Here it is, part 2 of "Studies in Ink". This time, we discover yet another tattoo, I hope you like it :) I decided to continue this and make it more than a two-shot, because I have so many amazing ideas. I hope you like it!
Studies in Ink - 2
Although the days after his hospital release were quite odd, John enjoyed them. Sherlock still believed that it was his fault that the army doctor got injured, so he tried to do his best to be pleasant and "at your service" as he called it, by making him tea and fetching things for him, so that he wouldn't move around too much.
The first two days after his release from the hospital were quite nostalgic, because John limped around the flat in his pyjama pants and t-shirt with his orders to stay inside and rest his leg. Sherlock hated to see him this way. He knew that the limp was only going to be there for a few days, but it reminded him too much of the time when he had met John – a broken John.
But there was also something else. Every time he saw John move around, he was reminded of the ink on Johns leg, that was permanently stitched into his skin for the rest of his life. The tattoo had been a big surprise – the bigger surprise though had been his heartbeat, or the lack of one, upon seeing it. His heart had jumped, only to beat faster and harder a few seconds later in confusion and anxiety. What did it mean? He was a genius, sure he could figure it out?
Even days later, after Johns explanation, Sherlock couldn't seem to figure out why he couldn't stop thinking about his flatmates tattoo. He was intrigued, curious, wanted to know more. So one day, he did what he always did in situations like this – he started an experiment.
The painkillers made him sleepy, so it was no wonder that John almost didn't notice that he was being harassed in his sleep once again by his mad flatmate Sherlock. Almost. Painkillers or not, he was still a soldier.
"Sh'lock?", he mumbled and tried to move, yawning. He had stopped being mad at Sherlock for disturbing his sleep long ago. His constant experiments involving him kept being annoying, but mostly harmless.
He glanced at his alarm clock and sighed. It was not even four in the morning, still it was dark outside. And yet, Sherlock thought it would be appropriate to sit on top of Johns bed and grabbing the hands of the sleeping army doctor to coat them in... was it ink?
"What are you doing?", he asked, trying to sit up.
"Nothing of importance to you, John. Go back to sleep.", came the answer in a deep baritone experiment-mode voice. Slowly, Sherlock moved Johns left hand onto a piece of paper and carefully pressed the fingertips of the army doctor onto the white surface. John rolled his eyes and sighed, pinching his nose with his still clean right hand.
"Sherlock, did it ever occur to you that it might be impossible for me to sleep while you sit in my bed and invade my personal space again?", he groaned, shutting his eyes as hard as he could. Maybe Sherlock would just go and leave him in peace for the rest of the night.
Instead of standing up though, Sherlock ignored him and climbed over Johns body to grasp his right hand as well, ignoring another annoyed moan from John, who shifted to at least try and be a little more comfortable while the consulting detective applied the ink to his hand.
"Is the test subject allowed to ask a question at least?"
Sherlock nodded, concentrating on applying Johns fingers to the white paper with utmost care. "You are of course allowed to speak, John. The question is whether I deem your inquiry worthy of an answer."
The army doctor thought he was way too tired to be infuriated and just took a deep breath before posing his question, as calmly as he could. "Why are you taking my fingerprints?"
Dropping Johns hand without care, Sherlock rolled off John's mattress with grace, folded the paper carefully and opened the door to leave the room.
"For an experiment, of course."
The next day, John had washed the evidence of Sherlock's late night experiment off his hands and didn't think about it for weeks. The consulting detective didn't normally share the outcomes of his experiments with John. The ones that ended in explosions were hard to ignore anyway, so John was glad that Sherlock had seemingly reached silent and satisfying results, because he didn't try to take his fingerprints again.
Three months after Sherlock's nightly visit, Johns wound was long healed and the experiment on his fingers was long forgotten. It was purely on accident that the army doctor saw the result of his flatmates endeavour.
"Argh... BOLLOCKS!"
It was very rare for Sherlock to use words like that, but it wasn't really the cursing that made John run from the kitchen to the living room, it was the slight pain that he had heard in his flatmates voice and his urge as a doctor to help him.
"Sherlock?", he asked, but it was obvious, even for him, what had happened. The fact that the great consulting detective Sherlock Holmes had just been reduced to swearing by a dull, domestic accident was almost funny. He had knocked over his teacup, pouring the still steaming hot liquid all over his favourite purple shirt.
Johns concern was stronger than his urge to laugh though, so he took the few steps to his flatmate and sighed. But he couldn't hide the amused smile on his face as he reached for Sherlock's buttons.
"I told you, you have to be more careful. Let me take a look.", he said.
Sherlock gulped. John was in doctor mode, but the younger man knew that this would not last for long. He almost didn't want him to see it, but he knew that now it was too late to pull away. And the steaming liquid on his shirt still hurt, so it was probably better to look at the damage.
Quite unceremoniously, John threw the wet shirt behind his back and looked at the reddened skin of Sherlock's bare chest to examine if the burns were bad. It didn't take long to see that with a few drops of cream the burn would heal in no time.
John reached for the dressing gown he knew was placed on the couch behind Sherlock to give it to his patient, but his eyes caught a tiny black spot over the left side on the detectives chest and it made him freeze.
Quite surprised, but unusually calm, John brushed his right hand over Sherlock's heart and came even closer to examine the black lines of ink that graced the pale chest before him. John opened his mouth to speak, but found he was at a loss of words. He closed and opened it again, but the things he wanted to say wouldn't go past his lips.
"Sherlock...", was the only word that escaped him after what seemed hours, which he had spent to examine the tiny tattoo. It was, without a doubt, one of John Watson's fingerprints, that was forever stitched into the consulting detective's skin.
"I-I'm sorry John. Please don't be mad."
Confused at the anxiety and the nervousness in Sherlock's voice, John finally lifted his head to watch his face. Why was he apologizing?
"I just couldn't stop thinking about your tattoo, you know? It was such a wonderful and nice thing of you to do and I couldn't help but wonder how it would feel to have something like that for myself. I was being selfish again."
John wanted to say something, but it seemed that Sherlock had the words long prepared, and they were flowing out of his mouth like a waterfall.
"Then I thought about the significance and the thought you put into your tattoo. You had it made because I cured your psychosomatic limp, so I thought about all the countless things you do for me. You make sure that I eat, drink and sleep enough, you try to keep me from being bored and you heal my injuries, not to mention you save my life every once in a while. But the most important thing was-"
Sherlock made a pause, suddenly at a loss of words, but John didn't interrupt him. He knew if he said something now, he would never know why this man in front of him wanted to tattoo his fingerprint on his chest.
"You, John Watson, are the living proof of my heart not only being an organ that pumps blood through my veins. You are the first and most important of my very few friends and you are the first to make an imprint on my heart. And I know it sounds utterly cheesy, so don't you dare laugh or i'll have it removed."
Silence filled the living room of 221B Baker Street and Sherlock was sure that there had only been a few occasions in his life where he had been this nervous. He could feel his heart racing in anticipation, almost making the fingerprint on his chest move in synch with it's beating.
Finally, John reacted, but not in the way Sherlock had thought he would. He expected John to be angry for just using one of his fingerprints like that. He expected him to be annoyed for "stealing" his brilliant and wonderful idea. He feared that John might be disgusted by this. Being a pessimist, Sherlock would have never deduced what the doctor did next. Leaning forward, John pressed a feather-light kiss over Sherlock's tattoo, barely a touch of lips, only a grace, before removing his face, reaching behind the consulting detective and giving him his robe so he could cover himself.
"You're right Sherlock, I am mad at you.", John sighed, not being able to look his flatmate in the eyes. "I'm mad because you hid this from me, but I hid my tattoo from you too, so I am in no position to judge you. Although if you ever think of removing my fingerprint from your skin, I will punch you. And now sit down, I will get some cream for your burn."
While John vanished from the room, much faster than need be, due to being hugely embarrassed by his actions, Sherlock still stood in the living room, clutching his robe in his hands and desperately trying to ignore the chills that Johns lips had sent up and down his spine, or forget the look of happiness on Johns face that the little drops of black ink had brought to it.
Yes, I know, Sherlocks reaction at the end is a little out of character (as it was in the first chapter) but I just can't help but write him less adorable. How do you like the fingerprint tattoo? I have to change the genre to friendship/romance now, because I have to admit, I'm a sucker for Johnlock romance, altough i've never written something like this before.
Next up will be the tattoo of Sergeant Donovan, so stay tuned :)