Chapter Two

Sherlock called John's name as he ran up the stairs towards his room. He had questions, mountains of questions. The only thing that had stopped him from asking them all whilst John was sitting next to him was the fact that he knew that John didn't want to be asked. Normally Sherlock wouldn't care about how other people felt about the interrogation, but Sherlock did care when it came to John. Because Sherlock was in love with John.

Love, anyone that knew Sherlock or had associated with him, no matter how briefly, knew that feelings were something Sherlock didn't have. Well if he did he never showed them. But John, John uncovered the face behind the mask, the cold mask that he always hid behind. Sherlock didn't know why this was the case and neither did John, but Sherlock did know the many reasons why he was so in love with Doctor John Watson.

John was beautiful, eyes, nose, mouth, hair, cheeks everything about the Doctor was stunning. The way he still put pressure on his right hand in the form of holding a crutch, when he was standing. The way he bent over and put his hands on his knees when he was out of breath. The way he always came home from the store complaining about the chip and pin machine. The way he rolled over in his sleep approximately every 4.37 minutes. The way John knew that Sherlock sometimes watched him as he slept and yet he didn't mind and didn't say anything. The way he put up with Sherlock's incessant ranting and raving and damn right stubbornness.

Sherlock was confused at John's abrupt exit. He had figured out that John was in deep, deep thought when Sherlock stupidly interrupted the silence. He had also figured out that it was something private by the way he changed his body posture as soon as Sherlock had questioned him. The tomato colour that the Doctor had turned was also a bit of a giveaway.

But what was so private to John was a mystery to Sherlock, although he did have inkling that it had something to do with him. He hoped it was something to do with him; it was nice to think that John thought about him so deeply, that Sherlock could not get his attention for a whole two minutes.

Although Sherlock knew this was just wishful thinking. The feeling between John and Sherlock couldn't be mutual. John had had many girlfriends in the time that the duo had known each other. Although in the past six months John had been unattached and this brought a spark of hope to Sherlock's mind.

He felt like a needy teenager. Just a bucket full of love, jealousy, longing, hope, hormones, sadness, lust, confusion and anger.

But mostly love.

Sherlock's mind quickly filled with thoughts of the Doctor and as the thoughts began to escalate the Detective began to swell. This was something that had been happening a lot recently. After a few days of having to excuse himself to the bathroom and do his business, Sherlock had finally figured out a way to, put it down, so to speak!

Anderson was the perfect cure. Thinking about Anderson sickened him instantly and thoroughly and this easily reduced the problem. Although Sherlock secretly wished John would notice his erection and piece the clues together, just like Sherlock had taught him to do. However he also wanted John to stay oblivious to Sherlock's feelings so that the Detective would not have to face the embarrassment of John's discovery.

Sherlock was confused by his feelings and he didn't like it. Sherlock was never confused.

Never.

Everyone knew that, but now this was not the case Sherlock was scared. He needed to tell John but he knew that he couldn't.

Sherlock shook himself from his thoughts when he heard the stairs creaking and John walking down them. Sherlock quickly glanced down at his trousers and sighed in relief when he saw that his member had disappeared. Thank god for Anderson! He never thought he would say that.

"I got the thread" John announced as he strode into the room, well he strode to the doorway and then again proceeded to shove all of the cardboard boxes out of his way.

Sherlock gave him the look that said "Don't state the obvious John, I'm not blind!"

"Right, sorry" said John awkwardly as he reached the Detective.

Sherlock observed John as he quickly slipped into Doctor mode. He loved this side of John, his bossiness was cute. Wait Sherlock thought, cute? He had never used this word in his life. He meant admirable, yes his bossiness was admirable. That didn't work and Sherlock knew it, but he didn't really care anymore.

Mycroft had once said that caring wasn't an advantage. At the time Sherlock had, for once, agreed with him. But now he knew first hand that caring was an advantage, in many ways.

Whenever John was in danger Sherlock was scared, no that was an understatement, Sherlock was petrified. He hadn't known it before but being scared made his unique brain work quicker, the cogs sped up and he figured out the puzzle twice as quickly as before, when he had a heart of steel. This did not mean that the Detective put John in danger, no, never. He would never purposely put his beloved blogger in trouble. He would rather die than have John hurt. He now often referred to the words he spoke to the serial killer taxi driver. "Bitterness is a paralytic; love is a far more vicious motivator."

Sherlock gasped at a sudden tugging pain in his arm. He looked down and saw that John's sewing needle was half embedded into his skin.

"Sorry Sherlock, I did tell you, I presumed you were in your mind palace" Said John guiltily.

"No it's fine, just a shock that's all" He replied upset with himself that he had made John feel guilty.

"So what were you thinking about?" John queried with a smirk. Sherlock knew that he thought of this as his turn to interrogate.

"Nothing" answered the detective with a smirk of his own. "Nothing at all."

"Well I know that's a lie. You're always thinking of something."

Sherlock smiled a genuine smile that he only ever, on rare occasions, allowed John to see. His blogger knew him so well.

"Well if you must know I was cleaning out my mind palace" He said his face emotionless once again, he knew that if he showed any emotion, John would figure out that Sherlock was lying.

"Cleaning it out?" John repeated, one eyebrow raised.

"Well I don't think I will need that information on 243 types of tobacco ash anymore."

"See I was right, I'm always right Sherlock and you know it!"

"I wouldn't say always John"

"Hmm fair enough, most of the time?" said John hopefully and Sherlock chuckled from deep in his throat.

"Because I'm feeling kind" Sherlock replied and John scowled at him. Sherlock could see his mouth was turned up ever so slightly, the Doctor was trying not to smile.

Sherlock was captivated by the Johns beautiful eyes and couldn't help but stare. They were a beautiful chocolate brown colour and Sherlock was completely mesmerized.

John seemed to be equally enraptured by Sherlock's icy blue ones. There was no noise in the kitchen, just the sound of both men's sped up heartbeat and breathing. After 20 seconds of staring Sherlock cleared his throat and looked away from John reluctantly, breaking the spell that seemed to have taken over the Detective and the Doctor.

"Um John you couldn't finish these stitches could you?" Asked Sherlock, voice husky from lust. "It's just, I er, well, thought I might tidy up a bit in here."

"You, tidy up? I wish." Said John in surprise, voice equally husky.

"Anything for you John, anything for you." Sherlock said and at this simple sentence John went bright red, ducked his head and carried on with his flat mates stitches.