It had been two days since the danger night incident and things had returned to normal. Relatively speaking of course. But something was still nagging Sherlock's mind. 'I'm just…well, look at me. He'd said, gesturing to himself vaguely.' The memory was accurate down to the last detail, of course. But it still felt surreal. John can't really think like that, can he? The thought unsettled him.
Sherlock had planned on catching a few hours sleep on the couch, but he abandoned the idea in favor of his favourite night time activity. He soundlessly climbed the stairs and slipped into John's room. The first few times he'd done this, it had felt wrong, like an invasion of privacy, though he'd been too curious to stifle the impulse. He'd moved past such feelings by this point though. It was reassuring and soothing to see for himself that John was safe and relaxed. Besides, it wasn't as if John would ever know.
He crouched down next to John's head, wanting to observe him more closely. He supposed objectively speaking, John was not extraordinary looking. His face was lined. His blonde hair turning just the tiniest bit gray near the temples. He was short, stocky. Sherlock didn't just look though, no, he was a man who really saw.
What he saw when he looked at the lines on John's face was the joys and sorrows of a man unafraid to live life to its fullest. A man accustomed to the great triumphs and tragedies of life. He was a doctor, a soldier. A man of action, not some dullard with a nine-to-five job who'd never ventured beyond his front yard. He had lines of hardship streaked across his forehead. Lines of laughter around his eyes. Sherlock loved every line and wrinkle.
When he looked at the gray, he saw John's humanity. The way he cared so much. He worried; about his soldiers, his patients, his friends and family. About Sherlock. It was this singular quality that won over most of Sherlock's clients who were too put off by his own harsher nature. The grey hair spoke volumes toward John's deeply compassionate nature. Sherlock admired every follicle.
To Sherlock, short and stocky meant sturdy. Dependable in a fight. Solid in the face of any sudden change. Lower center of gravity meant a distinct advantage against a taller opponent. It was also a physical representation of John's inner nature. Unobtrusive until forced into action. Criminals make a fatal error in underestimating him. The best part though, was he was a perfect height to rest his head upon when they embraced. Sherlock enjoyed John's build immensely.
In short, John was more than merely handsome, he was beautifully crafted perfection. He wondered how he could ever express these feelings to John. He knew most people would express these things verbally, but comfortable with emotions as he'd become over the past few months, it all still seemed too sentimental. There was physically, but the door was still firmly shut on that one. So what did that leave? He wished he could ask John.
He swept out of John's room as silently as he had entered it in search of his violin. When he found in the living room beneath the pile of papers from their last case, he immediately began to play meditatively. He went on for a while like that, playing on auto-pilot as he attempted to riddle out this new puzzle.
His thought process was interrupted though by a sound of distress coming from John's room; a nightmare was beginning. He cut his song off immediately and switched to a lullaby John had once remarked on as his favourite. The sounds of thrashing immediately died done and a smile appeared on Sherlock's face. He knew now how to tell John. He would compose a song, just for John, and then he would understand. He would pour his heart and soul into it, and then he would give it to John. Perfect. I really am astoundingly clever sometimes, he preened.
A/N One of these days I ought to get over my deep seated hate of math and figure out just how many months this fic has spanned so far….
The song will crop up again later in the story, though I don't think for a little while yet. I have plans for that particular chapter ;)
(that sounded like I was implying smut, didn't it? I promise you guys this one thing, I will never write smut. Never. I read it, but that's as far as it goes for me…I'm blushing just thinking about it!)
Next chapter: In hospital! Gasp!