The taxi ride home was awkward to say the least. Sherlock was staring out the window, and he knew John was seething miserably beside him. Halfway there, he turned. "Dinner? Chinese? On me?" There's a silence. "Please?"
John didn´t turn his head to look at Sherlock, he just couldn´t. He stared at the changing scenery in front of him and sighed. "I´m not that hungry...I appreciate your gesture, but I don´t feel like eating."
"I don't either." Sherlock didn't want to say that it had taken him until then to understand what Ms. Adler had meant by 'dinner.' "I'm sorry, John. I didn't know that it would...extend to this. I just thought that the...physical was all you needed."
"Well, seems like even Sherlock Holmes can read people wrong." John stated dryly, paying the cab as it reached their flat and opened the door stumbling out of the car and inhaling deeply yet again. He didn´t like the sharp pain on his chest, it didn´t belong there.
Sherlock felt like wringing his hands. "I...John, I'm sorry." He was really terrible at this whole interaction, and was just making it more awkward. "You've got more experience in relationships. What do you want from me?" It sounds snappish, but he's serious. He doesn't know.
John stopped before their door, before pushing the key in hole and opening it, turning to look at Sherlock over his shoulders with glassed over, pained eyes. "That´s for you to find out. It wouldn´t be the same if I told you." He shook his head lightly before stepping inside their flat, getting rid of his shoes and walking upstairs, noticing the small, sharp pain on his leg. Lifting an eyebrow surprised, he tested the leg. Yes, the phantom pain was doing its return. With a sigh he walked in kitchen, putting the kettle on fire and starting to prepare tea. Tea always helped.
Sherlock followed silently, staring at John's gait - it was uneven, stress induced limp, he can tell. Now he knows. It's emotional turmoil that sets him off, but he never expected something as simple as this to set him off...but John, deep down, wasn't simple. That's what Sherlock loved about him.
"I'm ordering Chinese," he said to John's back, still turned to him in the kitchen. His flat mate was making tea, and he noticed only one cup. "Want the usual? Or...something special?"
"The usual sounds fine, but take a small size. John said pouring tea on the cup. "As I said, I´m not hungry." He finished taking the cup and moving into the living room, passing the skull and glanced at it before sitting on 'his' armchair, since Sherlock always took over the couch. Sometimes he had caught Sherlock sleeping on it, and it looked uncomfortable, Sherlock being a tall person after all.
Sherlock is quick to order their usual, ignoring John's size request. Afterward, he wraps himself in his blue dressing gown and comes to sit across from John in his chair, staring intently at him. "How long?"
John was mindlessly tapping away on his laptop, reading comments on his blog and replying them and lifted his gaze of the screen with a confused look. "How long what? Be more specific, please."
"How long have you been attracted to me?" He knows John's about to respond with something ridiculous, so he throws the dart. "How long have you loved me?"
John shook his head, thought about arguing about it but he had already showed himself and his feelings when he got pissed off. "I´m not sure. You could say it just happened."
"You've lived with me over a year. It doesn't just happen." Sherlock leaned forward and snapped John's laptop shut. "When did it start? When did you first even entertain the idea?"
"Hey!" John hissed grabbing the laptop back, holding it against his chest and glared at Sherlock. "You know, I could have been doing important work which would have been lost when you closed the lid."
"Your settings won't let anything close, it's on standby, now -tell- me." His eyes narrow, then widen. "You wouldn't have put up with me so long unless...unless something got in your way." He leans back, closing his eyes for a moment, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "It was her. The Woman. He opens them and looks directly at John. "You sensed competition."
"Competition? Now you´re talking rubbish." John said quickly, ignoring the unpleasant loop his stomach did. Irene Adler. He had hated the woman right after he realized that she was trying to get Sherlock, but it wasn´t like he was going to tell that to anyone. "The reason I put up with you is that you´d be lost without your blogger." He retorted back, drinking his tea.
John, as always you see but you do not observe." Sherlock shook his head, smiling. "Or in this case, you do not listen." He leaned forward. "Attraction to me...yes. But you forget to include the fact that she told you she was a lesbian." His eyes narrow. "What was it she did that you hated so much?"
John blinked few times, opening his mouth and shutting it again. "Lesbian? B-but she wanted to have 'dinner' with you and we both know what that really meant." He added poison in his voice before he caught himself and coughed. "Can we please talk about something else? I have work to do." John said putting the laptop on the floor and empty cup on the small table.
"Dinner - a euphemism for a date, I'm sure. Sex, more likely. She's drawn to the idea of having power over someone. I'm the perfect challenge." He gave John a look. "You have nothing to do, stop lying. And you -do- want to talk about it, it's a subconscious trick to draw into a conversation." He put his hands on John's knees. "We're going to talk about it. Now tell me, why do you love me? You're angry with me all the time."
John fought the shiver down that was about to rise when Sherlock touched his knees and swallowed. "I´m not mad…no, I´m mad about what you did, that´s what I´m mad about." He said his eyes fixed on the hands on his knees. Such long, elegant fingers. Smooth skinned. He felt the heat on his cheeks as he remembered what those fingers were doing to him earlier and shook his head. "Why I love you? Because you´re the most amazing person I´ve ever met. I never get bored with you, and when we´re alone, you have this...smile on your face. I´ve never seen you give it to anyone else than me.."
"People are boring, you at least provide some stimulation," Sherlock comments. It sounds a lot harsher than he intends it to. "At this stage, it's only physical infatuation. I'm assuming it will pass." The words make his heart sink. "Don't worry, John, you won't love me for long."
John stared at Sherlock, not believing his ears. Just how dumb could someone be! The old irritation rising from deep from his chest, he threw the most piercing glare he could at Sherlock as he stood up absurdly, shaking his hands away from him. "Sherlock Holmes, you´re a bloody idiot. The night was tiring and I have work in morning. Good night." And with that, he turned away and practically fled back to the stairs and in his own room.
Sherlock stared after him. It had been a test. John's emotional only rarely, and he can tell - it's different. It's not just an infatuation. And the worst thing is...he doesn't know what to do, now. A moody John he can deal with, an angry John is like brain food, arguing usually exposes things, but an...upset John...that's a little more difficult. It's like Sherlock without a case. John rarely does this, shuts down like Sherlock will.
The doorbell rings - Chinese. He carries the takeout boxes upstairs, knocking on John's surprisingly closed door. "John." No answer. "John, I got your favorite." No answer. "If you don't open the door, I'll eat your fortune cookie. I'll predict it, too. And I'll probably be right."
John sat on his bed with a small book, glancing at the door when he hears the knock and Sherlock call for him and he shook his head. God help him, he was acting like a lovesick teenager, but this, all this, the emotions he thought he would never feel anymore, they were there and feeling towards one of the arrogant and complicated person on earth.
"Feel free to, I told you I´m not hungry!" John shouted back at him, closing the book and placing it on the night table. He was irritated, pissed, angry and sad at the same time and he wasn´t used to feel so many emotions at the same time.
"Well then." Sherlock rustles the bag. "Here's my prediction: Forgiveness is the mother of all good deeds." He cracked open the cookie. "Well look at that! And I opened it on your behalf, so it's really your fortune. Three guesses as to what mine is." He pressed his cheek to the door. "Come on, John. You can't see if I'm right or not."
John ignored Sherlock for a while, but couldn´t help the small smile on his lip. Of course he would know what there would be in a fortune cookie, what didn´t Sherlock now? Sherlock's cookie though.. "How about 'Searching deeper inside you, you might find the answer you´re looking for?" John asked the first thing that came in his mind.
"Well, deeper in my pockets I may, just may, find something that will help me pick the lock on your door," Sherlock says nonchalantly. "Let's find out. Ah yes. Guess I'd better get to work then."
He's terrible at lock-picking and of course he's lying, he doesn't have anything in his pockets. But he kneels down and starts to poke a chopstick in the keyhole, rattling it around with a very convincing sound. "Why did you even lock the door? Are you naked? Not that that matters anymore." There's a snap, and the tip of the chopstick breaks. Sherlock scowls and stays there on the floor. "John...please."
John froze for a moment, hearing Sherlock try to pick on the lock, but surprisingly he noticed that he didn´t get it open. So he had most likely used some weak material and it was stuck in the keyhole now. Perfect.
With a sigh, John moved carefully to the door, but didn´t open it. Instead he slid against it on the floor, head resting on the door. "What do you want me to say? There´s nothing left to say or do anymore Sherlock. Let´s just forget this and continue like normal, okay?"
"This isn't normal, John. You've locked yourself in your room and you won't talk to me." Sherlock can almost feel John on the other side, and slips his fingers under the door. "Please, John. I have...difficulty with these things. Be gentle with me. Talk with me."
John jerked startled, seeing the tips of Sherlock's fingers peek from under the door and the image of Sherlock kneeling behind the same door, trying to pry his fingers under it like he could turn into a worm and slither on this side of the room made John stifle a laughter behind his palm. He knew Sherlock wasn´t used to this, but..."You hurt me, Sherlock. I know you´re not good with feelings, but tonight, you hurt me. You thought all I want was something physical, like a...like a prostitute. You used me to experiment if you were right with your conclusions. I´m not an experiment, I´m a human being with feelings."
Sherlock was quiet a moment. He really had hurt John, and there's an acidic curling of guilt in his gut. "John, I'm...I'm sorry, I didn't know. After all, I didn't really see anything in common between you and Sarah, but you slept together. I thought that constituted..." He was sounding particularly stupid now. "John. Let me in. I prefer to do my interviews face to face, you know that."
John shook his head to himself. "Me and Sarah...we never did it." He found himself saying and flushed a little. Torn between just saying night and going to bed, John caved and stood up, turning the key on the lock and opening the door.
Sherlock looks up at him from the floor, the bag of Chinese sitting beside him, broken chopstick in hand. "Half empty tube of silicon-based lubricant in your beside cabinet, open box of condoms, came home smelling of pheromones...you intended to. But you didn't?" He tilts his head, still sitting. "Why not?"
"I couldn´t." John said turning around and marching back in his room, but leaving door open as an invitation he knew Sherlock would take. "And how do you know..about the lube and condoms?" He asked with a lifted eyebrow. "Do you go through my stuff when I´m not home?"
"Shared quarters. My things are yours, yours are mine. Can't be surprised." Sherlock walked to sit on his bed. "Why didn't you? You realized you were gay?"
You still shouldn´t go through stuff in others peoples drawers." John pointed out as he sat cross-legged on the bed and nodded. "You could say that. When we were about to...I just couldn´t do it."
"Still...you felt threatened by Irene when you had a girlfriend." Sherlock shook his head. "Two gay men living together, one has a fake girlfriend and still feels threatened by a lesbian dominatrix. You, John Watson, are complicated."
John was on lack of words, all he could do was stare at Sherlock before he blinked himself out of it. "Wait, two gay guys? And I´m not gay, bi maybe..not gay.. But you mean you´re...I thought you were 'married to your work'" John quoted Sherlock's own words.
"No human interaction to feed on usually leads to celibacy for a while," Sherlock counters, his face unchanging. "You asked me if I had a girlfriend, I said not really my area. You then asked if I had a boyfriend, said it was fine, I said I knew it was, and then said no, I didn't have one. I didn't deny my sexuality. As always, John." He leaned forward. "You see, but you do not -observe.-" His gaze is strange, oddly promising, teasing, and at the same time reassuring.
John swallowed, that all made sense to be honest. "So…you´re gay. But you haven´t shown any interest to anyone. Why is that? Do you think relationships are just boring?" He asked ignoring the move Sherlock made, making them sit closer to each other. He had too many questions in his mind, the gogs turning in his head.
"The wrong relationships, yes. Hence the reason your girlfriends bore me just about to death." He inclines his head. "You've got more questions. I can see them in your brow line."
"Few, yeah." John admitted looking up from the floor and for a long time met Sherlock's eyes, almost shivering at the insentity of the gaze. "You look troubled by the fact that I´m feeling..like this. Why? Because if you´re afraid I´ll leave you to fight against criminals alone, I´m not doing that."
"No, because I need you." It's the most honest thing he's ever said to John. And it's true. He does need John. "You look surprised."
John pretty much gawped at Sherlock before melting in a smile. "I told you you´d be lost without your blogger."
Sherlock laughs at that, and brushes his foot against John's thigh. "So...can you stand my company tonight, now that you've discovered all this?"
"Maybe. Are you going to drive me on the walls again?" John asked amused, already feeling lighter and more relaxed.
"Depends. Would you feel more 'normal' then?"
"I would never feel normal when I´m with you. Nothing is normal or boring."
"Strange type of purgatory, isn't it? Maybe you're working off all your sins by living with me." Sherlock grins and moved a little closer. "Forgive me?"
John was quiet for a moment. "I´m not forgetting this easily you know, but if we´re meant to live under the same roof, I guess I have to take a little easier with you."
"Deduce me this, John." Sherlock leaned forward, and his gaze was very intense. "Why did I do what I did in that closet, today?"
"U-uhh..." John stuttered, automatically leaning on his hands, backing away from Sherlock. "Because you made a hypothesis of me and wanted to experiment if you were right?"
Sherlock closed his eyes. "You live with me, John. I conduct my social experiments from afar, usually. Unless it involves you. Now. What does that say, or do I really have to spell it out for you?"
John blinked, licking on his lip briefly. "You..care?" He suggested weakly, eyes searching Sherlock's face.
Sherlock doesn't break gaze. "Care. What do you really think, John?" He presses his hands to the mattress. "What do you want to think, John?"
"I.." John swallowed, breaking the gaze and turning it on the floor shaking his head. "It´s impossible. there would be no way you´d be interested in someone like me. A boring ex-army doctor.."
"You're the only one who'll accompany me on a chase. You're the only one who puts up with me on a daily basis. You're the only one who will laugh with me about being in nothing but a sheet at the center of the British Empire. You're my only friend." Sherlock crawls closer. "And you don't think that that would interest me?"
John swallowed, turning his head back at Sherlock and flinching, noticing the predatory style he was crawling closer. "So you are interested then..?"
"Just a tad," Sherlock murmurs. He's very close now. "Thinking of kissing me, John? Isn't that what normal people do?"
"We´re far from normal." John murmured weakly, eyes flickering between his grey, intent eyes to his lips.
"Really?" Sherlock whispered, and his face was crafty now. "Guess our definitions are different." And he pushes John down on the mattress and kissed him.
*squeals* Very sexy times in next chapter, stay tuned up for it! Also, I want to thank for the review and everyone who favourited/alerted this story! Please review more!