting detective's manhood, glared at him crossly, and said, "You really don't know how to do this do you, Sherlock?" As John said this he was standing a bit on his toes to bring him more at level with Sherlock's eyes. After giving him the most spiteful stare he could manage, he set his mug down on the table, and stormed off to his room without another word.
"Know how to do what, John?" Sherlock pathetically shouted after him, but the only response he got was the sound of John's door slamming.
Sherlock stood there in the sitting room, and felt almost angry at the fact that he was so gifted at solving the hardest of cases, but still could not seem to figure out how to court his flatmate. He hated not knowing things, or being wrong. He wanted to run to John's room and demand an answer, but instead he put his tea down, and began frantically looking for his mobile.
"Where the hell did it go?" He grumbled to himself. He tried to remember when it was that he had it last, but his mind was foggy still from his recent drug ordeal. He was just about to pull his hair out when he heard his phone go off, but he did not know where it was coming from.
"The stairs" he said, as he darted for the stairs. When he got down the stairs he saw that his coat was hanging on the rail, and dug into the right pocket where he found it at last. He slid his thumb across the bottom of the screen to unlock it, and saw there was one message, and it was from John:
Get some rest, please, Sherlock. We will talk in the morning.
The very second that Sherlock finished reading the text, he began speedily texting back.
John was getting into his pyjamas when he heard his mobile go off. He walked over to his night stand where his phone was, picked it up, and saw he had a text from his flatmate. He sighed, rolled his eyes, and read the text.
Though I am not sure what I did wrong, you can be assured that it will not remain a mystery from me forever.
SH
John laughed a little to himself as he read the text, then he began to text a response.
Go. To. Bed.
After John wrote his text, he got into his bed and tried to sleep, but he found it hard to sleep while having a million thoughts stampeding through his head, but truthfully, what he thought of the most, out of all the events that took place since Sherlock woke up from his coma, was Sherlock's bare, firm buttocks. "What a sight", he groaned softly to himself. He then shut off the light, and tried to sleep.
Sherlock was in his room, with his silky blue dressing gown on, and a cigarette hanging from his lips, staring out the window. When he lit the cigarette he inhaled it deeply, and blew the smoke out with a long sigh of relief. He knew that he should be sleeping, especially after all he had been though, but he just had way too much on his mind, so instead he chose to stare blankly out the window in an attempt to gather his scattered thoughts. He groaned, lowering his head for a moment, as he began to faintly hear the dreadful song that he heard in his head back in the hospital begin to creep up on him again. He flicked the cigarette out the window, closed the window, and when he got to his bed he flung himself onto it, and curled up on his side. As much as he thought he was too anxious to sleep, it seemed not too daunting a task after all. Within only a few minutes he was sleeping soundly.
A/N: I really hope you enjoyed! I know it was shorter than the last, but there is much more to come! 3