Escaping Chapter 3, a sherlock fanfic

Chapter 3

Sherlock:

The groceries are gone. She must have gotten up this morning and moved them. After all, John has receded to his chair again. Sherlock thought, gazing towards John. Why should I care? Sherlock closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

John:

I was laying on him. Laying on him! How… How terrible… terribly obvious as well. Damn my feelings and I. He probably knows I was in that position; he had laced his fingers through mine, probably absently in his sleep. I would have to be a fool to think he did that. Sherlock doesn't even think that way of me… of anyone. John thought, gazing towards Sherlock. He looks beautiful sleeping. John closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

Sherlock:

I cannot let him know that I am up. I cannot look at him again; he is probably going to wake soon. I cannot face him. I don't know why. I cannot deduce anything about him other than the normal things, the boring things I already know. He really does look nice today. Just keep your eyes closed, Sherlock. Don't make the situation awkward.

John:

Wow, he is probably going to wake up soon. I hope he didn't see me staring. I just cannot stop thinking about him. Wow, this is a problem. But he is so brilliant. He probably has me figured out. I don't even have myself figured out yet. He seems to figure everything out. Yes, he knows. John, you don't even know. Stop thinking these things. You aren't gay. You never have been. Why would it start now? I mean, there was that thing in college. Maybe Sherlock had a thing in college. No. He doesn't like anyone. Ever. Not like that.

Sherlock:

My word, he really does look good. I cannot even go to my mind palace. He is always there. This has never happened before. Ever. I have been lying here, pretending to sleep for the past hour and a half… This is ridiculous. He hasn't even woken yet. He always wakes before me. Is that only to go to the grocer? Maybe he is sleeping in. That should be it. I cannot deduce anything when I cannot see him. Still, keep your eyes closed, Sherlock.

John:

This is fucking ridiculous. Why am I pretending to sleep while he is? He is asleep. I always wake before him. What time does he wake? Wait; does he need his nicotine patches? Maybe I should end this stupidity and just get up. No, I will wake him. Then he will ask questions like why I was laying over him and holding his hand. Wow, Sherlock. I am actually afraid what you think. You really are an amazing human being.

Sherlock:

Ok. This is not like me. Or him. We both need to wake. I will just not ask any questions about earlier. I shouldn't. He will expect answers of me. Ok… I will play the child's game. This is what they do when they are nervous, right? On the count of three…

John:

This is stupid. I should just wake up and get him his nicotine patches. Maybe if I do it on the count of three…

One…

Two…

Three…

The men snapped their eyes open at the exact same time, each to see the other staring back.

After a lengthy pause, John broke the awkward, staring silence, "Good morning."

Well, he sounds chipper. "Good morning, John." Sherlock replied stoic, as if he had seen a ghost.

"Breakfast, aye?" John felt his eyes darting from Sherlock's eyes, to the floor, to his own folded hands, to the bed, and back to Sherlock's eyes.

"Yes." Sherlock, observing carefully at the direction John's eyes took, paused, "Maybe bring the computer over here."

"Uhm, sure. I'll make eggs," John stammered, he felt a twisting anxiety in his chest, "Or something."

"Oh, yes. That sounds wonderful."

John left the room, just escaping in time to hide his scarlet cheeks.

The clicking of the stove disturbed Sherlock's conscience. After a moment, feeling disturbed, Sherlock pushed one leg off of the bed. He strained, and with much effort pulled the second one down. Sherlock gasped in pain as his feet touched the ground.

"Sherlock? Sherlock!" John ran to Sherlock from the kitchen just in time to catch him as he fell to the ground yelling.

"Why did you do that?" Sherlock's words struck John like whips.

"Y- you were falling? Why did you try and get up?"

"Why do you think? I wanted to watch you cook."

"Y-"

"See you cooking. What you were cooking." Sherlock quickly corrected himself, a heavy blush creeping up his face. Why am I acting this way? It is far too irrational. This is quite unnecessary. It's John.

"Yes. Yes, of course. Molly; she said you might need a wheelchair to move about for the first couple of days. I didn't even know you were going to try and get up. What about the computer?"

It was at this very moment the men became glaringly aware of the way John had caught Sherlock. His left hand was curled under right Sherlock's arm, holding his shoulder, and the other, reached around Sherlock, desperately grasping his lower back.

"I wanted that later. Not now." Sherlock tried to catch his error. John started pulling Sherlock up, back to the bed, but was interrupted, "John. What is happening?"

"What do you mean?" John didn't know if he meant with his injuries, his feelings, his hands or, well, with the world.

"What is happening? You have been acting erratically. Your eyes dart to an average of five locations every time we make eye contact. This is a sign of discomfort. What is discomforting you about me? This has never happened before."

John's eyes again darted to about five places. Damn it. I need to stop doing that. I keep on doing that. He needs to stop being so… To hell with that idea, he is Sherlock. He can't stop.

"I don't know, Sherlock." John quickly stammered out before hurrying to pull Sherlock up. He looked all over the room for the wheelchair but he couldn't find it. No need. Suddenly, Molly walked in. Before she was two steps inside the room John stopped her. "Molly- wheelchair- where?" His awkward tension and blushing was becoming terribly obvious as he started feeling very exposed.

"Corner. Kitchen. It is folded." Molly muttered shyly. She really was terrified when Sherlock was awake.

"Er- Ok." John lowered Sherlock to the floor, only to excite a loud yell out of the injured man.

"Dammit, John." Sherlock growled, wincing. Molly ran over and tried to hold Sherlock up, only to hear more groaning. John looked up, surprised that Sherlock actually stayed silent. That face…

"Just get the damn wheelchair." Sherlock was getting furious. This is uncomfortable. Damn Molly. She won't get the chair. The fact that I even need a chair is ridiculous. John is holding me in an… interesting way… Do I like this? His hand is rather close to my-

"Got it!" Molly tried to smile, but after the looks the two men gave her when she plopped the chair down, she knew they wanted her gone. She scurried away, tail tucked between her legs.

John lifted Sherlock up and put him in the wheelchair.

"Why?" John stayed kneeling in front of Sherlock's wheelchair.

"Why what, John?"

"Did you," John paused, he fought out the words but they put up a fight, "jump."

"John, things happened. Moriarty, he got his way."

"How did he get his way, Sherlock? Did he make you jump? Tell me he is at least dead."

"You understand this. You must. It is so simple. The trial, the false identity." Sherlock, for the first time, seemed to be at a loss for words. "You must understand."

"I don't."

"He was going to…"

"What?"

"Kill you." Sherlock felt a burning in his chest, one he had never felt before. He felt the need to hide his singular interest in John, but he didn't continue.

John's eyes went wide. He didn't think it was out of the question, but for Sherlock to risk his life… for John?

"He got his way, John." Sherlock continued, staring at the ground. For a second, John thought he saw his eyes glaze, but Sherlock blinked it away before it was even a possibility. "Why didn't you believe me?"

"I know you." John stared at Sherlock, his eyes burning holes in Sherlock's head.

"But how did you know?" Sherlock's face would have been perfectly stoic, but was given away by eyes glazed over and a tear forming at the corner of his eye.

John replied, not covering up his emotion nearly as well as Sherlock, "How could I not know?"