Chp 11

Omg new chapter, new chapter with characters that aren't mine, in case you forgot lol.

John drifted slowly back into consciousness as he became aware of something very warm and very heavy pinning him to the hospital bed. It wasn't so much that he minded than that he was curious, because truth be told he found the sensation rather pleasant. He shifted underneath the weight trying to determine exactly what was causing these sensations, but not wanting to open his eyes because he could tell he would be opening them to a bright hospital room, as it was now morning and the blinds had been left open. However his wriggling was cut short as the weight clamped down on him to arrest the movement. John froze (not entirely by choice mind you), there was most certainly a person in his bed. Someone holding him in place, for god knows what reasons. It may not have been rational, but he began to panic. All he could think of was Moriarty, his thugs, criminals, Afghani insurgents, and the man... His PTSD made it near impossible for him to get these troublesome thoughts from his mind, so any situation he found even slightly disturbing could soon become a full blown panic attack. His heart rate accelerated and he could feel sweat forming on his brow, his breathing became quick and shallow. Whoever this person was they seemed to notice the change in John's condition and quickly rolled off him. He was terrified of what was to come next; he gripped onto the sheets so tightly that his knuckles became white. If he hadn't been in such bad shape he'd strike back, but he knew he was in no condition to fight, and he didn't like the idea of upsetting someone who might have plans to kill him. If they were going to, he'd at least like it to just be over quickly.

"John?"

Sherlock's voice came out smoothly, but there was a panic behind it. He brought his hand up to John's cheek and his face smoothed out just slightly. Sherlock had never seemed a fan of physical contact. In fact he often avoided touching people, especially John, much to his disliking. Sherlock always seemed a bit shaken up after John would hug him or if they were forced to be too close to one another for whatever reason. John had assumed he had experienced some past trauma, but now he supposed it could have been contributed by his heightened wolf senses.

"Sherlock? What are you doing in my bed?"

He decided now would be a good time for him to open his eyes and was graced with the image of Sherlock blushing. Sherlock was a man who didn't give much thought for others feelings or boundaries, nor did he concern himself with social regularities, so John couldn't reason out what exactly had elicited such a response.

"I…John, do you remember anything from last night?"

John scrunched his brow, trying to summon forth his memories. He remembered Sherlock trying to explain his condition…he remembered passing out, but neither of those seemed to explain why a now very red Sherlock Holmes was in his bed.

"I guess so…I know I blacked out during your explanation…sorry about that by the way."

Now it was his turn to blush, because he had known the reason he blacked out was because of this new found closeness and how it was interfering with his already strong feelings for his flat mate.

"Don't be."

Sherlock said quickly.

"John, it is not for you to be sorry about your condition. This was my doing, not yours, please do not apologize for what is not your fault…now, do remember any of what I said? Or maybe anything that may have happened after you lost consciousness?"

John was drawing a blank, he remembered Sherlock saying they were mates, the memory sent a shiver down his spine. He recalled Sherlock had said he needed to say something else, but then he had felt that closeness and soon the rolling darkness. Other than that he had slept soundly through the night…right? He had even had a rather nice dream, one that he hoped Sherlock was not in the bed for, the idea seemed rather indecent.

"You were saying we were mates, and then I was out. As for afterwards…this is the first I've been awake since."

Sherlock seemed to shift uncomfortably. John really wished he would just explain what was going on. He was beginning to get anxious himself with all these questions and nervous motions.

"I-well I-UGH! It shouldn't be this hard to communicate! Why is it that every time I talk to you my mind goes blank? All the evidence is pointing towards the fact that this should be a very easy conversation that you will agree whole heartedly…But…"

Sherlock ran his hands through his curls and let out a heavy sigh. John wasn't sure exactly what Sherlock was getting at, but he could tell it was something that the detective needed to get off his mind. So he reached forward and placed his left hand on Sherlock's right shoulder.

"But what Sherlock?"

"But I get these feelings, these dreadful feelings. They cloud my mind and make it near impossible for me to make a proper decision. I feel as though you will reject…my proposal, because of the deficiencies that I have categorized in myself."

He trailed off and lost eye contact with John. He seemed very distraught over whatever it is he needed to tell John. He tightened his grip on Sherlock's shoulder to encourage the man to continue. His eyes rose to meet John's, and John just gave him a supportive smile.

"There is nothing that you can say, that I will reject. How many times have you managed to convince me it's perfectly alright to store cadavers in the fridge? Hmm? Human body parts cohabitating with my food, if that doesn't convince you I don't know what will. Clearly I'm incapable of saying no to you."

This seemed to be what he needed to hear as Sherlock let a smile slowly spread across his face and his eyes grew soft.

"Yes, you do tend to allow me to get away with an awful lot… John, Just promise you will let me explain. Even if you are angry, just let me finish so you can understand why, ok? I'm telling you that you have to like my reasons, but at least let me tell them to you."

"Of course."

John straightened up and removed his hand, fully alert listening mode; no way would he allow himself to drift out of this one. Sherlock needed him to be attentive, so he gave him his undivided attention. Sherlock paused for a beat, but then his words began to spew forth in a frenzied manner. Like if he stopped for just a moment he would loose all courage to continue. He explained how his abilities made it hard to be around John; how John made him feel….How he had been going mad wanting to tell him. He confessed to being jealous of Sarah, to wanting to hurt her. He explained that he was afraid John wouldn't accept him. Then he took in a deep shaky breath, and briefly looked to his feet and then slowly back to John. Sherlock continued on to say how the previous night he had tried to tell John all these things but he had been out. He went on to say that later that night John woke up.

John froze. He did not remember that. He told John how he'd woken up and thought that he was dreaming, how he had adamant that he was dreaming, and how he kissed Sherlock. Jesus Christ he had kissed Sherlock! It wasn't just another one of his fantasies! This was horrible…or was it? Hadn't Sherlock already admitted he liked John? That he was in fact infatuated with him? He had hadn't he? Yes, and he was speaking of their kiss with the faintest of smiles and a glazed fuzzy sort of gaze and his fingers subconsciously were tracing his own lips. John felt something in his gut release one thousand fluttering butterflies. Sherlock face frowned as he said that it was wrong of him to kiss John, while he was under the influence of morphine, how he should have pulled away, or at least gotten out of the bed when John had fallen asleep. He looked remorseful, genuinely guilty, as he apologized for taking advantage of John but that he was just too swept up in the feel of John.

Sherlock stopped talking and just stared intently at his feet. John was in shock, this was everything he had hoped for, all he had wanted since he had first agreed to move in with his mysterious flat mate.

"I'll understand, John, if you do not reciprocate my sentiments. It's entirely possible your fantasies have little to do with me as a person but more to do with-"

His sentence was cut short by the force of John's lips against his own. Sherlock's eyes went as wide as saucers and he was stricken still. John presses more quick light kisses on his lips, on both his cheeks, along his jaw line, and finally one at the center of the man's forehead. John pulled away slowly, a warm smile taking over his features. Sherlock looked as though he were going to weep and John worried that perhaps kissing him hadn't been the correct course of action. Just as he was about to apologize a large goofy grin took residence on the detective's face. John's heart fluttered and it was like he was 15 again. Faster than John could perceive, Sherlock pulled John in for a large hug, squeezing far too tight for comfort. He seemed so happy though that John despaired at the thought of telling him to end the hug. However as the embrace tightened and he feared the refracturing of his ribs and found that speaking up might be imperative for his health.

"Sherlock"

He managed to squeak out. Sherlock let go quickly and looked at John with large child like eyes. He seemed panicked, worried, and just a bit disappointed (possibly at himself). John gave a weak smile and patted Sherlock on the cheek.

"Just a bit too tight, love."

Sherlock gave a sheepish smile as a blush slowly rose to his cheeks.

"Sorry, guess I got a bit…carried away."

"Quite alright, let's just hold on the bear hugs until my ribs have fully healed, ok?"

"Ok"

They sat there for a while Just reveling in the fact that this was really happening, they were really together now. Well, maybe no one had said those words to officiate the matter, but they had told each other how they truly felt, how they'd been feeling. Everything seemed perfect, and even though John knew Sherlock would smack him if he ever said it aloud, he was sort of glad Moriarty had kidnapped him.

"John, I think it is vital that we get you out of this hospital as soon as possible. You're not safe here."

Sherlock added quickly, John just gave quick nod.

"Yes, I agree. Besides, this bed is far too small if you plan on curling up next to me every night."

Sherlock once again gave a deep blush and let out a quick huff of breath.

"Yes, well….hhgghmm, only if that ok with you of course."

"Oh, it's more that ok."

With that John pulled Sherlock in for another soft kiss on the lips. Sherlock just melted into it and slowly lowered them both so that they were lying on the pillow facing each other. The kisses remained very soft as clearly Sherlock was now concerned about hurting the doctor. John leaned in closer to Sherlock and did his best to try and ignore the growing feeling that a pair of far too familiar eyes were watching him…and waiting.

Ooooooh! I know something you don't know!

p.s. ack! I have just become aware that the websites I was posting are not working (I'm a fucking genius I know). So if you want to fallow me on tumblr my url is carpesherlock, I did post that fan art a while ago but you could probably find it in my archive…if you're interested anyway. Also the Peter Pan story is called "The Boy" it's a romance/adventure, it's pretty graphic in a violence sort of way so be warned.