AN: Hello again! I got so many views for my very first story, and for that, I am very grateful. As a thank you gift, I made this chapter longer!
My thanks goes to my new followers and to Serenityofthematrix, RainyDays-and-DayDreams, and MischievousWolf66 for reviewing the first chapter.
This chapter contains some fluff. Also, in this chapter, Mycroft comes in! Let's see what he has to say, huh? XD
To all the Sherlockians out there, please review and leave your comments about the story. :3
By the way, could someone explain to me what a Beta-Reader is? I saw it somewhere and one of my friends suggested it. Thanks!
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any of its characters.
Happy reading!~
John woke up hearing a loud crash of glass, silverware and a loud swear from downstairs. Normal people would have been filled with dreadful terror, paralyzed on their bed waiting till their hearts stopped hammering in their chests to go and explore what had happened, but Sherlock and John are not your average people.
John let out a huff of annoyance, as he rose out of the comfort of his bed, and went downstairs to see what Sherlock has done to start off this day.
When John entered the living room, he saw Sherlock on the floor picking up pieces of broken glass without any form of protection on his hands. What really caught John's attention was the newly formed wound that has formed on his right forearm. Sherlock's blood was oozing out slowly but heavily onto the kitchen floor.
Mrs. Hudson is not going to be happy.
"Sherlock, what the bloody hell are you doing? You have no protection whatsoever to be handling broken silverware! Are you even thinking about your actions? Sherlock at least get up so I can patch up that bloody nasty cut."
John rushed to Sherlock's side, and grabbed Sherlock by his un-injured arm, and led him to the restroom gently.
When they arrived, John immediately started to wash off the blood and then left to retrieve his First-Aid kit. John came back with Ibuprofen and a glass of water. Sherlock immediately consumed them, and John set out to work.
As John was stitching Sherlock's wound, he noticed Sherlock was starting to drift to sleep.
"Sherlock stay with me, alright? We can't have you falling asleep!" John exclaimed when he saw he got no response from his intellectual friend.
John finished rapping up Sherlock's forearm, and stared at Sherlock with a look of pure uncertainty.
'How the hell am I going to get him out of here?' John thought with a frown on his face.
As John was thinking, Sherlock leaned unconsciously on John's shoulder.
John pressed pause on his thoughts as he slowly turned and his eyes landed on John's flat mate's sleeping form on his shoulder. John's face was being tickled by Sherlock's curly jet black hair. It took all of John's being to not embrace his friend and lean on his head or inhale Sherlock's luxurious scent.
'How can I even think about doing that to my asexual flat mate? I must be going mad!' John jokingly thought to himself with a small chuckle. John was hesitant on moving from his position, but eventually decided against it. Sherlock never gets sleep and there could be a risk of waking him if John makes an attempt to get up and carry Sherlock to his room, so the only option left was to stay and enjoy this moment.
Besides, John didn't want to interrupt whatever Sherlock is dreaming about. He looks so peaceful and has a warm smile on his face. It's not every day you see this side of him. So John fell asleep on Sherlock's curly hair with a small smile.
When John woke up, he realized he was in his room, on his bed. John was starting to think the scenario that occurred was just one of his fantasies, but then Mycroft came in with his usual creepy smile.
"Hello John, how are you of this morning?" Mycroft smoothly questioned while walking over to the side of John's bed with his umbrella clutched by his side.
"I am… well. How is Sherlock?" John was very curious as to how he got in his room without waking up. Usually, John is a light sleeper. How odd.
"Yes, Sherlock is currently in his room with Anthea. She injected him with some Ibuprofen and has made sure my dear brother will not gain consciousness anytime soon. I am aware of Sherlock's condition. Please do not worry." Mycroft reassured John.
John was not convinced.
'The bugger probably drugged him.'
"Do you honestly believe I desire to take such horrid actions upon my brother? I see this is necessary for his health to improve, wouldn't you agree, Dr. Watson?" Mycroft challenged John with an expression of glee, knowing he has won this discussion.
'Damn, the bugger got me there.' John disdainfully realized.
"Yes, I agree." John admitted disappointedly.
"Splendid, shall we go to where Sherlock is?"
John perked up at this, and instantly sped down the stairs, into Sherlock's room while Mycroft watched the scene unfold with an amused gleam in his eye.
When John dropped in, he noticed Sherlock was, as Mycroft said, unconscious lying on his bed rapped in purple covers, his left arm laid limply on his side while his right arm was resting over his chest with a neat bandage wrapped around his wound. Sherlock's curly hair seemed a little more untamed than usual but it made him look like a young child, especially since his facial features are relaxed. His expression was not like earlier though. The one he wears now is calm and it demeanors quite nicely on his usual stern face.
Sherlock is breathtaking.
John forgot there was guests at the moment as he stepped towards Sherlock's side, raised his hand towards his sleeping flat mate and rested the palm of his hand on Sherlock's cheek having the warmth of his face crawl into John's hand, slowly creeping up his arm giving John heavenly chills. John, then, moved his hand up into Sherlock's curly jet black hair to try and tame the fuzz that threatened to curl around John's slim fingers. John was going to lean his head against Sherlock's forehead however a sudden cough snapped John out of the trance like state he was under as he jumped back from Sherlock's side as if he shocked him.
"It seems you have gained feelings for Sherlock. Though I cannot say I am surprised as I have expected this for quite a while. How does it feel Dr. Watson? To have feelings for someone who is devoid of any emotion. Dr. Watson I know you are aware of this but you have made a dramatic change in Sherlock's life. You have shown Sherlock that he is capable of having feelings once again." Mycroft calmly deduced as he strolled into Sherlock's room and took his place besides Anthea who, John surprisingly forgotten about was currently texting on her Blackberry mobile non-stop.
"Oh, well um, yes I'm aware of him being vulnerable… Moriarty made that quite clear."
John could have sworn he saw Mycroft wince at the name.
"Yes, well Dr. Watson, this little chat has been nice but, I have to head to my office now. I am running late for a very important government meeting."
Mycroft suddenly appeared in front of John and whispered, "If you hurt Sherlock, you will be sanctioned to cruel punishment. Are we clear?"
John looked up at Mycroft shrinking a little under the intensity of his stare. John shifted his feet before he answered.
"Yes we are." John confirmed with a nod.
'Incredible. After all the years I have spent in war, seeing dead bodies hit the floor and friends have their heads blown off, I still cower under an intense stare. How pathetic of me.' John sulkily thought to himself after Mycroft nodded in approval and left the flat.
'Now', John looked back at Sherlock's sleeping form. 'I'm all alone with him again. When will he wake up?'
John awkwardly sat down next to Sherlock and before he knew it, he nodded off.
When John woke up, he was once again, lying on his bed. John laid there for a few minutes and tried to collect his thoughts.
'How the hell do I end up on my bed? Is this all a dream? Am I undergoing inception, or something?' John rushed out of his bed with the intent of getting some answers but what he got instead was Sherlock who was bright eyed and bushy tailed.
"Good afternoon John. Lestrade recently texted me information on a new murder case. Isn't this thrilling? Let's go." John had no chance to say anything as Sherlock rushed by him and went outside to hail a cab. John huffed in annoyance for being ignored and followed soon after.
While in the cab, John was thinking about the myriad of questions rolling in his head that he desperately wanted to ask Sherlock, but John didn't know if he should ask lat-
"If you are wondering about this morning, I injured myself while conducting one of my experiments."
"But you were using silverware… What could you possibly be experimenting on with silverware? You didn't have any cases at the time, so it couldn't be for a case... Do you mind filling me in?" John was genuinely confused as to what Sherlock was up to.
Sherlock turned his head towards John and looked at him with… uncertainty?
'How do I explain this to John?' Sherlock pondered for a moment.
"You are certainly improving on observation. I made an attempt to make you breakfast."
John gawked at Sherlock as if he grew a second head.
'He did that for me?'
"But what brought this on all of a sudden?" John asked quickly.
Sherlock didn't answer as the cab pulled over at Scotland Yard. Sherlock got out and left John to pay the cabbie. John hurriedly paid the money and went to his flat mate's side and entered the building.
"Hello freak." Sally spat out.
"Ah Donovan, it's nice to see you too. How are things with Anderson?" Sherlock sniffed the air and gave Sally a mocked confused face.
"Strange, I don't smell his deodorant on you anymore. How odd." Sherlock smirked as he walked passed her heading towards Lestrade's office.
"Piss off!" Sally yelled after him with a frown stuck to her face as she sped walked away.
John wanted to laugh but he bit it back. There's always time for that later.
"Sherlock, John! Finally you guys are here. We haven't got any leads, so we had no choice but to call you in." Lestrade explained with a look of relief and disappointment.
"Good afternoon DI Lestrade." Sherlock greeted before rushing to the table with eager eyes that roamed all over the place deducing information that was given to him.
John walked over to Lestrade and continued to watch Sherlock work his magic.
'I wish he'd work his magic on me.'
John's eyes widened in shock.
'Why the bloody hell am I having these thoughts now?'
John slapped his face in hopes he would snap out of it.
It didn't work.
It only gave him a confused Lestrade and a Sherlock who gave him a quick amused glance and went back to looking at the leads.
"John… Did you just slap yourself?"
John looked at the confused detective inspector who was staring at John with concern.
John quickly tried to gain his composure.
"Huh? Oh um… I saw a fly." John lamely explained.
"Okay then,… so are you going to explain what happened to Sherlock's forearm or am I going to have to play Sherlock and try to deduce it?" Lestrade jokingly asked. John could tell Lestrade was trying to change the subject, and for that, John was grateful.
"He got that while…" John looked towards Sherlock for some type of sign as to what to say . Sherlock looked up and mouthed, 'experiment'.
"Conducting one of his experiments." John quickly explained.
"Ah, so Mycroft was right." Lestrade mumbled to himself.
John paused then gave Lestrade a curious look.
"Excuse me? Mycroft?" John asked.
At this point, Sherlock silently joined the conversation.
"Yes John, our friend Lestrade is in a relationship with Mycroft. It's quite obvious really." Sherlock stated in a matter-of-fact tone.
John slowly glanced over to a now red-faced Lestrade.
AN: Good? Bad?
I hope I didn't mess up on anything.
Pretty please with a cherry on top! Let me know what you think!
Have a nice day!~
