I held in a deep breath when Sherlock put his hand on my chest to stop me from going to the door. I looked up at him helplessly and very confused. What's so bad about Jim Moriarty? I heard Sherlock mention him once about how he's in two of his afternoon classes. I think he said he's in his Math and Chemistry classes. That must mean they're both bloody brilliant.
"I'm disappointed in you, Sherly." He hummed from the other side of the door. "I thought you cared for me, like I do for you." Sherlock looked shell-shocked. He bounded to the door and retched it open swiftly.
"You know your emotions were ALWAYS one-sided, James," Sherlock sneered. "And remember what I said. Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the loosing side." I looked on, dumbfounded. I know Sherlock skipped a grade and was in his second year at Uni, while I was at my first (even though we're the same age), but what had Sherlock's University life been like before I came around? Lonely maybe?
Unless Jim was always around when Sherlock's other roommate moved out. Something inside me boiled with green, envious, bile and I tensed up a bit. Moriarty looked over at me and smirked, then back to Sherlock.
"I see you've found a little pet. I should get myself a live-in one. That would be so funny." Moriarty pondered cheerfully to himself. Sherlock looked like he was about to hit or kiss Moriarty.
"John has nothing to do with this. Leave him out of our business, and don't interfere with our lives. It'd be wise of you to stay away from John Hamish Watson." He commented venomously. I blinked and realized what emotion Sherlock is portraying. Protectiveness. It was endearing and it just made me want you hug him tightly and let him protect me. Though, I have no need for protecting.
Moriarty made a move to come inside and Sherlock blocked him, looking particularly disgusted.
"I was in a perfectly good mood, then you came along. I had an…" Sherlock glanced at me "Experiment in place. I was doing something. Now get out, before I make you." Sherlock seemed almost predatory now, ready to kill the prey in front of him, like a lion stalking a great elk.
"Fine, then. But don't think I won't text you. Sorry….wrong day to chat, I guess." Moriarty began walking down the hallway and Sherlock stayed quiet.
"Catch…you….later…" He murmured until finally slamming the door closed and locking it. He turned to face me, his back now against the door.
"Sherlock, what was all that about?" did they date? I, once again, felt a little jealous that Moriarty had Sherlock before me, and Sherlock had someone other than me to have as a companion. Moriarty was older in years, but took our English class. I sighed.
"We….were together in some form of the word." Sherlock said finally. Of course. On the inside I started tearing up the room and screaming, then set off to kill Jim Moriarty, but on the outside I just stood there.
"So…you…dated?" I drawled out innocently. I needed to know. I want Sherlock to be mine.
"Not…really." Sherlock looked almost unsure of himself. "He cared for me in a more intimate way than I cared for him, and I wouldn't particularly care when he'd try and kiss me, or when he'd hug me or call me brilliant. We never actually kissed on the lips, he just would kiss my…face and hold my hand when we walked. We could be a couple, but I didn't care for him in that way. Then one day, I saw him hanging around with those rugby players, telling rumors and secrets about me that I trusted him with. My social status dramatically hit 'rock bottom' and we never talked again. He would hit me and abuse me though, so I wouldn't call him loving. We are intellectual equals. That was the only reason I'd stay around him. Nothing serious, John, no need to be jealous of Moriarty." Sherlock smirked at the end when he saw my face turn red.
He is infuriatingly observant.
"I am NOT jealous, Sherlock, we're not even together. Besides, he never kissed you on the lips, and I have. Twice, actually. So even if we were to be together, I'm already milestones away from him. Also, on top of that, you and I would be dating while he just looked on, wishing he could have what I have." I shrugged, then blushed. "I mean, what I WOULD have…if we were in that situation. I'm not saying I have you NOW, I'm just saying…if that…were true…." I finished lamely.
My shoulders sagged. How can I live with this man? He laughed and ruffled my hair as he walked by. I glared at his back for a moment before beginning to unpack. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Sherlock had dramatically dropped his old microscope into the rubbish and placed his new one from me where it had been, smiling to himself fondly at the gift. My mood brightened and unpacked with a faint smile on.
"John…if we were dating, hypothetically, I mean, would you be unhappy in the relationship?" Sherlock asked suddenly. I spun around and looked at him.
"Why?" I questioned quickly. He sighed in frustration and walked over, closer to me.
"Do not answer my question with a question. Would you be happy?" Sherlock asked again, this time, more demanding.
"Yes, of course. I mean if I were to, hypothetically of course, ask you out, I would've put thought into doing so beforehand and I'd be sure of my decision to begin a relationship with you. I'd say 'Screw what others have to say, and let's just be together' because I know if I wanted to and never did, I'd be upset with myself that I could had something great." I blushed then added "Hypothetically, of course."
He nodded slowly, his eyes locked with mine. "Hypothetically" he replied evenly. We gazed into each otther's eyes for a couple more seconds before he finally broke the silence. "What if you really loved a person, and you want to take it farther in the relationship, but you don't want to ruin the friendship you have?" He inquired nervously. My heart pumped a tick faster and my lips parted a bit.
"You could try anyways." I paused, taking a deep breath. "Maybe they'll say yes…"
"Are we still speaking hypothetically?" He interjected quietly.
"Are we?" I questioned back. I could practically feel the sexual tension in the air. Whether it was mine, or Sherlock's I couldn't tell.
"Do you want to be?"
I blinked and thought for a moment. Is he asking me out? Is THE Sherlock Holmes asking if I want to be romantically involved? Wake up every morning, possibly cuddled up with the most absurd man I've ever met? Do I honestly want to be able to kiss him all the time, tell him how much I love and need him, and possibly spend every second of my time with him? Go every where with him? Possibly participate in sexual intercourse with the pale angel? Have a warrant to touch him? Protect him from the world? Face the world together?
Can I deal with being romantically involved with him? Do I want to take him out on dates? Hold his hand and show him off in public? Be the only one to actually be with him?
Do I want this?
Do I want him?
Everyone already believes we're together, and I mean, why not date Sherlock? We can do everything and anything together. I'll be the one that got him. I'll be the only exception to his detachment from sentiment and overall emotions in general.
I'll be the one dating Sherlock Holmes.
But what if he says no? What if he really is speaking hypothetically? Or worse, he knows my feelings and the whole time, he's been kissing me, and being around me purely for my own enjoyment and so he wouldn't lose his best friend? What if this is all an experiment? What if this is just a game to him?
What would become of us?
I'd be risking everything. I thought more, and began leaning to the 'Don't date him' way until I looked into the pale blue eyes. I saw a future there. I saw his raw emotion. I saw…everything.
So…here I am. With the biggest question of all.
"Sherlock Holmes, do you want to go out…with me…?"