Exploring Sexulaity
A/N: School is really starting to pick up this coming week, but this update is on time, and I hope to keep future ones on time as well. Thanks for all the support! I'm sort of unsure as to what I want to do with the plot again, and I don't particularly have an ending in mind just yet.
Ch. 14
Sherlock hesitated, looking at John. "Would you be terribly upset if I answered that?" he asked.
"Are you asking me if I'm jealous of Irene?" John asked, raising an eyebrow. Of course Sherlock wouldn't be surprised Irene wasn't in witness protection in America. Or dead.
"Are you?"
"Would you not answer her if I said yes?"
Sherlock smiled a little and winked at John like when they first met, digging his mobile out of his pocket. "'Heard you got yourself in a bit of trouble. Want to have dinner?'"
"No," John said immediately, then felt his cheeks flush. "No, I'm not jealous, that is," he tried to play it off.
Sherlock actually laughed. Just a little, but it was definitely a laugh. "That was probably the worst constructed lie you have ever told me. Scratch that, anyone," he replied with a chuckle as he started typing. "'Yes, I'd love to. With John. Maybe tomorrow.'"
John smiled a little and felt a bit of his jealousy subside. But Irene's reply was almost immediate. "'Good for you two. Finally,'" Sherlock read. Another text alert. "'Mind if I join?'" A third. "'Though I'm su-'" he stopped himself, and John looked up at him from the diminished supply of pretzels in their bowl.
"What?" he asked curiously, raising an eyebrow again.
"Nothing," Sherlock replied quickly, thumbing out a reply. "'Thank you. No. Yes.'" He put his mobile back in his pocket.
"I want to know," John said indignantly.
Sherlock stuffed two pretzels in his mouth and drank most of his water so that he wouldn't have to reply. "Too bad," he said eventually.
John fixed a stubborn look on Sherlock in the dimness. "What did she say?" he asked again.
"I'm not repeating it."
John sighed, rolling his eyes. "Then let me read it."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because."
John scoffed and nudged Sherlock again. "You can't use that as an answer for how much you rebuff it," he teased.
"Because I don't want to," Sherlock amended stubbornly, eating another pretzel and resting his head against John's lazily.
John sighed, giving up. "How's your head?" he asked softly. The detective had taken four Advils in the past five hours, so he should be alright.
"Slow," Sherlock replied, scrunching his nose in distaste. "But my headace has subsided, yes," he confirmed John's assumptions.
"That's good, at least," John said. He estimated it would take around 48 hours at least for Sherlock to start feeling normal again.
They sat in the club's "silence" again for a little while, content enough to just know the other was alive and well. Until Sherlock got bored. Or curious. They were almost the same thing for him, anyway. "Why are you jealous of Irene?" he asked, still leaning against John.
John didn't even think about it before he answered. "She kissed you first."
Sherlock looked up at John at that, looking at him curiously. "My cheek. Besides, it's not like she was my first kiss." Ugh, tedious, romantic. Descriptive. Not what John was referring to? It didn't seem so.
John sighed, thinking of how he could reword it so that Sherlock would understand. "She came into our lives, and she was just so bold. Sure, she used you, but you cared about her, and I could see it. And then she kissed you, and it was like a spark went off in your head," he tried to explain. "And I couldn't do that."
Sherlock nodded and processed that, working out John's emotions. "John?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah?"
"You were speaking in the past tense. Did you… Were you jealous of Irene then, too? Before we stared dating?"
"Dating." It sounded so young and childish, even more so coming from Sherlock somehow. "I was jealous then, too, yes," John agreed after a little while. "But I had yet to realize it was because I loved you."
Sherlock smiled, resting his head back against John's. Say it again he tapped in Morse Code against John's thigh, while out loud he said, "Consciously, anyways."
"Yes," John agreed, tapping out I love you on the small of Sherlock's back, where his hand rested.
Aloud.
Now it was John's turn to smile. "I love you," he repeated. He couldn't see it at this angle, with Sherlock snuggled against him, but he could tell the detective was smiling.
Sherlock didn't repeat the sentiment.
John didn't need him to.
Sherlock's phone beeped again. An actual beep, so not Irene. "If I don't look at it, I can't know it's one of them, and therefore don't have to respond," he tried, making John roll his eyes.
"Just tell them you're alight. Then you don't have to respond again," he repeated from earlier.
"Until we get back to the flat," Sherlock finished in a grumble, fishing his mobile back out of his pocket. "'Are you two alright? I couldn't get an answer on John's mobile.'" Sherlock read, sighing dramatically at the concern.
"Lestrade, then," John assumed. Mycroft would have just gone straight to his brother first.
"Obviously," Sherlock replied, typing out a response and putting his phone back in his pocket like he never wished to see it again. Then he shifted and moved so that he was laying down in John's lap, eyes shut as he stifled a yawn. "Thank you."
John didn't ask what he was being thanked for. He could deduce that well enough anyway, and even if he couldn't, it only came out of Sherlock's mouth so often. "You're welcome." He ran his fingers through Sherlock's curls soothingly, watching the other man. He still was so out of sorts, so young and vulnerable looking,
Surprisingly, he jumped when his mobile pinged again a moment later. "Give it to me," John suggested quietly.
Wordlessly, Sherlock gave his mobile to John.
Did he talk you down? Are you two at Clueless now? D.I. Lestrade
Sherlock groaned in disapproval as John started to reply. "You sleep, I'll reassure Greg," he said softly, knowing Sherlock was trying to fight the sleep that wanted to overcome him. He had already slept so much, he'd be hating his "body's weakness." "It's alright, love."
Sherlock smiled a little, nodding and relaxing in John's lap. He almost didn't fit on the bed, tall git.
Three plus hours. We are, but if you come over, he might murder you. JW
John played with the settings and turned Sherlock's mobile on silent so it wouldn't startle him again. He turned down the screen's brightness, too. Sherlock was asleep by the time Lestrade responded again.
Can't have that. Something wrong with /your/ mobile? D.I. Lestrade
Sherlock. He doesn't want to talk to you or Mycroft. Or anyone. I told him I'd turn mine off if he told you he was alright when you asked. JW
Ahhh. Is he still interested in the case, because we need him. D.I. Lestrade
He's taking a day off, but he's still interested. Trust me. JW
I believe it. I'll see you two when he's up and running then, yeah? D.I. Lestrade
Yep. JW
Thanks, mate. D.I. Lestrade
Could you do me a favor, though? JW
Absolutely. What is it? D.I. Lestrade
Don't talk to him about what happened yesterday? JW
A longer pause than usual before Greg responded.
Sure. D.I. Lestrade
Thanks. He'll appreciate it. JW
Another pause.
I know. Don't let him brood too much, keep him occupied. It'll help. D.I. Lestrade
Thanks. JW
John had talked very little with Lestrade (and Mycroft) about Sherlock's past, but he knew Greg would know enough to be helpful, at least in Sherlock's case.
John set Sherlock's mobile on the bed next to them and carded his fingers through the man's hair. He still knew practically nothing about the case, but apparently arresting whoever was in the house yesterday didn't solve it. Tomorrow was Friday, and technically he had work, but he could see if it was possible for him to take another day. He wasn't too keen on leaving Sherlock yet. Practically ever.
Sherlock startled awake, upsetting the four pretzels left in the bowl beside him. Wide eyes found John's and John pressed a kiss to Sherlock's forehead.
"It's alright; it was just a dream," John assured quietly.
"I'm not five," Sherlock complained, but he was glad for John's soft words. He sat up again and rubbed at his eyes, though he was tense. He finished his water, then looked at John. "I want to go home."
John smiled a tiny bit. "We can manage that," he agreed, getting up and holding a hand out to Sherlock, empty glass in his other. Sherlock picked his mobile up off the bed and took the offered hand, squeezing it tight, as if John may disappear. He carried his glass and the almost empty bowl of pretzels with him. They turned the lights off in the room and John let Sherlock lead him back upstairs. John reached into his back pocket to pay when Justin took their glasses, but the other man shook his head, waving a full hand casually to brush it off.
"We don't charge for this; it's fine," he assured with a warm smile. "Don't worry about it; we've been doing it for years."
John hesitated, then nodded, smiling back. "Well, thank you, then. It was nice meeting you and Drew."
Justin looked over to where Drew was serving drinks to the slowly accumulating crowd and smiled before looking back to Sherlock and John. "It was a pleasure to meet you as well, John. We'd love to see you two again, if you ever get bored," he said with a wink in Sherlock's direction.
Sherlock had the decency to use a real smile. "You're at the top of my list, should we need a place to go," he replied, squeezing John's hand again.
Justin put their glasses in a bin and kissed Sherlock's cheek, then John's, to which John blushed. Justin found that amusing, but said nothing on it. "Take care until then," he said, and the underlying meaning was heard by both men: Stay clean.
"We will. Say goodbye to Drew for me," Sherlock said, kissing Justin's cheek in return.
"Me as well," John seconded, telling himself it was just a farewell. They did it in Italy all the time.
"Will do," Justin agreed, smiling brightly. "See ya!"
"Goodbye," Sherlock and John said in unison before heading out.
"Don't be jealous of Justin too; that's just how he is," Sherlock teased slightly, hailing a cab. "He would have done it when he answered the door, but you offered your hand instead."
John breathed in and out slowly, letting that settle in reasonably in his head and letting his jealousy subside. They slid into the cap easily, hands not breaking apart. "Is that what he found so amusing?" he asked as Sherlock gave the cabby their address.
"Yes," Sherlock replied with a grin, squeezing John's hand yet again. His mind was still moving slow, his body protesting almost every movement, wanting to go back to sleep or take another hit. "Tell me."
John looked to Sherlock, brow furrowing. He had gotten fairly good at knowing when Sherlock needed reassurance, to hear something, to know. "Tell you what?" he asked, trying to asses Sherlock's body language.
"Anything. Just talk to me."
And John understood. So he did.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Reviews and criticism is always welcome; thanks again for all the reviews/ follows/ favorites already!