The Present: August, 2015

In the previous years Stanley proved to be a good student but he also made moves on Sherlock which weren't reciprocated by the latter for the simple reason that he didn't understand what was going on.

Our apartment was a cozy little place. My room was opposite to Sherlock's on the second floor. The first floor was accommodated by Mrs. Hudson and the ground floor was to park cars, which nobody had.

Sherlock was sitting on the sofa with his tea in his hand which wasn't to be drunk until he had made up his mind on whatever he was thinking about.

"Sherlock, I'm going to get us groceries. Will be back in an hour or so."

"Can I come?"

I couldn't believe my ears.

"What did you say? Wasn't all this a waste of your time and energies and what not?"

"Yeah, so I'm coming."

Shaking my head on my own stupidity of expecting an answer, we walked out of the apartment.

"Why did you hit him!" said I, as angry as I could be.

"I thought he was going to steal our groceries." said a thoroughly dejected Sherlock.

"Who would want to steal groceries?"

"I have."

I stared at him for sometime and finally regaining the power of speech, I said, "What?"

"Oh, it was when I was someone else." replied a smiling Sherlock.

"You mean an alias?"

"Quite so."

And so Sherlock returned to his case and I, at arranging the groceries.

The Sports Tee

Sherlock was a man who always wore shirts. He always hid his spectacular body (which I thought he had, given his strength) under layers of clothes. I had bought him a number of t-shirts and yet he chose to wear his boring shirts. Last Christmas, I bought him sweatpants and a sports tee but he didn't wear them either, so I finally gave up. As for me, I liked to be in casuals.

Sherlock had this baffling case at hand and he had requested me to come. It was almost nine in the morning and I was completely dressed but, and for the first time ever, Sherlock was late.

"Sherlock! What's taking you so long?" shouted I from the living room.

"If you were already dressed doesn't mean that everybody else was." I smiled at his observation.

After about ten minutes, he came out and I was totally mesmerized.

He was wearing the grey sports tee that I had got him, black jeans and brown sneakers. His biceps were visible to me for the first time- which were just OH MY GOD, his pectorals were almost tearing the tee. To easily paint a picture of him for you guys - he looked like Chris Evans from Age of Ultron whilst chopping wood.

"You're so not going to wear that," said I.

"But I guess, I will." said he walking out of the door.

"But Stanley would be there and-"

It was no use as he was already downstairs and I heard the main door close. I followed him hurriedly. He already had a taxi ready and was getting in when I came down. I couldn't take my eyes off him while he was engrossed in his case.

"Why did you wear it?" asked I.

"Why did you buy it for me? To wear, right?"

"But, you- you-"

"What?" asked he and looked straight into my eyes. This was the first time I realized that I had feelings for him. I hastily looked away, thanking the weather that at least he had his black jacket on. We were soon at the crime scene. I knew nothing of the case except that it was baffling.

Hopkins and a few others were already there. The room was too hot and Sherlock was already out of his jacket and much to my disappointment Stanley saw him and uttered hot, to which Sherlock replied, "Yes, it's so hot in here. Somebody please go and check the thermostat."

I snickered a bit but was crying inside.

I turned my attention to the crime scene, might as well do some work. In a minute I realized there was no body. "Where's the body?" announced I, not really expecting any answer from anyone. "Trust- no- you- I know-" began Sherlock and Stanley together.

"What?" said I, not able to catch much other than the aforementioned words. Sherlock glanced towards Stanley clearly stating shut the fuck up. "Trust me, John, you wouldn't want to see it. Everyone either fainted or puked after looking at it, except me of course." said Sherlock, immersed in his investigation which involved bending in weird positions to which Stanley kept staring and it further annoyed me. Not even thinking about it, I said, which I thoroughly regret, "I want to see it, well, um while describing the case we need a body, right?"

It was after two hours of a lot of investigation and thinking, some flirting and rejection that we left the premises for the morgue and Sherlock seemed excited. "Are you happy to see the body again or you picked up any leads?" asked I, adjusting myself in the uncomfortable seats of the cab, to which I got the reply, "Both!"

I was very annoyed at Stanley, who didn't miss a chance to flirt and touch Sherlock. "Why do you work with that Stanley?" asked I, after an awkward silence, well maybe only awkward for me.

Sherlock, who was a bit surprised by my question, said "He brings me cases which are peculiar. Why?"

"It's nothing." said I and for the rest of the ride stared out of the window. Sherlock looked at me for awhile and then got back to thinking about the case.

I handed over the file to the diener but she didn't even notice it as she recognized Sherlock. Letting out a sigh, I followed Sherlock. He seemed to perfectly remember where the body was kept and opened it himself. I lifted the sheet off of it's face and understood what the other people went through. My hand just froze somewhere over it. Not that I hadn't seen ghastly wounds but this was, just a ghastly face. It was a woman, in her late twenties or so, eyes still open. The horror was in her neck. It was unusually long and halfway through, it suddenly bent a good forty-five degrees. Her face also had the most wretched expression as if some inhumanly power caused her end.

"Interesting. Have you frozen in shock or you really don't mind it's appearance?" muttered Sherlock while trying to bend her neck.

As he said it, I dropped the sheet and took to the nearby chair. I tried not to think about it and drew in huge breaths to calm myself down. There goes tonight's sleep. He quickly covered it and threw it back in it's place. He looked at me for sometime with that analyzing look of his. "I'm fine. Just- let's just go" said I, trying to stabilise my shaking legs. He nodded and we both went out.

When we reached the apartment, I went straight into my room and slammed the door behind me. I only came out for dinner and didn't even bother to look where Sherlock was. At midnight, I heard our front door close and therefore came out to see who it was. It was Sherlock, in the grey tee. As soon as I saw him I went back and closed the door. Later that night, I heard him knock on my door but I pretended to be asleep. I felt Sherlock shaking me and shouting to wake up and I suddenly opened my eyes. He said that he needs my help as another murder had taken place, of the similar kind as today's. I argued that I already felt weak in my spirits and body so I couldn't be of much use but he pressed on. Finally, I got up and got dressed. We hurriedly left the apartment and I took my gun with me. On arriving at the scene somebody said that the body was gone and they couldn't find it anywhere in the near abouts, Sherlock muttered something about incompetent allies and made his way to the crime scene. Whereas I was still frozen in my place, not by the news of the missing body but by hearing my name in a street which was almost empty. I tried to move but couldn't as if something was gripping my legs, I shouted for Sherlock but soon the darkness enveloped me and I could hear someone say my name clearly as if from just behind me. I slowly turned and found a woman staring at me with that bent neck. I tried to shout for Sherlock one last time, before I began to give in to unconsciousness, I could hear footsteps and shouting in the background but was too cataleptic to respond.

And then I woke up with a start.

The next morning, almost at eight, I saw him on the sofa with his head tilted back and hands in the middle of his legs which were outstretched in front of him. Eyes closed and breathing softly. I saw his phone, it had Stanley's unopened Thank you message, which told me that the case at hand was solved and which also explained Sherlock's current state.

I went near him, careful not to make any sound. He was still in his yesterday's clothes which aroused unknown desires in me. Well, unknown only with respect to him. I knew he had dated no one, which was because he thought it was not essential. It's even a puzzle to understand how he knew that he was gay. I went and sat next to him. Even this did not wake him up which meant I was free to do anything.

My hands were soon in his hair and slowly slid to his neck. His body relaxed and his face was in my direction now. He looked so innocent, it was hard not to kiss him. He moved his hands and I withdrew mine. He slowly opened his eyes and said, "What are you doing?"

I had no answer, so I stood up and turned to go but his voice stopped me. "John," the firmness in his voice was enough to stop millions of John. I turned to face him and to respond with a lie, "I was looking at you. I rarely see you sleeping." said I with a smile.

"Oh," and after a long pause he said, "Want to know about the bent woman's case?"

"Nope. Thank you very much but I choose my sanity."

He smiled and said, "I heard you shouting in your sleep. Nightmare?" I seated myself in my chair and nodded. He handed me a cup of tea. I looked at him with surprise but took the cup anyway. It was too cold as if from yesterday "I made it for you last night."

I smiled at him but quickly placed the cup aside.

"Also why did you put your hands in my hair and neck?" asked he with an expression of a very confused man.

"I thought I saw an insect." said I, again lying.

"Oh. Thank you." The rest of the day I felt like a criminal and was avoiding Sherlock at all costs.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" asked he, at eleven in the night. Maybe he wasn't able to sleep.

"Sure." said I.

After all the avoiding I had missed him.

He had popcorn in his hands which were only his, according to him, because they were in his hands. I told him that it was stupid logic to which he said stupid or not, it was logic. It was a horror movie with pieces of comedy here and there.

Sherlock seemed unaffected by either the horror or the comedy whereas I was the exact opposite. By the time the movie ended I was almost on Sherlock. He didn't say anything but cautiously moved the popcorn away from me.

"Didn't you like the movie?" asked Sherlock as he switched off the T.V.

"No, it was pretty good."

"Then why did you close your eyes every now and then?" asked he, turning towards me.

"Well, I was scared." said I, smiling.

"Oh. Also-"

"Yeah?"

"Please move from my left leg. I kinda cannot feel it."

"I'm sorry." said I, nervously laughing.

I got up to go to my bedroom but Sherlock sat where he was.

"Aren't you going to sleep?" said I, with unnecessary softness in my voice for which I mentally kicked myself.

"I don't know." said he looking up to me.

Nowadays, it was hard for me to look away when he was looking at me and his words seemed like melted chocolate.

"Well, let me stay up with you. I always wondered what you did when most people slept."

Ignoring the sarcasm in my voice, he said "At your own risk."

The whole night was very boring. Sherlock used the night to think in the very position I found him in the morning. Sometimes I thought he fell asleep but obviously he hadn't.

Turns out he knew me better than I did myself, given how immersed I was, in both him and my work.