Blue-Green

Sherlock is honest when he says every case is perfect. No matter how big, how small, they are all perfect. It's the work that matters. It's keeping his brain sharp and keeping himself occupied.

John agrees when an interesting case comes along after a month of quiet cases. Sherlock jumps for joy when Lestrade calls and tells him it's urgent.

Sherlock and John exchange excited glances in the way to the crime scene, and John loves it. Nothing much has happened between them since after Sherlock's mother's funeral, and John's hoping this will make Sherlock's head sharp and he can think straight.

They arrive at the scene on the edge of London. They're in an old, abandoned warehouse, and it's cold, but they hardly feel it. Sherlock rushes to Lestrade and asks for the details.

"Well, we've got a foot," Lestrade says.

"That's all?" John asks.

Lestrade nods. "That's all. It was cut straight and perfect, as if…well, as if lasered off."

"What? Like a Light Saber?" John asks.

Sherlock looks at him. "Ahh, John. Finally the useless things you put in my head pay off. I understood that reference."

John grins. "I told you."

Sherlock smiles at him.

"Now isn't the time, boys," Lestrade says, gaining their attention. "My team is around here looking for the rest of the body. But look," Lestrade points to the foot, the one Sherlock's already examining.

"Is that…" Sherlock begins. He sniffs the foot. John grimaces. "Chocolate?"

"I believe so," Lestrade says. "Looks like chocolate sauce they use in movies as fake blood."

"Like in the Thriller video?" John asks.

Sherlock ignores them. "Yes, chocolate. But why? From where?" He stands and looks around the building. "What was this warehouse for?"

"It was an old bakery."

"Of course," Sherlock says. He takes his phone out and Googles their current address. It shows the building was once an old bakery owned by a man named Kevin Dorothy. "Look for Kevin Dorothy, Lestrade."

Lestrade sends a man to call the Yard for information.

"How long has this foot been here, John?"

John examines it. "A few hours."

Suddenly, they hear shouting from somewhere else in the warehouse. From what they can hear, a hand was found. They wait for Lestrade's man to bring the hand to them, and once he does, Sherlock examines it.

"Chocolate, yes. Cut the exact same. It belongs to the same person."

"How do you know?" John asks.

"This foot has athletes foot. Under the fingernails, there's bits of skin fragments. This person was scratching their foot. Assuming, also, by the size of this hand and foot, this was a man. The fingerprints look rough, there are hardly fingerprints. This man must have worked with chemicals that made the fingerprints disappear. It happens sometimes. Let's see," Sherlock goes on, "Perhaps a scientist." Sherlock takes his phone out and types away. He searches for missing persons in the area and finds a man named Doctor Henry Monroe, a scientist reported missing from the members of his lab. "Here, this must be him. Of course we'll have to run tests. Now, let's see. Who would want him dead?"

Sherlock paces and thinks, and Lestrade and John sit back and watch. Finally, Sherlock jumps and shouts with sudden realization. "Of course!" he shouts.

"What, Sherlock?" Lestrade asks.

"This factory was owned by Kevin Dorothy. I just remembered reading that his factory was shut down because they found mercury in the chocolates. Henry Monroe was one of the many scientists in question as being his partner. Monroe must have let Dorothy take the blame. Therefore, Dorothy killed him."

"Brilliant," John mutters. "That was amazing."

"Not yet," Sherlock turns to Lestrade. "Question Dorothy. He's the killer."

"Great, Sherlock. Thank you!"

"Call me with something a bit more difficult next time," Sherlock says, walking out of the warehouse.

John follows close behind and smiles. "That was great, Sherlock. Really great. Might have been your quickest yet."

"Not my quickest, but it did give me something to think about. Very stimulating."

"Well done, though. Really."

The next morning, John wakes up happy and decides to make Sherlock breakfast. Sherlock wakes to the smell of bacon and eggs. He walks into the kitchen with his dressing gown wrapped lightly around him, his chest bare underneath.

"What's this?" Sherlock asks.

"Oh good, you're up!"

Sherlock half smiles and sits in a chair by the table. "Why are you making such a large breakfast? Usually you have toast and apricot jam on Sundays."

"Today is a special day."

Sherlock looks scared for a minute. "Did I forget your birthday again?"

John laughs. "No, no! Well, yes you did. But that was months ago." John walks over and serves Sherlock half the pan of scrambled eggs, two slices of bacon, and a slice of toast. "Today is just…special."

Sherlock eyes John as John sits next to him. "What makes it so special?" he asks, cutting into his eggs.

"I just…" John bites his egg, then stares at Sherlock. He gives Sherlock a lopsided grin. "You're brilliant, you know that?"

Sherlock looks shocked. He blinks at his eggs, then bites them. Once he's finished chewing, he nods. "I've been told once or twice."

"And the case last night. Perfect. Absolutely perfect."

"Was it?"

"Yes! You just…you knew! You always just know! You're so brilliant!"

"Thank you, John. But I hardly think—"

"You are, Sherlock," John says. "You're amazing and brilliant and I…" John takes a deep breath. "I'm ready. So, Sherlock, would you like to go on a date tonight?"

Sherlock looks confused. "A date?"

"Yes. You know? Two people who like each other go out and have a good time?"

"We do that all the time, John."

"Yes, but…" John sighs. "A date is just different than what we normally do, ok? A date is more special. What do you say?"

Sherlock thinks. "I've never been on a date before."

John smiles. "I'll make it worth your while."

After breakfast, Sherlock goes to the lab. Usually Molly isn't there on Sundays, but she wanted him to examine the other body parts found from the chocolate light sabers case (that's what John keeps calling it). Sherlock goes to the lab and sets to work quickly.

"So," Molly begins. "How've you been, Sherlock?"

"Fine."

"Good. That's good."

Sherlock stays silent and works. As he's staring at his microscope, Molly starts again.

"Got any plans for the evening?" she asks.

"Actually yes," Sherlock proudly looks up from his microscope. "I've got a date."

Molly looks shocked, maybe a little hurt. "A date? With who?"

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "John," he says, as if she should know.

"Oh!" Molly says. "What are you two going to do?"

"I don't know. Dinner, I suppose. But John says it's more special than any regular time we have dinner."

"Yes, dates are special. Especially with someone you love."

Sherlock sits up straight and quickly looks at Molly. "I don't love John."

"But…you…and he…"

"We don't love each other. We like each other, bur love is too much."

"What do you expect out of this date then, Sherlock? What will it mean tomorrow after you've gone on the date?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, will you be boyfriends? Will you sleep together? Will you decide not to be? Will you—"

"Why do I have to decide that now?"

Molly shrugs. "It's just something you do in wondering. Do you remain dating with the possibility of falling in love, or do you remain friends and nothing more?"

"John will always be my friend."

Molly picks up her files and heads for the door. "That doesn't mean you can't or have to love him, but dating a friend might get sticky."

Sherlock pouts into the microscope. Why do we have to be boyfriends? Why can't I just date John because I enjoy his company? Then, Sherlock's thoughts really begin to wander. I've never been on a date. What if I date wrong and he doesn't like me? What if I do the wrong thing? What if he tries to kiss me and I don't want him to? What if I try to kiss him and he doesn't want me to? What if he wants sex tonight? I don't want that. Not now, at least. Sherlock begins to panic, so he takes a deep breath. He shoves those thoughts out of his mind and continues working.

He gets home that evening and John's in the shower. John is humming so Sherlock knows he's in a good mood. Sherlock doesn't want to ruin it, but he can't stop thinking about the things he thought of in the lab.

When John gets out, Sherlock's already dressed for their date and in the living room. John smiles at him as he heads upstairs, and when John returns he's ready.

"Ready?" John asks, grabbing his coat.

"As ready as I can be," Sherlock replies.

They go to a restaurant and get a table quickly. They sit and John doesn't stop grinning at Sherlock.

"Why do you keep smiling like that?" Sherlock asks.

"I'm happy. I'm happy to be here with you."

"We go to dinner all the time."

"Yes, but this time it's different."

They order food and make normal conversation. Sherlock loses his nerves, but the moment there's a lull, he begins to panic again. I'm no good at this. I can't do this. He's going to change his mind. He won't want me after tonight. I shouldn't have said yes. I shouldn't have tried a month ago. I was vulnerable.

"Sherlock? What's the matter?" John asks.

Sherlock looks at him, swallows, stands, and leaves.

"Sherlock! Wait!" John follows him out of the restaurant and down the street. "Wait!"

"I can't do this, John. I shouldn't have come tonight."

"What are you talking about? What is wrong?"

Sherlock turns back at John. "I'm no good at this. I'll be rubbish to date. Find someone else, someone better. I can't give you what you want. I don't want to be your boyfriend and I don't want to have sex. I just…can't, John." Sherlock turns and walks down the street.

"There is nobody better, Sherlock. Stop!" John grabs his arm and makes Sherlock turn around.

"You need to stop thinking so much. You don't have to be my boyfriend yet, Sherlock. I just want our dinners to mean something. And sex? We won't until you're ready. If you're never ready, so be it! I'm not going to force you."

"It's a basic human need, John. One day you'll grow tired of me and you'll need to find someone else."

"I'll never grow tired of you, Sherlock. You're all I want, I promise. Now, can we please resume our date?"

"No, John," Sherlock says. "I can't. I'm no good for you. You don't want me, you're just...I don't know. After the case last night, you must be in amazement still. You don't—"

Suddenly, John's lips are on his. John's hands are on either of his cheeks and John is kissing him. Sherlock stands stunned for a moment, eyes open and hands at the side, but John swipes his tongue along Sherlock's bottom lip, so Sherlock closes his eyes and wraps his arms around John. He opens is mouth and meets John's tongue with his own.

They kiss for a minute, maybe three or four, until John breaks away panting.

"How's that for not wanting you?" John asks. "It's not just physically either, Sherlock. Of course you're beautiful and I want you, but I want to be near you and I want to know you better. I want to be the one who knows you most."

"You already know me the most, John."

"Then how will dating be different from the current arrangement?"

Sherlock sighs and looks down. "You're right."

"I know I am. I can be every once in a while," John pulls away from Sherlock and holds his hand out. "What do you say? Finish the date?"

Sherlock takes his hand and follows him down the street. They return to the restaurant and eat dinner while chatting and making great conversation.

When they get home, they kiss twice in the living room before retiring to their own beds with large smiles on their faces.

*Here's part two of Colors. Read chapter one and review!