Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock.
A/N: This was cowritten with the brilliant writer par-0x-ysm who can be found on tumblr. I wrote as John and she wrote as Sherlock. Bolded words are meant to be texts. The perspectives do change back and forth.
"Beauty awakens the soul to act."
-Dante Alighieri
Sherlock rolled over uncomfortably and watched the window. It seemed too sunny for February, and he cursed the hospital for keeping him so long. The door creaked and he turned, hoping for John and being massively disappointed.
"Piss off Mycroft." Sherlock muttered, turning away from him and trying to hide the wince. Mycroft noticed and smirked a little.
"Don't act childish Sherlock, I'm just concerned." Sherlock continued to ignore him. Mycroft paced towards the window and watched carefully.
"Are you aware that if you press charges against Sebastian he could easily pay off most of the jury to consider him not guilty? You aren't nearly wealthy enough to change that." Sherlock turned quickly.
"Who said I was going to press charges?" Sherlock asked, slowly sitting up. Mycroft smiled and raised an eyebrow.
"You aren't, I am." Mycroft paced back to the door, "You're welcome." Sherlock was about to protest when John walked back in. Mycroft nodded at him before walking out, leaving Sherlock wondering how many ways he could kill Mycroft without anyone finding out.
John stood to the side of the door, a cookie in hand, watching as an unfamiliar boy with rustic brown hair nodded at him before swiftly clearing out of the room. John turned to Sherlock, raising his eyebrows, curiosity picking at him. Sherlock was glaring angrily at the door, his arms crossed and his jaw set with irritation. Clearly, Sherlock held some sort of animosity towards that boy.
"Morning Sherlock." John walked over to his friend. He turned to look at the door and then back at Sherlock. "Who was that?"
"My brother. He's an idiot and pretty much the entire English government already. He's seven years older than me." Sherlock said, still angry. He pushed it aside and looked back up at John. "Where did you go?" He enquired, pushing himself into a better position. "I woke up when you were leaving." Sherlock pushed the covers away from his legs and winced. He was still angry at Mycroft, he didn't understand why he had to stick his stupid nose in where it wasn't needed. He didn't want to press charges, or get into any type of legal battle. He just wanted it over.
"Oh." John blinked, turning back to look at the door. "Your brother." he nodded slowly, letting the information absorb. "Okay. Well then." John had to admit that Sherlock and his brother looked nothing like each other. Sherlock's brother was tall and had a slightly plump frame. His face was round, his brown eyes set deep within his peach-colored visage, and his posture was proper and authoritative. So when Sherlock said that Mycroft was the government, John didn't find it surprising at all.
However, what John was curious about was their relationship. There was some sort of sibling rivalry going on here, which John wanted to know more about, but wasn't sure he wanted to take part of. Considering Sherlock's hateful glare and the way he practically spat out the fact that the other boy was his brother, John decided it was a sensitive subject best not touched. He held out the cookie towards Sherlock.
"I was just grabbing some food." John replied, smiling. "Got you something."
"Thank you." Sherlock said, quickly biting into the cookie and smiling. He sighed and leant back, watching John's face. "You have questions." He mentioned, nibbling on the cookie and watching John. John's body language basically gave it away, and the look on his face let Sherlock know that he was curious about Mycroft. He sighed again.
"Mycroft's a dick. He thinks he's better than everyone else because my parents preferred him and he's in the government." Sherlock finished his cookie somewhat violently, making a face at the thought of Mycroft. "He wants me to press charges, and apparently is funding it."
"Well, are you going to then?" John asked, wincing slightly at the rough manner in which Sherlock finished his cookie. Definitely a very touchy subject.
"Have to." Sherlock muttered, brushing crumbs away as if they'd each had individually annoyed him. "What Mycroft says goes, and even if I don't give evidence, he'll find a way." Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes, trying to avoid any thoughts of Mycroft.
John laughed at the pouty look on Sherlock's face. He looked like a little kid. John reached over, brushing off a stray crumb that Sherlock had missed. "I'll go with you, if you want." John smiled, his fingers lingering on Sherlock's face a little longer than he had intended. John pulled away, adjusting the chair and bringing it closer so that he could sit down next to Sherlock.
Sherlock smiled at the touch and nodded. "I don't think I could do it alone." He shuffled to the edge of the bed so he could sit with John better and rested his head against the bed frame. "What's the food like here? Cookies don't count." He joked, smiling gently at John and reaching for his hand. He began drawing circles again and bit his lip.
"Well, it's okay. I mean, it is a hospital after all. Not exactly gourmet." John chuckled. He was happy that Sherlock was looking a lot healthier. The color had returned to his skin and he was starting to move around more.
"I heard what you said to the nurse, and I really appreciate it." After a small pause, Sherlock looked up. "It's mutual by the way." He blushed a little and looked back to where he was drawing circles.
"Oh. You heard that." John blinked, fiddling with his fingers. He scratched his jaw and smiled. "Do you know when they are going to let you out of here?" he asked.
Sherlock made a face, "Apparently I have to stay until tonight. Although I don't really get why." He shifted again, and brought his feet up against John's legs. "I heard you. Did you hear anything last night? I woke up at 3..." Sherlock trailed off, unsure whether or not he wanted John to have heard. It would be easier than repeating it anyway.
"3:33 AM actually." Sherlock said, leaning down to itch his ankle. He hid his face on his knees, and tried not to blush.
"They probably have good reason to, Sherlock. I mean you did crack some ribs... not to mention a concussion. I'm sure it's just standard practice." John patted Sherlock on the back. He stretched his arms behind his back and gave Sherlock an inquisitive look. Why was Sherlock hiding his face? "And I didn't. Did something happen?" he leaned down and peeked at Sherlock, who averted his gaze. "Sherlock?"
Sherlock shook his head and looked up. "Just thought it was strange I woke up at exactly 3:33." He lied, biting his lip and fiddling with his hospital bracelet. "Maybe it was the concussion or something." After a moment's pause, he took John's hand and squeezed it gently. "Will you come home with me? Once I'm out, will you come back to my dorm? I... I don't know if I can cope being alone again." He tried to hide the flush working up his neck again, and averted his eyes. "But only if you want to."
John decided to drop the subject. He wasn't sure what had happened at 3:33, and although he was very curious to know, Sherlock didn't look comfortable talking about it. John felt Sherlock's hand gently wrap around his, and John looked up. He gave Sherlock's hand a tender squeeze back. "Of course, I will."
Sherlock tried to fight the smile working onto his face, and kissed John's forehead. "Thank you." He mumbled into his skin, breath dusting over John's face. "Sometimes I'll ignore you, so I'll feel in control..." Sherlock blushed again, and looked down. "But really I adore you, and I really really can't leave you alone. So I'm sorry in advance." He looked back up. "I play violin when I'm thinking. I don't really sleep that much." He furrowed his eyebrows, "Just so you know the worst." He mumbled, trying to think of anything else that could be problematic about John sharing a room. "I don't have a fridge." He said, itching the back of his neck.
"You're fine just the way you are, and I wouldn't have it any other way." John laughed, leaning forward to kiss Sherlock on the lips. He pressed his forehead against Sherlock's, and peered into Sherlock's fathomless grey eyes. He felt Sherlock's warm breath tickle his face. "Thanks for warning me, but I've been your friend long enough to be used to all of that anyway. We'll be just fine." This was a giant step forward for John, and he had to admit that he was slightly nervous. He wasn't sure how his parents would react, and he wasn't sure what it would be like, living together with Sherlock. He had never shared any sort of living space with someone he was romantically attracted to before. Nevertheless, John was happy that Sherlock had asked and he was determined to give it the best he had.
Sherlock smiled, and brought his lips back to John's. "Let's see if you say the same this time next week." He joked. He rested his forehead against John's and looked towards the window. It was slightly open, and the breeze was starting to frustrate Sherlock. "How many rules would I be breaking if I had a cigarette right now?" He asked, itching for one almost as soon as it left his mouth. He knew John was trying to make him stop, but honestly the addiction was too strong. It was the kind of addiction that fills your lungs, and bites at the back of your mind until you give in. He made a face. "Sorry."
John rolled his eyes, his forehead creasing in a stern frown. "Plenty. Sherlock, perhaps you should consider patches? They're a lot healthier than cigarettes. I swear, if you continue at the rate you're going with those cigarettes, lung cancer will kill you before anything else." John shook his head and chuckled as he watched Sherlock sulk. John bit his lip. Sherlock's injured body, along with the miserable expression on his face was making John feel exponentially guilty, even though he hadn't really done anything wrong. John tried hard to resist, but ended up giving in. "But, well... I suppose one more wouldn't hurt much. But just one!"
Sherlock smiled, and pecked John on the lips. "Just one." He promised, fingers crossed behind his back. He reached into his bag that Mycroft had conveniently dropped there when he was pacing and grabbed them. He made a face at the brand and almost immediately stood up. "Feeling better already." He joked, pulling himself towards the window and frowning at the view. "You'd think they would put something a little bit more inspiring, instead of just a car park." Sherlock shrugged as he lit up, looking at John carefully. He sent a smoke ring towards the cars below and frowned. "Patches, meh." He muttered, flicking ash onto the window sill. "They probably don't work."
John joined Sherlock, his arms hanging loosely outside the window. He stared as people meandered in and out of the hospital. "It's a hospital. You don't really come here for inspiration, do you?" John commented as his eyes roamed over the multitude of cars parked throughout the lot. Sunlight bounced off of the roofs of the cars and reflected brightly back into the light blue sky. He took in a deep breath of the air outside, which had the underlying sharp scent of hospital sanitation as well as the sweet and thick smell of Sherlock's cigarette. John leaned on his elbow, his head turning up to look at Sherlock. He watched as a small breeze carried dark grey specks of ashes from Sherlock's cigarette away. John couldn't help frowning again. "But you haven't tried the patches, so you don't really know."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow at John, and lent against the wall. "Maybe, I'll try them sometime. Just to make you happy." He said a bit half heartedly. He sent more smoke towards the cars, and looked towards John again. "I... I was talking to you at 3:33. I just... I said some things, because I knew you couldn't hear me." Sherlock blushed, and focused on the smoke trailing out the window. "I was just apologising and stuff." He mumbled, dragging more smoke out of his cigarette and pushing it out to the breeze outside.
"The sooner the better." John muttered, his fingers reaching out to grasp at the smoke wafting from Sherlock's cigarette. He stared intently as the grey strands drifted lazily away, and he marveled at the way the pale smoke contrasted against the pastel blue color of the sky. John straightened himself, his attention now fully on Sherlock. "Apologising?" He asked, his eyebrows scrunching together. "For what? You don't have anything to be sorry for."
Sherlock laughed without humor, putting his cigarette out on the windowsill and flicking it to the carpark below. "I have a lot to be sorry for." He muttered, walking back and sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. He rummaged through his bag to see what Mycroft had packed and made a face. He pushed the bag away from him, and pulled the covers over himself. "I still haven't even broken up with Seb." He pointed out, trying to prove that he wasn't as great as John seemed to imagine. "That's something to be sorry for." He itched the back of his neck in agitation and pushed the covers back off him.
John's eyes followed Sherlock as his friend moved towards the bed, picking through his bag before dropping it unceremoniously onto the ground. Sherlock squirmed around the bed, his lips pursed and an irritated scowl on his face. John stared at Sherlock, his eyebrows raised. He wasn't quite sure why Sherlock was so set on apologizing for things that John didn't blame him for. "No it's not. It doesn't make sense to apologize for that. I'm not mad at you Sherlock."
Sherlock smiled wistfully, and looked away from John. "I don't love him. I promise. I never did." He looked up and searched John's face, hoping John understood that Sherlock was somewhat trapped in the situation, and wasn't there willingly at all. "I loved you long before I even knew he existed." Sherlock said truthfully. In all honesty, when Seb first came up to Sherlock and began talking to him, all Sherlock did was compare Seb to John. He didn't really feel guilty, he just wondered why no one else in the world seemed to have John's shade of blue in their eyes.
John blushed and looked down at his hands. "Even if you had loved him, I wouldn't have hated you for it. So there's no need to be sorry." He peeked back outside the window. It finally made sense to John, why Sherlock was always sullen when John got himself a girlfriend. How had John not realized that? "So did you say anything else at 3:33 AM?" He asked.
Sherlock blushed darkly and picked at the blanket, "I remember apologizing for getting you involved in this, and making you get angry at Seb. I said sorry for being so weak, and I said sorry for not saying it all out loud when you could hear me. I apologized for not being able to stop it, and I'm pretty sure I apologized for breaking your heart. Then I told you that I knew you loved me, even though I didn't understand why or how or which God blessed me, but you do. And then I thanked you for showing me that not everyone just uses me for sex and loving me when no one else did." Sherlock didn't make eye contact and swallowed heavily, avoiding looking at John completely. He could feel the fire in his cheeks, and tried to hide his face by picking intently at the blanket.
John blinked, his arms limp by his side and his legs frozen in place. "Oh." John gaped at the window, slightly stunned. He turned around to see Sherlock burrow himself into his blanket, his gaze averted. John's heart warmed, the heat spreading through his body and lighting up his cheeks. His lips parted in a soft smile and he walked over to his friend and laid down next to Sherlock. John gently nudged the blanket away so that he could see Sherlock's face. "I love you too." John placed a soft kiss on Sherlock's nose. He frowned a little at the distressed expression on Sherlock's face. "Sherlock, you bloody idiot. You worry too much sometimes. There's nothing to forgive, because you never did anything wrong."
Sherlock flushed deeper and peeked at John from under his blanket. "Do you mean that?" He asked, a look of hopefulness flitting across his face. "I love you a lot." He perched up a little, so he could press his lips to John's and did just that. "You're too good for me." He murmured between kisses, placing his hands instinctively on John's waist.
"Of course I mean that." John replied firmly as he kissed Sherlock back. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock's back and pulled him closer. John trailed his fingers along Sherlock's spine before resting his hand on the small of Sherlock's back. He broke away, and gave Sherlock an aloof grin. "Should we really be doing this? In a hospital? With your cracked ribs and broken collarbone?"
"I have a feeling that they don't care in the slightest." Sherlock moved so he was sitting on John's lap, arms looping around his neck. "And my bones don't care either." He smirked and continued in his exploration of John's mouth and jaw line, his hands roaming freely over John's back and hair.
"Mhm. Good then." John murmured, closing his eyes as he felt Sherlock's lips brush a line from his ear down to his neck. He smiled, leaning down so that his nose was in Sherlock's hair. "You smell good for someone who's been in the hospital for an entire day." John joked as his fingers caressed the back of Sherlock's neck.
Sherlock chuckled a bit, and started working on John's throat again. He was probably leaving marks, but he was carefully avoiding hurting John. "It's a talent." He joked, hands sliding under John's shirt and drawing lazy circles across the base of his spine. "I want to go home now." He muttered, catching John's bottom lip between his teeth.
"It's a useful one to have." John laughed, pressing his forehead against Sherlock's. He stared into Sherlock's smoldering steel eyes, and John's mind clouded with desire. John was suddenly feeling very, very hot, and it didn't help that Sherlock's hands were teasing the small of his back. If it weren't for the fact that they were in a hospital, he might have done something about it. Instead, John quickly shut his eyes, his teeth biting hard on his lips as he tried to think about something other than how good Sherlock's lips felt on him. "God, Sherlock, I don't know how much more of this I can handle."
Sherlock immediately let go, resting his forehead against John's and kissing him a little softer. "Sorry. Forgot where we were." He mumbled, changing his position so he wasn't leaning so much weight on John's lap. "Later." He promised, smoothing out the back of John's shirt and biting his lip. "But only if it's okay with you." He added, quickly making sure John knew Sherlock wouldn't force him into anything. He knew what it was like to be forced into situations you didn't want to be in and he shivered slightly.
"It's a date, then." John nodded, a slight hollow feeling replacing the fire in his body. He wished that they were anywhere more private than a hospital. Sherlock looked so bloody adorable. John slumped into Sherlock's chest, his shirt obscuring John's face. John let out a heavy groan. "Sherlock, you'll be the death of me." he mumbled, his words slightly muffled.
Sherlock tried not to smirk and failed, running a hand through John's hair. "Sorry." He said, throat vibrating on John's forehead. "Didn't realise." His voice was deep, and still laced with the heat they'd just left behind. Sherlock pulled John closer to him and shifted to fit better next to him. "One day I'll use that against you."
"Bloody evil." John muttered, shaking his head lightly, before he looked up at Sherlock. "You hungry?" John asked, cracking a small smile.
"Not at all." Sherlock lied, not wanting to move from where he was with John. "Are you?" He subconsciously pulled John closer to him, his nose against his neck.
"No." John leaned back to give Sherlock a stern glance. "But you haven't eaten anything since yesterday. Except for a cookie. Which is not nearly enough." he frowned. Sherlock always had this bad habit of forgetting to eat. It always seemed that it was up to John to remind him, or else Sherlock would completely skip his meals.
Sherlock made a face, and wrinkled his nose into John's hair. "But I don't want to move." He complained, sounding like a child. "I choose you over food everyday." He mumbled, kissing John's temple. His stomach rumbled in protest and he hid his face.
"Which is both flattering and unhealthy." John chuckled at the large growl coming from Sherlock's stomach. He raised an eyebrow. "I'll go buy some for you, if you want. What do you want?"
Sherlock made a whining noise and clung to John. "I don't want you to go." He pouted and ignored what his stomach was telling him. "We'll go down later." He mumbled, not really meaning it.
John shot Sherlock a skeptical look. "We're not going to do anything else, until you eat." John crossed his arms, ignoring the way Sherlock was holding onto him. This was something he was firm on.
Sherlock pouted again. "Fine, but you do not leave me okay?" Sherlock stood up slowly and stretched, a sliver of stomach showing. He smiled gently at John, "I think I want bacon."
John laughed, giving Sherlock's shoulder a squeeze. "Of course. Now let's go get you some food, your majesty."
A/N: Fluff and stuff this chapter! I hope you all enjoyed it. Please don't forget to leave a review and let us know what you think, Mollie and I appreciate each and every one of them. Virtual cookies to KittiBell for the reviews! Thank you everyone for the follows and favorites. Much love!~
-omnomchocolate