I decided i couldn't wait any longer to publish this so chapter 9 is a two parter, i said i'd do a ten chapter story so this is me cheating slightly (Chapter ten might also be in two parts and have an epilogue) Hey If JK can do it, why not me? Hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it! Let me know! 3
The Big Reveal.
John had figured out that life with Sherlock Holmes could be dangerous, pursued, shot at, and had bombs strapped to him, but none of that mattered because the excitement that he felt when he was on a case, or an adventure, was worth anything. Or so he thought.
Neither John nor Sherlock had realised just what they were getting themselves into, as John had bounded down the stairs to accompany his flatmate on another crime fighting escapade he had no idea the danger he would face. They had started on the trail of a missing teenage boy, Sherlock had been emailed by his worried parents, afraid he had ran off or been kidnapped. When John and Sherlock had managed to track him down, they hadn't expected to find his head separated from his body, stuck on a wooden pike with his mouth sewn shut. They immediately alerted the police, Lestrade had been one of the first on the scene, professional as usual
'Jesus Christ that's horrible' the Detective inspector shook his head ran his hands over his cheeks, feeling the stubble, it had been an early, unexpected start to the day and he hadn't had time to shave, 'Did you know it would be like this Sherlock?'
Sherlock was still surveying the crime scene, watched by the annoyed officers of Scotland Yard, their eyes glaring. As usual John answered for his friend
'No, we got a message from parents of a missing teen; we thought he was a run away, nothing much more. Or at least, that's what Sherlock told me.' John raised his eyebrows and Lestrade nodded knowingly Sherlock often leaves me out of the loop; he didn't need to say it for the DI to understand.
'Well it's a very distinctive kill, serial killer starting out maybe? Getting his signature early?' Lestrade looked over to Sherlock for some feedback, or, more likely, praise. He got neither.
' No I think it was gang related, or maybe drugs, the sewing of the mouth like this shows that whoever did it thought this kid was a snitch, he'd talked, maybe given information on a deal or something. Check records for any drug dealers or any criminals that were put in prison, or even just arrested on the information of someone claiming to be on the inside.' John nodded habitually, then had a thought of his own
'This boy's called Chris Peterson, why not check his criminal record, see if he's involved in any gangs or anything like that?'
Lestrade nodded at him appreciatively, Sherlock had looked up and was staring at John, but John didn't notice, which is when Sherlock realised, he wasn't looking for his recognition, John was being clever because he wanted to solve the case, not to impress him. And that was just brilliant.
They had managed to convince Lestrade to let them take records back to Baker Street, so Sherlock and John spent hours going through folders, searching for any connection that the decapitated boy may have to any criminals. He had been totally clean in terms of previous convictions, so they were left with all of the offenders who had been 'grassed on' and arrested due to a mystery informant. The clock had just struck midnight when John threw the folder he had been looking through to the ground and sat back in his chair with a groan.
'Can't we take a break Sherlock? I mean there's nothing I love more than reading the words 'actual bodily harm' over and over again-' Sherlock chuckled '- but I think we need to leave it for tonight, give our brains a rest.'
Sherlock turned his head slowly to look at John, raising his eyebrows as he did so
'Alright, fine, give my ordinary brain a rest' John amended, Sherlock smiled at him
'Your brain may not be the exquisite machine that mine is-'This time is was Johns turn to laugh. 'But it is my no means ordinary, I find you quite brilliant, sometimes. Not always but, the odd time...' Sherlock trailed off at the end before standing up and heading towards the kitchen, John felt a hot flush creeping up his neck, his palms began to sweat, he couldn't figure it out but the all the air in the flat seemed stifling,
'Sherlock?'
He heard an 'mm' noise from the kitchen
'Fancy a drink or something? There's some beer in the fridge I think.'
'John we're working-
'We're on a break
'Getting me drunk won't achieve anything you know'
'What?' John yelped, and his elbow that had been supporting his head slipped sideways off the table, sending his chin thudding into the wood.
'FFFU- OW.'
Sherlock came back into view carrying two bottles of beer, and frowning,
'Your chins read.'
'Yea thanks Sherlock, I guessed it would be after I smacked it on the table' he rubbed the sore spot feeling idiotic, waiting for the jibe he thought would inevitably come; he was wrong. Sherlock sat back down at the table passing John one of the beers; he moved his chair closer and stretched out his hand towards Johns face,
'Sherlock what you doing?' John recoiled, like dodging a bullet.
'John stop fidgeting, I'm taking a look at your chin – to make sure it's not bleeding on the files'
'Right well, I'm fine.' John had leaned as far away as possible, forcing himself against the chair back, almost tilting it, the front two legs were only just touching the floor,
'Don't be ridiculous John, as a doctor you should sometimes accept that you're the one that needs looking after.'
John felt trapped, Sherlock had moved himself right to edge of his chair, he was almost hovering off it to lean forward, the pale, spidery hand got closer. John felt ridiculous; it was completely irrational for his mouth to be dry or for him to be able to hear his heartbeat pounding in ears. Time slowed down to an unbearable speed as the hand got closer and closer. John wanted more than anything to screw his eyes up, to prepare himself for whatever sensations that hand on his cheek would bring but his brain told him that closing is eyes would seem more accepting than dreading. No amount of delayed time could have equipped John for the feeling of Sherlock's spidery fingers sliding across his cheek, his palm cupping his chin. With each passing second the skin where Sherlock was touching changed from burning hot to freezing ice cold, his strange green eyes stared at the red mark near John's jawline, totally oblivious to the effect the contact was causing. To distract himself, John started to count Sherlock's eyelashes, praying with each one that he wasn't revealing his feelings. He knew he couldn't deny them, not to himself, he had been struggling to supress it for so long. He didn't know exactly what it was but he knew that Sherlock was so much more than a friend, when he was gone, John felt like half a person, he couldn't walk into a room without immediately looking towards Sherlock, he sought his approval, his opinion, even his affection but this was more affection than he could physically take. John had often allowed him to make excuses to touch his flatmate, squeezing past him when he could have gone round, passing him things and letting his hand linger on the object a second too long, but he had always told himself it was because he still couldn't believe Sherlock was back, alive. He thought he needed to touch him to prove his existence; he actually needed to touch him because really, Sherlock was his existence. He was the only thing John woke up for and wouldn't change that for the world. He could feel two of Sherlock's slender fingers ghosting from his jawline to his neck. He felt the two fingers pushing down and for a split second he was confused, his brain caught up just as Sherlock spoke
'Your pulse is racing John.' Sherlock's voice was softer than he had ever heard it, he was staring at him, his head slightly tilted and his lips parted, John just stared back and swallowed hard, his voice was trapped in his throat ,Sherlock nibbled his bottom lip before continuing to fill the thick silence
'You feel a bit warm too actually; maybe you're coming down with something, maybe a fever of some sort.' The corner of Sherlock's mouth twitched into a half smirk, it was the arrogant, self-important smirk that he had when he had done something particularly clever. It drove John's insides crazy and that was when he finally lost control.
He rose slightly out of his chair and lurched forward, for a split second he paused at the stunned expression on Sherlock's face as he hovered inches above him, but he decided that it was too late to back out and he grabbed his flatmate by the shoulders and pushed him firmly into the seat. Not allowing for a retreat, he then closed the gap between them, allowing himself a moment to brush his nose against Sherlock's before pressing their lips together. Stars erupted behind John's closed eyelids, he began moving his lips, attempting to deepen the kiss but Sherlock sat there, unrelenting and jaw set. It wasn't exactly what John had been hoping for, after the initial excitement, he began to feel a sinking feeling, he was making all the effort, his hands had worked themselves into Sherlock's curls but he was the only one getting involved. Ever so slowly John eased back, removing his hands and standing up painfully straight, all the while with his eyes closed. He took a deep breath before opening them to whatever Sherlock's reaction was going to be.
Sherlock was sat in the exact same position that John had released him, he was frozen with his hands dangling by his side, his eyes were looking up at the ceiling, unblinking. If his chest hadn't been rising and falling with the intake and expulsion of air then he would have looked dead. It was an eerie image and it made John feel sick to his stomach, he was suddenly terrified, he had let his emotions and his desires get the best of him and he had thrown his own life and Sherlock's in total disarray
'Sherlock?'
Nothing
'Sherlock? Please, say something'
Still nothing
'Oh god Sherlock I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. I really don't know why I did it –'
'Don't you?' Sherlock had suddenly snapped back into life, he was now looking at John, frowning, his eyes darting all over him, lazering every inch of him. 'Do you really not know why you did that?'
John stuttered, he had to take another deep breath before proper words would come out
'Well, I, not exactly –'
' Then perhaps you shouldn't have done it.'
John was starting to get the impression he was being told off, Sherlock's voice was hard and unforgiving, he felt mortified, a lump appeared in this throat and he could feel tears welling up in his eyes. Sherlock narrowed his eyes, and gave John another glance over before standing up, the height advantage gave him even more of a disciplinarian air and it wasn't pleasant.
' For example I would never engage in such a rash action without having a reason, perhaps it was an experiment? '
'No it's not like that, I wanted to, I think- I don't know-'
'Do you want to have sex with me?'
'WHAT? No!' He was being honest, he hadn't had an agenda, he wasn't trying to seduce his friend into bed, it was just an innocent kiss, it was all he'd wanted, well, he hadn't really given it a thought, and he hadn't let his mind wander into such forbidden territory. Sherlock had remained silent, John knew his face was betraying how fast his mind was working and he also knew that Sherlock's mind was moving faster and he would have to get his point across as quickly as possible
'Look Sherlock, its not like that, its not a sexual thing, for some reason I just got the urge to kiss you, nothing more, I didn't want to take your clothes off or anything like that, it was just a kiss. '
Sherlock blinked slowly before he spoke
'Why did you want to kiss me John?'
It was beginning to feel like interrogation and John was suffering enough internally, he had already been rejected; he didn't need the added humiliation of explaining himself. He tried to leave the room, eager to get to his room and curl up under the covers and, hopefully, die. Sherlock sidestepped in front of him, John was in no mood to be messed with
'Get out of my way Sherlock, I'm going to bed'
'Do you want me to come with you? Is that what you're asking for?'
Sherlock was seriously pushing Johns buttons now, he was being punished for letting his guard down and it wasn't fair, all he'd done is love him and he was making him suffer for it
'Leave me alone, just forget anything happened.' He pushed past his friend but a firm grip on his lower arm made him turn around
'Let me go Sherlock!'
'I can't do that John, I need to know exactly what was going through that fascinating head of yours'
'Stop mocking me Sherlock! Just let me go to my room. In fact, forget that, I'm going to Mary's'
'Wait, John. Please?' Sherlock's tone had changed, it was less clinical, it made John want to stay, he always had a soft spot for Sherlock's 'human' voice. 'I need to know why you kissed me, it's important'
John ran his hand over his face and massaged his brow; his head was starting to hurt
'I need to know why you kissed me John' Sherlock took a deep, shuddering breath and it caught his attention, he took his hand from in front of his face and looked up at his friend, Sherlock was steeling himself for something and John had no idea what it was, he just felt like his heart had stopped beating as Sherlock continued to speak
'Because if you did it because you feel something deeper for me with me then I can kiss you back knowing that I'm not the only one who has feelings that can't be ignored anymore.'
Whatever John had been expecting, it certainly wasn't that. He could feel his mouth drop open and he suspected he looked somewhat like a fish that had been thrown on the deck of a trawler, gasping for air. He needed to form some sort of words
'Sherlockwhatareyousaying?' It was more of a tumble of words than a sentence but it would have to do, a large, fluffy object seemed to have settled itself in John's brain. Sherlock looked in pain, his face was screwed up, his head drooped down and his fists were clenched
'What I am saying is that I have been experiencing emotion concerning you that I believe to be regarded as more than friendly and I need to know that you kissing me wasn't due to being an experiment, being bored, lonely or it having been a while.'
There was something in Sherlock's eyes as they met his own that caused the inside of John's stomach melt, he felt as though a calm was spreading throughout his body, down his limbs, it was an almost out of body experience but it made him feel strong. Seeing Sherlock so vulnerable and so utterly out of his comfort zone was, for some odd reason, extremely appealing. John didn't think it was a sadistic thing, he had a suspicion that he was the only person that had ever witnessed this man falling so beautifully apart, becoming unravelled, he was no longer arrogant or confident, he was raw and open and knowing that Sherlock trusted him to see it made Johns heart swell, and, he was alarmed to realise, his heart wasn't the only thing that was beginning to swell.
'Sherlock. I think you are amazing and wonderful and for some reason I want you to think that I am amazing and wonderful too. I kissed you because it is something I've wanted to do ever since I lost you, or I thought I had lost you. As soon as I found out you'd died kissing you seemed like the most important thing I ever missed out on.' John's throat had gone tight, he was pretty certain he wouldn't be able to explain this without crying, which made it so difficult to continue, but continue he did. 'I never really believed you were dead because I couldn't bring myself to realise that I'd never get to kiss you or that you'd never know how I felt. But then when you came back I didn't want to ruin everything, I had you back and for a while that was all that mattered. I denied it, and lied to everyone, even myself, I convinced myself that I only ever wanted you when I lost you, but the truth is I've wanted to grab you and kiss you for so long, fighting that urge has just become a part of my life.' The tears had started rolling down his cheeks, it hadn't been the first time he'd cried in front of his best friend but it was important that his words meant more than his tears could show. 'I don't know why I finally decided to act on how I feel but I know that I kissed you because I am completely, ridiculously, undeniably in love with you.'
John had definitely ran out of breath by the time he managed to force out the last syllable, luckily however, Sherlock had decided it was prudent to give him immediate mouth to mouth resuscitation. Sherlock's arm stretched over Johns shoulder and slammed the door to the hallway shut, before pushing him against him and kissing him fiercely; it definitely wasn't like the first time, it was hungry and passionate, like he was trying to draw a life force from John that could only taken by making his heart and head explode simultaneously. Even out of breath John didn't need telling twice to reciprocate fervently, the combination of both men having a desperate need to claim the other meant that it was a lip crushing, sometimes teeth colliding moment, but it neither of them would trade it for the world, for the first time in their lives they felt completely free and unrestrained by any boundaries, they were encapsulated in that moment, the whole world could burn and there eyelids would not have even flickered. It was intense but it was innocent, neither of them had any intension of stepping up the heat, they were in new territory and it needed to be thoroughly explored before anything more could happen, and they both relished the exploration.
Eventually they broke apart, not even Sherlock could calculate how long they had been connected, how long his hand had been on the back of Johns neck, or how long Johns hands had clutched at the front of his shirt. His mind was blissfully quiet, but as he slowly opened his eyes the noise of the world came roaring back into his brain, but for those few moments he had been at peace. Interesting he thought.
John followed suit and also opened his eyes, releasing his grasp on Sherlock's shirt, he had left a creases where he had clutched tightly with sweating hands. He wanted to apologise but he had no strength left to speak, just to grin, as wide as he ever had, it almost hurt to do so. Sherlock was most taken aback
'What's the smile for? I've never seen you smile like that.' He removed his hand from the back of Johns head, sliding it across his cheek as he did so, the smile widened,
'You've never kissed me like that.' John looked down nervously, he suddenly felt very exposed, he had exposed his very core and it was a leap of faith, he was currently hurtling through the air with no clear landing platform, only a long possible drop.
'I've never kissed anyone like that John. I've never loved anyone like this before.'
John's leap of faith paid off, he had landed, safe and warm in Sherlock's waiting arms, his soul still soared high above, and explosion of joy.
'I know you're still high on endorphins but could we maybe get back onto the case? Before anyone else dies, I know how much that kind of thing bothers you.' Sherlock was eager to get back to work, not because he didn't want to carry on kissing John but because he knew he could do it every day until the end of forever if he didn't distract himself. He hoped John understood.
'Of course. I think we need to process what just happened anyway, taking our mind of it for a bit might be a good thing before we get carried away.' He still couldn't stop grinning.
Sherlock started grinning too, obviously John understood. John loved him.
End of Part One!
:O what do you think? 3
