Chapter Four – A Little Closer
John didn't speak to him the next day. Sherlock hadn't been to bed. He may have dozed for a couple of hours, but refreshed, he had begun working on the case files Lestrade had given him, contemplating the different poisons that would have caused the blotching around the victim's mouth.
His attention was diverted more than he would have liked when he heard John rise, shower, dress, and come into the kitchen to start tea and breakfast. John didn't say anything and Sherlock stayed bent over his microscope at the kitchen table, attempting to stay engrossed in his research. After awhile, John left the kitchen and Sherlock heard him as he packed up his laptop for the day and headed out.
When the door closed, Sherlock finally stopped pretending to be working and looked to his right, smiling a little. John had left him a cup of tea and a plate of toast. Maybe things would be fine.
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When John came home that evening after a very long day at the clinic, he went straight to his room. Sherlock couldn't bring himself to pretend to work. He had actually solved one of the cases that Lestrade had given him, the one about the poison, but he wasn't really interested in the others right then. He just sat on the couch, knees drawn up to his chest, watching telly. He wasn't interested in that, either, but the noise was a distraction from listening to John moving around in his room. He was tired of analysing his friend. Honestly, he was bored, and if something didn't change he was going to start shooting.
When John came out of his room, sooner than Sherlock expected him to, the strain was clear on his face. Instead of going to the kitchen, or to his chair, however, he headed directly to the couch, forcefully pulled Sherlock's feet down to the floor, and planted himself right next to the other man.
"There's the whole couch left," Sherlock glared at him, not wanting to ask what he was doing.
"And I thought you said you loved me," John groused back, grabbing Sherlock's arm and putting it around his own shoulders before leaning over and,with his head on the taller man's shoulder, wrapped his arms around his middle.
"True, but to what do I owe this honour? Seeing as we have yet to deal with that?"
"I need to be held."
"You're confusing me."
"Good, you deserve it."
They were quiet for awhile, Sherlock slowly relaxing. Finally, he wrapped his other arm around John's shoulders as well and leaned his head onto his. He inhaled and sighed.
"I suppose I should say something."
"It would go a long way to helping me deal with what's happening right now."
"I've never wanted to be attracted to men."
"Are you?"
"Sometimes. You? Definitely. Always. Damn it. I know I feel very strongly for you, I just haven't let myself think about it too closely and the past couple of days have just been too traumatic to deal with it."
"Then don't," Sherlock whispered, squeezing him closer. "I'll be around here somewhere when you're ready. And I'll deal with whatever you figure out."
"I hope so. But I think this has brought us a little closer, don't you?"
"Yes," Sherlock smirked. "Do you think snogging would bring us even closer?"
"We are clearly not in the same place. So, no. What are we watching?"
"Crap."
TBC
A/N: Finished this chapter in a hurry and posted! So, hope it makes sense. Thanks to everyone following this story!
