In honour of the mini episode BBC released, and due to my inability to make a good filler chapter, I present to you:
Scared Naked
A mini Chapter
"Sherlock, I'm back!" John called out as he walked into the flat, heading over to the table to put his things down, keys jingling in the quiet of the dim flat.
"Sherlock?"
Silence. The flat was absolutely silent.
John had begun to go back to work after his week's holiday, and Sherlock's grand revelation. Since then John had been constantly taking care of Sherlock, making sure everything was right, that nothing was wrong. He couldn't bear to think of what was going in Sherlock's mind, knowing that none of it would be kind to him. So his mind was given a shot of fear when no response came, and an emptiness radiated from the corners of the place.
"Sherlock!" he roared urgently, running about the place frantically, throwing doors open ravenously and shouting. Flinging the bathroom door open he found it empty, along with the fact that tears were falling down his face, and a clenching feeling in his gut was eating him raw.
"Sherlock." He called, voice wavering.
"John?" a small, sleepy voice questioned from behind him. "What's wrong?"
John whipped around to find Sherlock standing there, small as he obviously had just woken. He was wrapped messily in his bed sheet, hair sticking up in odd places, eyes heavy with sleep. John flung himself at the man, throwing his arms around him, pulling Sherlock close. Sherlock, flung so suddenly into the fact, faltered and his eyes shot open, stumbling awkwardly in the grip.
"What the-"
"Good God Sherlock! Don't you dare ever do that to me again! Or I swear to god I will…" His voice trailed off.
"You'll what?" Sherlock chuckled. "Kill me?"
"That's what I was afraid of." John whispered fearfully.
"Oh… Oh, John. Oh, my Watson. I… No. I wouldn't." And Sherlock lifted his arms to pull John closer to him, but he never got the chance, for the release of his hands sent his sheet tumbling down, puddling at the floor and leaving Sherlock in his natural state. John stepped back and blushed, taking him in. All Sherlock could do was stand there, completely shocked by the abrupt coldness, unable to do anything. At last, the silence was broken, but by John's laughter, which streaked through the air and lit Sherlock, giving back his air of confidence.
"Like it?" he asked, giving a pose, which sent John into a larger fit, doubling over. Sherlock strutted away in nothing but his skin, and behind him John found himself and called out
"Work it, work it, fashion baby!" which only caused Sherlock to burst out in laughter as well until he collapsed onto the couch, John trailing behind him with the sheet, draping it over him and falling down beside him. They laughed together, long and hard, until Sherlock gathered John in his bare arms and dragged him up and pulling him into a kiss.
And they probably would have continued on that way of it weren't for the knock at the door, and a timid call that most assuredly was not Molly, followed by the door opening and the head of Mrs. Hudson popping in.
"Hello John, I thought I heard…" She couldn't get the words out as her eyes fell on the barely dressed Sherlock that was wrapped around John. The Sherlock who she thought she had buried.