Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: Thank you for all the kind support. It really encourages and inspires me. Like this chapter for instance, came to me while eating and instead of working on my report, I'm writing fanfiction...
PS Hello King42! So happy to see you! Bells! Crazy80! Blah! You all make me so happy /
Sherlock was eating toast.
Well, that wasn't the anomaly. It was that Sherlock Holmes was eating toast at breakfast. But if Sherlock really faced the situation, that wasn't what was odd about it either. It was that he was eating breakfast with John...that was some of it but there was still another part missing.
Sherlock took a few slow chews of his toast and the thought, that had been alluding him, finally struck. He was eating breakfast with the same person he had eaten dinner (albeit a late one) with. Even reaching into the farthest parts of his mind, he couldn't remember when that had happened.
When he had been a child, his mother had always been busy with planning events. His father had been running a (or several) company. Mycroft had been in the government since he was sixteen. Sure, they had all eaten together, mostly on holidays, but never one meal after another.
Sherlock sat in contemplative, then stunned silence, taking in the scene around him. John was quietly reading the newspaper after making breakfast. His hair was wet, having just taken a shower, and he was wearing one of Sherlock's old t-shirts.
Domestic. That was the word he was looking for. They looked like they did this every morning. Shower, breakfast and then the day. Sherlock's eyes darted around frantically. This is ridiculous. So average, dull...Just like when he had been telling himself that John Watson was an 'everyman', Sherlock knew he was lying; trying to convenience himself that it happened to other people but it didn't happen to him.
John sighed. "Work is going to be hell today. Think I need some more aspirin." John's chair scooted back and he had his way over to the cabinets. Sherlock smiled at John and it quickly became a frown and then a blank expression took over his features.
God, he feels so comfortable here. Almost as if John belongs here in 221B...with me. It had been so slow and so fast. Sherlock could have tried to stop it, but he really hadn't wanted too. John, here, with me, every morning, noon and night. Us. Together.
Before, the thought of another human invading his privacy had given him chills- from the thought of their grabby hands on his experiments and driving him crazy. Now, now chills, and the thought of grabby hands all over him, was driving him crazy, but for a completely different variety.
Sherlock let out a light gasp and as he felt blood pooling in his lower half. There was no denying it, not only his brain but his body was responding to the thought of John. What can I do to make him stay? Sherlock needed to formulate a plan so that John would not leave...or maybe, if he was lucky, not want to leave.
"So, I better be off to work then. I'll be here after my shift, say 4pm work for you?"
Sherlock shook his head, clearing the fog out of it. "Uh, yes. Four sounds perfectly acceptable."
John gave him a smile and went into the bathroom to change his shirt. Sherlock felt his heart skip a beat.
"I can't do that!"
Sherlock loved visiting the morgue, especially when a fresh body arrived that had been donated to science or for its organs, and today turned out to be one of those lucky days. Molly had just called him with some excellent news and he dashed off right away. Unfortunately, he made the mistake of asking her about John, and soon as her flailing about had stopped, she proceed to give the worse advice (in Sherlock's opinion) ever.
"Why not?" Molly asked while unzipping the body bag.
"Sure, I can just say 'Let's go out on a date?'. It's too simple, too boring. Besides, I need to trick him, although that won't be too difficult."
"Yes, exactly why do you need to trick him again?"
Sherlock rolled his eyes and proceeded to study the corpse. "Molly, one does not go about this without proper consideration. It needs to be done with elegance and I refuse to sound like I actual want to be with him."
Molly gritted her teeth and forced a smile. "Why don't you take him to one of those parties your brother always makes you go too? Although, I don't know..."
A public setting. Not really a date, but more than just staying at the flat. I can get dressed up again...I know he likes the way my ass looks in those dark blue dress trousers. Sherlock's eyes alighted with an evil gleam. "I suppose, yes, that would do quite adequately."
"You're welcome." Molly smiled. "He must be pretty special this, John Watson."
Sherlock continued to exam the corpse, happy that he had been able to handle the problem so quickly and efficiently.
"I am not going to another one of those bloody parties." John's face screwed up in irritation. "Why in the world would you think I would ever want to go to another one of those?"
Sherlock had been expecting some resistance but John was proving to be more stubborn than he would have imagined.
"Please." Although it hadn't worked last time, Sherlock let his eyes take on a sad quality and his voice dropped, looking as pathetic as possible.
John let out a snort.
Okay, I can't fool him with that then. He was in the middle of formulating another excuse or plea when John spoke up. "Fine, fine. I'll go to the stupid thing. Explain to me again, why am I doing this?"
"Stop whining and sit still. I'm trying to outline your nose."
Sherlock fiddled with his collar. He really hated ties. The high tight knot made him feel like he was choking. In all actuality, if it wasn't for John, he would have found an excuse to bow out all together. Last time I couldn't show him how charming I can be.
If John could see how others fawned on him, he was sure to get jealous, and that would lead to John wanting to see more of him, which, in turn, would result in John needing Sherlock. It was an obvious chain of reactions, leading to the desired conclusion.
John needing me. It sent a jolt through his veins. It didn't matter really what steps were took, as long as the end result was the same. With John's undivided attention, he could accompany him to crime scenes and tell him how brilliant he was on a regular basis and make tea for him. Naturally, there would be the annoyance of John demanding he eat or sleep, but it seemed like a reasonable bargain.
Instead of a knock, Sherlock heard his front door open. "Here!"
"Obviously." He gave himself a look over once more in the mirror and went out to met John.
It was an uneventful evening. All the patrons had complemented Sherlock on everything possible and he had took it with a cold detachment, only acting embarrassed or pleased when John was near enough to hear it. He saw John's eyes flash dangerously a few times (with what he hoped was jealousy) and Sherlock smiled to himself.
Once they had returned to the flat, Sherlock expected to hear a waterfall of praises from John. Instead, John had a different idea.
"I can't make it tomorrow, I have a date."
Sherlock's eyes narrowed. Of all the statements he had been hoping for, this one hadn't been one of them. "Excuse me, a date?"
"Yeah, it's when two people who like each other go out."
"Isn't that what we just did?" Sherlock tried to keep the confusion out of his voice but he really didn't understand. What more did John want from him?
John rubbed his temples. "Yes, I mean no, I don't know. Was it?"
"If one person doesn't like the other person than I suppose, yes, it wasn't a 'date'." Sherlock tried to keep the bite out of his words but it was underlining every word he spoke.
"Well, then. That settles it." John proceeded to rub the heel of his palm over his forehead. "I don't understand why you have to be so touchy about it."
"I'm not being 'touchy'." Sherlock sounded scandalized.
"Yes, yes, you are. You know, I'm really beginning to regret this whole thing. I was thrown into it without anyone caring about what I thought. God, you're such a fucking baby. I thought some of my girlfriend's were bad...You're such a priss."
"I am not." Sherlock lowered his tone. "Just because simpletons don't understand me..."
John threw his hands up and interrupted him. "Because, I'm Sherlock Holmes and no one can compete with my massive intellect! Right? Well, guess what? I have a date and I won't be here tomorrow and the day after that isn't looking too good either."
Sherlock went to open his mouth, but John won't let him speak.
"No, I'm leaving now. End of discussion. Why is this even a discussion? I'm you're client. Not a friend, not even an acquaintance. Just a painting you can hang on the wall, so everyone can tell you how fucking marvelous you are!" With that, John slammed the door close.
Sherlock let his shoulders slump for only a moment. It had been a foolish thought really...Sherlock let out a weak laugh. Alone is what have, what I am. Alone protects me. With that thought, Sherlock squared his shoulders. He didn't need anyone and he certainly didn't need John Watson.
