000
John awoke in Sherlock's empty bed. This was happening a lot lately. For the last two weeks he would go to sleep, somewhere, in the flat and always wake up in Sherlock's room on his own. He used to sleep walk during his army career, but this was getting slightly embarrassing.
John was not keen on mentioning it and Sherlock was not forthcoming with the missing information, meaning the pair never discussed it.
John decided, this particular day, he would pretend to sleep and see what exactly what his midnight wanderings were really about.
The plan had worked, except; Sherlock had gone out. John had been lying in an armchair for the last hour, pretending to be asleep – so convincingly so, that he almost did nod off.
Eventually, he heard the front door, heard the heavy steps and heard the sigh as the detective entered the living room. He then felt his flatmates' arms underneath him, lifting him easily from the armchair.
John tried not to breathe as his friend carried him towards his own room, placing him delicately on the mattress and wrapping him in the duvet.
Sherlock himself, undressed and climbed in the other side of the bed. There was no physical contact, but John felt Sherlock's stare burning into his face, he decided to open his eyes.
"Good Evening" Sherlock said unperturbed.
"Hi" John returned.
The pair stayed quiet as they looked intensely at each other.
"Why do you bring me in here?" John finally asked in a whisper.
"Are you uncomfortable with it?" Sherlock asked with a sudden furrowed brow.
"No" John said hastily, possibly a little too hastily.
"Good" Sherlock said looking away for a brief second. "Good night then" he said promptly closing his eyes.
000
She was alive.
A thought that both men had at the same time.
After weeks of Sherlock playing sad music, not eating, and taking John to bed every night, she was actually alive. John wanted to hurt her; hence, he kept his distance.
"We're not a couple" John said angrily, wishing they were with every fibre of his being, so that he could tell her to shove off.
"Yes you are" Irene said back without looking at the doctor. John's heart leapt, she was just as clever as Sherlock was; had she spotted something that he hadn't? Were they really a couple? Sherlock was odd enough that he wouldn't tell him if this new bedtime routine meant they were dating. He shook it off, there was a love triangle at work here and he didn't like it.
They all heard the female gasp of Sherlock's phone. The three momentarily freezing to their spots on the cold concrete floor. Sherlock was there, he had heard it all. John's heart fell inside his chest. He started to walk towards where he had heard the noise; Irene threw a hand up to stop him;
"I don't think so, do you?" she asked, fear obvious in her voice. John batted her hand away as he walked past her;
"I don't care what you think" he said bitterly as he ran after Sherlock.
John was running after the flick of Sherlock's coat, he only saw it disappear around corners and eventually he caught up with the consulting detective standing beside the black car that had brought John there.
"Sherlock, come here, get in this car" John said sternly gasping a little for breath from the run, he glanced back up at the disused building and ushered the silent detective into the car's back seat.
John clambered in after him and instructed the driver to take them to Baker Street.
"You think that she was telling the truth" Sherlock stated absentmindedly.
"About what?" John asked cautiously, his hands firmly planted on his thighs.
"About us being a couple" Sherlock said harshly.
John coughed awkwardly and looked down at his hands. "She's alive" John said changing the subject. "How are we feeling about that?"
"I started taking you to my room because from there I can keep an eye on you." Sherlock stated obviously.
"Why do you need to keep an eye on me?" John asked in his smallest voice.
It was Sherlock's turn to cough awkwardly and pulled his scarf tighter around his neck.
"I saw the hurt on your face after I had insinuated that I shouldn't care for you." Sherlock said quietly. "When really, I do, I care for our landlady, and I care for you. Even though I shouldn't, it is a weakness. Caring. Enemies can use the bond to achieve utter devastation. I had started to care for Ms Adler, and then she was gone, dead. I couldn't let that happen to you." Sherlock said sadly.
"So, by keeping me close at night, you are keeping it from enemies that you do care." John finished with a look of confusion. "You are weird" he said finally.
Sherlock looked at John with pride.
"I'm sorry, John, I do not understand emotions as you know. I didn't know how else to do it. You are not offended?" Sherlock said awkwardly.
"No, no not offended. I'm glad." John said happily.
Sherlock fixed him with a puzzled look.
"This means you are not in love with Irene?" The question was out and in the air before John could swallow them.
Sherlock looked disgusted at the insinuation. "Attracted, but not in love" He said finally.
John looked down at his knees once more. Thankfully it didn't look like Sherlock had caught the underlying idea of that question and he made a conscious effort to keep quiet from then on. But it looked like this bedtime buddy thing was really just; bedtime buddies. Just the next chapter in John and Sherlock's close friendship, not a relationship in the modern sense of the word, no, Sherlock was attracted to Irene Adler, not him.
They arrived back at Baker Street and the two men entered the building. John was about to bound up the stairs when Sherlock grabbed his arm, indicating with his index finger to be quiet. Sherlock had noticed the scratches on the door beside the lock, the abandoned bucket on the hall carpet, and the finger nail marks up the wall.
Mrs Hudson.
"Stay here John." Sherlock whispered, his lips ghosting over John's ear and sending shivers down the soldier's back.
John watched Sherlock tuck the cleaning aerosol up his coat sleeve and quietly pick the stairs that didn't creek. John was reminded of a cat's movements as he watched his flatmate make the ascent from his position at the foot of the stairs. He heard some muffled talking; he watched two of the American men walk down the stairs and leave via the front door before he heard a loud thud.
"John" Sherlock called. John bounded up the stairs and saw the whole situation for what it was; a mess. "Help me gag this fool, the tape on the mantelpiece." Sherlock said sharply, all the while pinning the foreign body to the chair that had recently been occupied by Mrs Hudson. John did as he was told and tied the man up.
He then tended to their landlady, taking her to her own kitchen and applying some first aid.
John felt such a sense of pride as he saw the shadow of the man falling onto Mrs Hudson's bins and when Sherlock said England would fall if she weren't in Baker Street.
John's 'crush' on Sherlock was at its highest and he knew it wouldn't be long before Sherlock found out.
"Sherlock" John questioned, standing awkwardly in the corridor to their flat.
Sherlock turned around to John as he was taking his coat off.
"Can I go to bed?" John asked quietly, pointing to Sherlock's door.
The taller man smiled kindly and nodded curtly; "I will be in soon" he said quietly.
Once the pair were comfortably lying in the double bed, John turned to Sherlock.
"Where is the camera phone now?" He asked quietly.
"Somewhere no one will look" Sherlock said kindly, a small smile flashing his face.
They lay quiet for some minutes before bells could be heard.
"Happy new year, John" Sherlock said in the darkness.
John smiled as an idea came to him, he shuffled slightly on the mattress to be as close to Sherlock as was possible without touching him and briefly, oh so briefly, placed his lips gently on Sherlock's.
John broke the kiss as quickly as he had started it and wished he could see Sherlock's expression in the dark room.
"Happy new year, Sherlock" John replied before he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep surprisingly quickly.
0000
"So the password on her phone was "SHER"" John laughed.
"Yes, I AM SHER LOCKED, I am embarrassed I did not work it out sooner" Sherlock said from where he was lying on his bed.
"Well, you did have to leave it until last minute – you know, with your dramatics in all. Honestly, its' like you act for some sort of Detective TV show sometimes." John said playfully, glad that the case was over. "Wonder where she is now" John mused, staring at the ceiling above Sherlock's bed.
"Oh, I wouldn't be surprised if she really is dead by now" Sherlock replied.
"So you didn't, I dunno, go abroad and save her before she was about to get beheaded by some Eastern Civilisation?" John teased.
"Wouldn't you have noticed if I had gone abroad? You track my every movement" Sherlock said with a scoff. "Yes, it's a shame, but she really was on the wrong path." The consulting genius sighed heavily.
Just then Sherlock's phone emitted a female sigh and John looked from Sherlock to the phone in anger.
Sherlock looked at his phone briefly before holding it out to John;
Goodbye Mr Holmes
"I'm sorry Sherlock" John said sadly.
"Why would you be sorry?" Sherlock mused. "This could mean she has gotten herself onto a witness protection act in America and cannot contact me, which I am not sad about"
John watched the taller man with ease, something had lifted when this case had finished; the tension between them had slightly evaporated and John found himself very comfortable indeed.
"Oh, John, please change my text alert noise." Sherlock said handing his phone to his bed mate.
John laughed; "What to?" John asked.
"I don't care, just something other than that noise." Sherlock murmured, closing his eyes contentedly.
John had a sudden idea and he quickly found the recording facility and hit record;
"Sherlock" John said in his huskiest voice.
Sherlock opened his eyes to see John's cat like grin as he the man quickly made Recording Number 1 the text alert noise for every single text Sherlock would receive.
Sherlock stared incredulously at John. "What just happened?" he asked cautiously.
"You said anything" John said with a childlike smile.
"Ahh" Sherlock said as an epiphany hit him, he stared at John as though he was seeing him for the first time.
"Nope" John denied it before it was out; he knew what was coming.
Sherlock crawled to John and stopped close to his face, holding himself suspended above John by his straight arms, noses barely touching.
"You like me" Sherlock whispered.
"How big headed of you" John squeaked, very aware of Sherlock's close proximity.
"You know me, John, it doesn't work, I can tell quite clearly that you like me, and you have liked me for a long time, possibly since we met. Am I wrong?" Sherlock was intimidating, but still beautiful.
John couldn't help himself, he let go of the phone, sending it a-woll down the duvet as he grabbed a hold of Sherlock's face and kissed him passionately.
Sherlock didn't move, he allowed himself to be kissed but remained resting on his hands above the doctor.
John broke the kiss and stared tentatively up at his flatmate. The silence was deafening. John shifted awkwardly as Sherlock searched his face through the darkness.
Finally, Sherlock hesitantly lowered himself onto the shorter man, his grey-blue eyes darting quickly from John's mouth to his own dark blue eyes. John held his breath as he watched Sherlock control the situation. The brunette gently nudged John's nose with his own uneasily before leaning slightly away to see his expression; he then slowly closed the gap and pressed his lips to John's once more. For a moment it was pure bliss for the two men.
Suddenly, as though something had snapped; Sherlock threw himself back, bouncing off the bed and landing heavily on the floor.
John remained stunned as he tried to get to his knees and crawl to the side of the bed; he hooked his chin over the mattress to see Sherlock sitting, wide eyed on the floor, looking up at John in shock.
"You ok?" John asked croakily.
Sherlock didn't talk, instead he got to his feet and awkwardly side glanced the bed and John.
John got to his feet, struggling against the sheets, the pair stood opposite each other in only their boxer shorts.
"Shall I make us a cup of tea?" John finally offered to break the terrible silence that had occurred.
Sherlock watched John cautiously, like a deer caught in headlights. John took his wide eyed silence to be a yes and he made for the bedroom door. Sherlock moved quicker, however, and slammed the door closed. John lost his grip on the handle and looked wildly up at Sherlock, his mouth slightly open displaying surprise. Sherlock approached the smaller man swiftly; backing John into the wall beside the door, his eyes were now narrowed dangerously as he locked stares with John.
John was now the deer in the headlights as the taller man, ironically, without his deer stalker, pinned him against the wall with his bony hips.
"I don't understand this" Sherlock said, his deep voice almost indistinguishable in the quiet room.
John shivered.
"But I understand the chemistry" Sherlock continued, his pelvic prison keeping John firmly in one place as he rested his hands on the wall either side of John's head.
John stared hopelessly at Sherlock's lips, lured by the voice that was indescribably comforting and seductive.
"I can clearly see your heart rate has accelerated dangerously, your pupils are wide – so wide that I can't see any colour to them, your mouth is dry and your breathing is uncontrolled. But I do not understand why". Sherlock whispered in one breath.
"I can show you" John said hastily, sounding a lot braver than he felt.
John licked his lips and raised his hands to Sherlock's waist; "I can show you how it feels" he whispered.
"How what feels?" Sherlock whispered, taken in by John's eyes.
"How it feels…to be loved" John licked his lips again as he looked eagerly up at Sherlock.
Sherlock pushed himself from the wall and walked back to the bed, leaving John feeling suddenly cold.
"I do not think it is wise" Sherlock said as he clambered back into his original position on the bed, he turned on his side with his back to John.
John felt heart broken; the hope that had filled every atom of his being just a few moments before had been cruelly ripped away, leaving him hollow and sad.
John didn't want to stay. He opened the bedroom door quietly and left the room. Heading to the joined living space, the fire was surprisingly still burning dully as he sat down in his armchair; reaching for the green blanket on the armrest he proceeded to make himself as comfortable as possible and loosely stared out of the window.
By morning, John was asleep. Sherlock surveyed the doctor from his own armchair where he had been sat; immaculately dressed, for over an hour.
There were no clients, no cases, no new blog to read and no food to eat.
There was nothing to distract the consulting detective from the problem at hand; he steepled his long fingers in front of his mouth, his elbows resting symmetrically on the armrests of his chair.
The downfalls of having a romantic relationship with John were overwhelming, but then, did they really outweigh the possible advantages? Sherlock had no footing on the subject; he had never been in a relationship before. Of course, he could act; he could be the person of any individuals' dreams, but when it came to real feelings and acting ones' self, he was at a loss.
However, all of that said, John was different. Sherlock had never acted with John, he had always been himself. John of course had had his problems with this but had always let them be known, he had always come back, and he was still here.
Sherlock allowed his photographic memory to display some of the moments from the past year with John in his Mind Palace; the running, the bravery, the honour, the laughs and the arguments; they were as good as a common married couple already.
He then allowed himself to examine last night's events. John's kiss, John's eyes in the darkness; the doctor would kill for Sherlock, would die for him and would die with him. It was then that the detective realised just how stupid he had been to believe that he had been protecting John all this time. John wanted to be with the detective; that much was obvious, he was already in the line of fire and had been for several months; that was why the soldier stayed.
Sherlock had taken him to his room so many nights before now because of selfish reasons, not protection; John calmed him.
John could look after himself.
John Watson was the perfect partner.
Having made a decision, Sherlock leaned forward in his armchair, placing his hands on the armrests to steady himself.
"John" he called gently.
John stirred ever so slightly but did not wake. Sherlock fidgeted for a bit before he called out to John again.
This time John opened his eyes sleepily and stretched out his upper body, trying to blink out the bright daylight flooding in the window behind Sherlock.
"Morning Sherlock" John grumbled as he stood from the chair, wrapping the blanket around him tightly; feeling somewhat exposed.
"Show me" Sherlock stated loudly, looking from the floor up to John's facial expression.
"Show you?" John questioned, tilting his head to the left and raising an eyebrow.
"Do you remember our conversation last night?" Sherlock said jumping to his feet and approaching John quietly; his back straight as he looked down at John, not quite sure if intimidating him was going to help the situation.
John tightly gripped the blanket as he watched Sherlock with slight fear.
"I've thought about it and I want you to show me. If you are still interested in doing so" Sherlock murmured as though talking about playing tennis after lunch.
"Sherlock" John sighed as he sat down once more; "You can't just pick me up and drop me. You need to understand that if you are saying yes to this; it is a relationship. It doesn't just stop when a case comes along or when you just don't feel like it."
Sherlock furrowed his brow; "Neither does our friendship" he said simply.
John nodded in confirmation.
"What happened to trying to protect me from your enemies?" John asked quietly, looking away to examine the edge of the blanket he was holding.
"Deleted it. It made no sense" Sherlock said simply.
"Sherlock…it's going to be a lot of work to make it work" John said apprehensively.
"I understand that, John. I want this" Sherlock said, swooping down to lay a hand on either side of John's armchair and leaning close.
"Well ok then" John murmured as he calmly returned Sherlock's gaze. "Tonight" he said loudly.
Sherlock smiled widely; "Tonight" he confirmed before pushing himself away once more and sweeping into the kitchen to sit at his microscope. All was normal.
The day went by surprisingly quick, Lestrade popped in with a package of crime scene photographs; Sherlock solved the case in less than ten minutes. John made dinner; nothing special, just some heated up macaroni cheese from Mrs Hudson's fridge, Sherlock absent-mindedly ate a couple of spoonfuls as he examined his human hair samples in the microscope. John smiled wryly before washing the bowls and heading to the bathroom.
When John emerged from the ensuite in his old stripy dressing gown, Sherlock looked up at him;
"Should I shower?" he asked genuinely, his eyebrows high on his head as he looked up at John.
"Only if you want to" John said with a wide smile.
Sherlock allowed his powers of deduction to home in on John and eyed him up and down;
Freshly shaved, aftershave; the expensive one, showered with lime gel, cleaned ears and fingernails rigorously, styled hair, new deodorant, brushed and flossed teeth, applied talcum powder.
Sherlock glanced at the clock and saw that it was approaching 9. He jumped to his feet for the second time that day and headed for the bathroom without another word. John smiled.
Twenty two minutes passed and Sherlock emerged fully showered, his hair still slightly damp, holding his curls down. He had taken John's lead and done everything the doctor had, except he had dressed once more before entering the living room.
John stood, still in his dressing gown, and approached Sherlock.
"Ok?" He asked gently. Sherlock nodded with wide eyes. "Sherlock, are you…have you had any experience of this nature?" John asked tentatively.
Sherlock shook his head.
"Not even…with yourself?" John questioned feeling a blush creep up his neck.
Sherlock shook his head once more, now adding a frown; "Everything else is transport" the taller man said in his usual cool baritone.
"Ok, then, if you feel uncomfortable at any time, let me know and we can stop" John said gently.
"I'm not a child, John" Sherlock said sharply.
"Sometimes, I'm not so sure" John said with a smile. "Ok, come on then, lets get comfortable, your room ok?"
"Yes, is it adequate for your needs?" Sherlock asked, giving John a questioning look.
John smiled once more and nodded curtly before awkwardly walking past Sherlock and into the detective's bedroom.