So I think I'm going to start doing author notes. I'm just warning everyone that this might turn into smut might. I really like reviews (just like every other author). If I make any mistakes, or you feel like you have any suggesting that could improve my writing, feel free to tell me. Enjoy!
Steam clouded the bathroom mirror by the time the water was switched off. John leant panting against the tile wall in the shower, letting the last of the hot water flow down his form and into the drain before slowly stepping out and pressing a towel to his face. His shaking hands pressing the material firmly against his eyes, trying desperately to think of anything besides the fact that he just jacked off while thinking of his best friend. Trying and failing to stop thinking about how this was becoming a sadly regular thing, about how he found his childish, arrogant, male best friend attractive. Fuck.
This felt so wrong... Afterwards.
Fuck.
I wouldn't have to do this if that sod stopped chasing off my girlfriends
Yeah I'll keep telling myself that
Fuck.
He sighed into the towel, pulling it away from his face and wrapping it around his waist as he stepped forward and opened the door, practically walking into a fluffy-haired, expressionless Sherlock.
"Jesus! Sherlock-"
"I'm sorry." Sherlock was looking somewhere over johns shoulder.
The unexpected words and tone of voice made John jump for the third time that day.
Panic flooded through him as he irrationally thought that Sherlock was apologizing for chasing women away, for being so sexy that he was making his friend wank off after they had a completely normal conversation, for inadvertently making him have a small mental breakdown after every hot shower.
Sherlock had probably already noticed dozens of tiny signs that told him what he had just been doing.
John wouldn't be surprised if he could deduce that John had a kink for the way he moved, and almost every physical feature the man possessed.
Was it possible to have a kink for a person? God, what the fuck-
The panic was gone in a second, and he put a hand over his eyes as he breathed a sigh out of his nose.
"it's ok, just don't stand so close to the door, why are you even-"
"No. John. I'm sorry."
Those pale eyes drifted directly to johns.
The expression on his face made John inhale sharply.
"Oh."
Sherlock just stood there, less than a foot away, staring down at john.
John felt like melting into a short-doctor-sized puddle under the full attention of those beautiful eyes.
A hand rose to cover his face. Don't let him see these thoughts in your eyes.
I don't want to have this conversation.
Let's not do this.
"Let's not do this. Please. Just… it's ok. It's alright. I'm ok. I wasn't even surprised. The work is everything, I knew that. It was for the case," a small smile pulled at the corner of his lips, "I'm just… happy to contribute." He gazed straight ahead at Sherlock's chest.
He couldn't see it, but he still felt the stare pinning him on the spot.
Sherlock wasn't even dignifying that with an answer. His lanky frame just stayed there, blocking the door, trapping John.
The feeling of being hunted by a wild animal slammed into John again, for the second time in the last hour.
Still just as hot.
His nose crinkled as he cringed.
Fuck. Aren't I a little old to be thinking like a masochistic teenage girl?
What is my life even turning into?
He found himself laughing manically at the thought.
His hand returned to the left side of his face, covering only one of his eyes as he dared to look back up at up at the consulting detective. Relief flooded his consciousness as he saw that the look of uncharacteristic sadness on Sherlock's face had faded into a look of confused amusement. The good doctor smirked wildly as caught his friend's eye, still shaking with completely inappropriate laughter.
Ever the brave soldier, he took a small step forward and wrapped his free arm around the taller man's waist, pulling Sherlock's tense form against him as he buried his face in his friend's chest.
"Listening to you apologize to someone always scares the hell out of me, you unsentimental sod."
His shirt smells like laundry and tea. I bet this is the first time he's been hugged in years. Fuck, what am I doing? God, he should eat more, I can feel his ribs. This must have been bothering Sherlock for a while. I'm being apologized to by Sherlock-fucking-Holmes. Christ. I should probably let go now.
John couldn't stop himself from nuzzling into the warm shirt one more time before taking a quick step back, suddenly remembering he was half naked. Against his best efforts, he felt his face go hot at the thought. The hand holding the towel in place tightened even more, his grey eyes falling to their nearly-touching feet outlined by the light tiles. The blush on his face deepened as he stood looking at Sherlock's perfect long feet.
The pitiful sound of john clearing his throat filled the tense silence.
"Good. Good talk Sherlock. Now, can I please leave the fucking bathroom," was the equally pitiful sentence john murmured after a few more seconds of incredibly awkward silence. He looked up from under his eyelashes just in time to see Sherlock roll his eyes and silently turn on his heels, gracefully disappearing around the corner with a dramatic flair of his bathrobe.
A long suffering sigh fell from John's lips as he took a moment to process what just happened then walked quickly to his room, collapsing back onto the door as soon as he closed it.
He covered his face with his hands again.
Everything is so fucked.
