The Lights Out
"I'm glad we got out this afternoon," John mused as he looked out of the small bedroom window once they'd returned to their room, "it's really lashing down now."
Sherlock hummed in agreement as he shut their bedroom door, locking it behind himself. He hung his coat up and ruffled his own curls before sitting down on the edge of the bed with his phone, opening up the internet to check the weather forecast.
John realised he was still staring even after Sherlock had sat down and he quickly averted his eyes and took off his own coat, hanging it by Sherlock's.
There was a faint rumble outside and John returned to the window to look out at the dark clouds that were starting to engulf the hotel, the rain coming down so fast they looked like long shards of ice.
"The storm is meant to last tonight and most of tomorrow," Sherlock said as he read through the weather forecast online.
John sighed and nodded slightly, still looking out of the window. Sherlock glanced over at him when he didn't verbally reply.
"We could put the television on, see if there's anything worth deducing," he suggested. John cleared his throat before tearing his eyes away from the window and smiling.
"Sure," he replied and sat down on the bed, propping the pillows up against the headboard.
Sherlock grabbed the remote for the small TV that sat on the desk and swivelled it around to face the bed before he sat down beside John, handing him the remote.
"Probably won't be much on," John murmured as he started flipping through the channels, stopping now and then on random programmes before he settled on one of the soaps that was on.
Sherlock raised an eyebrow before relaxing back against the headboard and clasping his hands over his own stomach comfortably, noting that John's shoulder and thigh was brushing his own.
About an hour later, the storm was really raging outside, rain and wind bashing at the window and thunder growling over the sound of the TV quite often now. The two men were now mostly pressed against each other's sides, John's head on Sherlock's shoulder, smiling and chuckling as Sherlock deduced the see-through plotlines and obvious character archetypes, making sarcastic comments as he deduced.
A sudden flash of lighting after a particularly loud rumble of thunder made John look over at the window automatically, although they'd closed the curtains and thus couldn't see anything. That's when the lights cut out. Lights, the TV, the digital clock by the bed, everything electrical.
"Wonderful, a power cut," John grumbled.
He flapped his hand around in the dark, trying to grab his phone for some light. Sherlock sat up and stretched, his eyes adjusting to the dark so that he could just make out the outlines of the large pieces of furniture in the room. John grabbed his phone eventually and unlocked it, the screen lighting up. He used it as a makeshift torch to find his way to the window and open up the curtains, letting in a bit of light now, enough so the room was mostly visible.
"Just a fuse or trip-switch, streetlights and the lights on the pier are still on," Sherlock commented, appearing at John's side. John jumped and backhanded Sherlock's arm slightly.
"Fuck, Sherlock, don't do that," he said. Sherlock chuckled slightly and rest a hand on his shoulder.
"I apologise, John," he said and smirked, "I would have thought an ex-soldiers ears would have been more sensitive than that."
John snorted and rolled his eyes but chuckled. Another flash of lightening and John leant against Sherlock, smiling slightly as he felt the detective's arm sliding around his back and resting on his side.
"You're afraid of storms, every time the thunder has sounded you've tensed, even when we were watching television," Sherlock stated and John sighed.
"Not…not afraid as such but…well you know what I'm like with unexpected loud bangs," he said quietly.
Sherlock hummed in understanding and led John back over to the bed. The shorter man lay down again and was surprised, although very veryhappy as the tall detective lay down behind him, spooning him.
"The thunder isn't unexpected, it's predictable," Sherlock said softly, his arms around John with one hand on his stomach and one hand on his chest.
The doctor rest his hands on top of Sherlock's and chuckled slightly.
"Are you seriously suggesting what I think you're-?"
The thunder cut off the rest of John's sentence and he let out a little breath. Sherlock's lips against the back of his neck caused the next little breath but it was in surprise this time. Sherlock began counting quietly. The man reached thirteen before the thunder rumbled again and John tensed.
"Now you'll know that every thirteen seconds there'll be thunder," Sherlock said.
John remained quiet as he counted in his head and prepared himself, indeed hearing the thunder outside as he reached thirteen.
"Thanks," he mumbled and gave a squeeze to one of Sherlock's hands.
"My pleasure, I can't have my blogger scared, I don't like seeing you like that," Sherlock told him and John smiled slightly.
John had never realised how much he enjoyed hearing the detective refer to him as one of his possessions. 'My John', 'my blogger'; those sorts of things made John's chest flutter.
They lay in silence for at least twenty minutes before John slowly turned around and nestled into Sherlock's chest, his nose brushing against Sherlock's neck as he pushed his face into the crook. He was much more relaxed now, even though he'd lost count of the seconds between the thunder; with Sherlock there, he had something to focus on. One of Sherlock's hands settled in the dip at John's lower back and the other one started rubbing soothingly at the back of the doctor's neck.
"Mmm, that feels nice," John mumbled and closed his eyes.
Sherlock smiled and merely hummed, continuing with the rubbing, his fingertips working out little twisted knots he could feel under the tanned flesh. It was another ten minutes before John could force himself to look up and smile at Sherlock gratefully. The detective tilted his head down to smile back but he realised how close their faces were, their noses brushing. His cheeks started to tinge pink and he swallowed slightly.
"I…John…"
The doctor's mouth had gone dry and he couldn't decide whether he wanted to look at Sherlock's eyes or his lips, both very tempting in their own right. Just as he was about to lean in there was a knock at the door that made him jump and thus knock their foreheads together hard. Both of them made noises of pain, John's a grunted curse and Sherlock's a little short gasp.
"Sorry," John mumbled, standing up as he rubbed his forehead.
Stupid, stupid Watson, what the fuck was that!?
He headed over to the door and opened it, wincing again but this time having to cover his eyes as well as someone shined a light in his face.
"Sorry! Just me, Gordon," the voice said. John gave a little smile and nodded.
"Oh, hi, storm cause a fuse to blow or something," he asked Gordon. Gordon lowered the torch and nodded.
"Yep, unfortunately I can't do anything about it but there'll be an electrician here first thing in the morning. Just came to check on you folks and see if you were alright," he said, his smile bright enough to blind John like the torch had.
"Yeah, yeah, we're fine, don't worry," John said and smiled back slightly. Gordon nodded.
"Right then, if you need anything, Bessie is still at the front desk so just come on down, though don't use the lift obviously," he said and gave a little one finger salute from his forehead before he walked off down the hallway.
John closed the door again and locked it before turning back towards the bed, sighing.
"I think I'm gonna try and get some sleep now, Sherlock," John said and the detective nodded.
"Alright, John, I shall turn my back and we can change at the same time," he said as he grabbed his pyjama bottoms.
Once they were both in their pyjamas, the detective climbed into bed and lay on his back, holding his phone up above his face as he surfed the web. John slid in beside him and curled up, sighing heavily as he closed his eyes.
"Night, Sherlock," John mumbled, trying to forget the fact that before Gordon had interrupted them they'd definitely been about to kiss. Sherlock looked down at John, giving a little smile even though John couldn't see it. An almost kiss could be forgotten easily enough…hopefully.
"Goodnight, John, sleep well," he whispered.
A/N - FINALLY finished my coursework and handed it in so here you go! Celebratory chapter. If you're lucky you might get a Christmas chapter as well but don't hold your breath ;) 3
