He didn't sleep, he laid on top of the made bed with no plans to sleep. He just let his mind go blank, soak in the room, the smell of Sherlock. He heard the footfall, breaking into his empty head. They were taking care to be quiet, missing every lose board, and odd corner. It was obviously Sherlock, no one, not even himself could avoid all of the odd little things Sherlock left about in the dark.
He came in, his steps faltering when he saw John there in just his white tee, and his sleep trousers. Sherlock peeled out of his clothes, and put on something more suitable for sleeping in. John never once glanced his way, but he didn't look off either.
"Have you slept?" Sherlock's voice brought out a small breath of relief.
"Nor have I." He slid into bed, and John reached out, pulling him into his chest. Sherlock was perfectly happy to keep his head there, taking in the sent of his soldier, his doctor, his only friend, and perhaps something else he couldn't put his finger on. A loose thread that needed further scrutiny.
"Rosie missed you." John finally spoke once Sherlock had his lanky limbs wrapped around him.
"I missed her as well, she's a gift in the kitchen, as do you." Sherlock's words were muffled by John's chest.
"It's not another dead thing is it?" Sherlock laughed, shaking in John's arms, and John joined him.
"No, I assure you it was never alive." John nodded once, and they drifted off, from them on Rosie had her own room. People noticed, no one said a thing.
Sherlock was far from the only person who noticed John's positive qualities however. Rosie proudly showed Sherlock her science project for the fifth time, a full scale model of the human skeletal system,all acute. It was light years ahead of her class, and she had skipped a grade. All the while John talked to her teacher about another skip year. Two this time in fact. John didn't like it. He wanted Rosie to get to socialize with children in her age group. He knew what happened when social skills were ignored.
"Perhaps we could talk about it over tea, or dinner? She has the intellectual capacity of a college student, and she's only in the second grade." John noticed her smile, and the way she touched his arm. It had been ages since he'd had sex, he could use some release.
"I could do with an evening out, dinner might be nice, though you'll never convince me to send her to college now. I don't even like her skipping primary school." John reciprocated the small touch with a brush of his hand down her arm.
"He's right, if I can't convince certainly won't have any luck. Our Rosie is far to clever for a public school anyhow. We've been considering a school for advanced children rather than forcing her to intermingle with teenagers." Sherlock put his arm around John's shoulders, putting his leg behind John's to leave him standing with his buttocks against Sherlock's hips. A very possessive posture.
"If you'd excuse us." John hooked his arm around Sherlock's waist, all but lifting him with the force of his directions. Sherlock looked down at John curiosity perking his interest.
"What are you doing Sherlock?" John stepped away from him.
"Well I was talking to that poor excuse for an educater before you manhandled me over here, now I am obviously waiting for you to inform me what I hAve done wrong this time." Sherlock seemed genuinely unaware of his possessive behavior.
"Sherlock... I'm , I know we... we are what ever it is we are, but I do still have certain things I would like to do with others.". John watched the confusion, and slight tinge of hurt cross Sherlock's features.
"What could you possibly want with her that you can't get from our relationship?" Sherlock crossed his arms.
"A shag for one thing, maybe even a night where I get to be the impressive one." John leaned back against the wall, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"You are the impressive one, you've always been the impressive one. You made me a good man John, and you are the only thing that keeps me right. As for the other thing all you had to do was ask. I'm not adverse to such activities, though I admit I can choose to ignore such desires if I wish." Sherlock shrugged, John shook his head.
"I'm not gay Sherlock." John said, Sherlock frowned.
"I don't see how that's relevant. I may not have the ideal physical form, but we are compatible in every other way, which is much more meaningful. I assure you, I don't require you to do anything for me in that area. I am perfectly content as we are, but if you require release I am happy to provide it." John stared at him for a long time without moving, so long that Sherlock began to fidget under his gaze.
"Do you find me attractive?" John took a step away from the wall and into Sherlock's space.
"I said nothing of the sort." Sherlock looked over at the window at the snowy evening.
"You didn't deny it either." John enjoyed watching him look uncomfortable.
"Fine, yes John I find you attractive despite, or perhaps even because of your short comings. Your not overly tall, which means I get to lean my head on you, and you aren't overly fit, you keep in the kind of shape that is healthy, but don't bridge into vanity, you have a strong frame which you insist on softening with all your knitwear, and when you look at me you never see a monster. Your eyes are always kind." Sherlock backed away from him while he spoke, but John growled into his space until his back thumped against the opposite wall.
"Is that right? Well let's give it a go than, see how it sits." John's voice was low, and husky. A well placed compliment from Sherlock had always left him with an uncomfortable warmth. 't gay, but Sherlock wasn't a man, not in the sense that mattered. He hadn't been for years, he was so much more now.
John pressed his lips against Sherlock's for a moment he didn't respond, and John thought he had misread the situation. It was always possible with Sherlock, but then a tentative hand found John's back, and his lips began to move.
Sherlock had a practiced and perfect form when it came to kissing, yet all of it dribbled out his ears when John's lips had touched his. He had the unique ability to leave him struck dumb, with such little effort. Sherlock fisted his hand in John's shirt pulling him flush against him. John responded, rutting up against him. John was so hard up even the slightest touch left him falling apart.
He should have known better, Sherlock wasn't like anyone else, add that to how desperate John was for physical intimacy and of course kissing him would feel good. The problem was now he couldn't unknown it. He would forever remember the hallway where the flirting of an adequate girl, and a pretty boy, added to a lack of wanking, dating, or even flirting for so many all culminated to him cumming in his trousers while he was pressed against Sherlock.
He pulled away, Sherlock was shaking. He looked him up and down.
"I have to take a piss." John said, rushing off to clean himself up. Sherlock slid down the wall to sit on the cold tile floor. John had kissed him. He hadn't expected that. He wished he could have collected more data, but his head was still spinning. Had John liked it? Would it be their only kiss? Could Sherlock handle it if it was?
"Daddy, where did Dad go?" Rosie came around the corner looking concerned. Sherlock picked her up, looking back down the hall John had retreated to.
"He's popped off to the John, let's go collect your things, and we'll stop off for chips on the way home." She did the same little happy dance in his arms that Sherlock did when case.
John tossed the rag, his under things were done for, they'd be stained for sure. He sat down on one of the toilets, covering his face with both hands. Why had he done that? Sure the teacher had gotten him a bit excited with her flirting, it had been the first time he'd let himself appreciate a woman flirting with him since... He wasn't some animal though. He could control himself, but then Sherlock had said all those nice things, and John had just wanted to see if he was even capable of feeling sexually attracted to a man.
He should have tested the theory elsewhere, any other man and it wouldn't have worked. Sherlock... well he was Sherlock, and the normal rules never applied. He didn't want to go back out there and face Sherlock. What could he even say? He wasn't gay!
Eventually he had to leave the cramped stall, Rosie ran over, giving him the distraction he needed, and Sherlock didn't mention it. In fact they got home after stopping for chips, and went to bed without ever mentioning it.