"Hey, did you read the latest story by SJComposer76?" Sally asks, walking up to stand next to John as he watches Sherlock examine a body.
"I'm sorry?" John says, arching an eyebrow.
"Don't play stupid with me. You don't have the face for it."
John's not sure if that's a compliment or not and he can't stop a slight smile. Sally shakes her head at him.
"You read the site. I know you do."
"And if I do?"
"I'm not making fun of you, John. I really wanted your opinion."
John laughs at the absurdity of this conversation.
"You want to know what I think about a story that has me shagging my flatmate?"
"I wanted your opinion on the writing. It's a new author who has only been writing for a few months. But I liked the style."
"Which story is this?" Dimmock asks, walking up.
"The new one by SJComposer76."
"Is that the one where John saves Sherlock from falling off a cliff?"
"Right," Sally says. "But Sherlock hits his head and while he's out of it, he tells John he loves him."
"You know, that one was actually pretty good. I've added the author to my favorites list."
"Is that the same writer that did the story where I was shot saving Sherlock and he thinks I'm dying so he tells me how he feels?" John asks, frowning.
"Yes." Sally nods. "And they did the one where you and Sherlock go to Pakistan to save that woman." ($)
"Right. I really enjoyed that one."
John hears a quiet snort come from Sherlock and he suddenly realizes how insane this conversation really is. He shakes his head wondering when his life became all about shagging Sherlock, fictional or chimerical and he moves over to kneel across from Sherlock, leaving Sally and Dimmock discussing other stories.
"Sorry about that," John says quietly.
"About what?" Sherlock looks up at John, quirking an eyebrow.
"That discussion. I didn't mean to embarrass you."
"What makes you think you did?"
"Nothing," John says, trying to gauge Sherlock's reaction. "But it must be strange for you to hear people so casually discussing…us, in a romantic context."
"John, you know I've read the stories on that site. I've even read a couple of them out loud to you."
"Yeah, but those were the friendly adventure ones. And that's different from me standing over there chatting about it with other people."
Sherlock smiles at John.
"I appreciate you trying to protect my sensibilities, John, but you needn't worry. I trust that you aren't making fun of me or trying to humiliate me. And I remind you that you are in these stories as well. If anyone should be mortified, I would think it would be you."
"Why would you say that?" John asks, frowning.
"You have to spend half your time reiterating that you are not, in fact, gay, and all these stories do pair you with me. Not only am I not your preferred gender, but really, John, if you were to pick a male sexual partner, I cannot envisage any scenario where it would be me. You have better taste than that."
"Don't do that," John says, shaking his head. "Don't put yourself down like that. You might not be everyone's first choice for a boyfriend, but anyone would be lucky to have you."
"Even you?" Sherlock asks, a teasing smile playing around his lips.
"We'd have to negotiate that," John says, his expression very serious. "You do, after all, steal my things and drink all the milk."
Sherlock stares at John for a minute, then they both break out into helpless laughter, completely ignoring the odd looks they get from the police.
Later that night, John tries not to replay that exchange as he's going to sleep. This is decidedly different than stories and he knows it's crossing a huge line to wax romantic over actual encounters with Sherlock. But as much as he tells himself this, he can't seem to help himself and he falls asleep reliving the sound of Sherlock's laughter.
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John shuts the lid to his laptop, shaking his head. He gets up and starts pacing the sitting room, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. This has got to be the most ludicrous moment of John's entire existence. He's actually angry over a story.
And oddly, it's not the fact that he's livid over fiction that makes him feel foolish, but rather the reason for his ire. It wasn't the plot and it's not even the requisite sex scene. What has John swearing under his breath is who is involved in the sex scene. This story pairs Sherlock with Lestrade and while John didn't think anything of it when he started reading, it became something entirely different when he actually read the first kissing scene.
When he saw the description of Lestrade's tongue in Sherlock's mouth, something angry and possessive rose up in John and irrationally, he fought the urge to call Lestrade and tell him to keep his hands off Sherlock. John would laugh at himself if it wasn't all so completely pathetic.
He has no idea when his feelings for Sherlock changed but he can't deny that they have. He'd pretend he doesn't know why, but that's a complete lie. Somehow, by reading how other people see them, John's been able to clarify for himself how he sees Sherlock. It seemed only natural when reading something that struck John as wrong, to think, "Sherlock would never say that. He's too controlled." or "Sherlock's too brilliant to make that mistake." Rather like Sherlock says he does at crime scenes with John's failed deductions, people's false conceptions of Sherlock allow John to focus on what he knows and loves about the man more clearly. Sherlock has gone from being a friend, colleague, and mad flatmate, to an amazing, brilliant, funny, charming, engaging, damn sexy man and John has to admit he's lost his heart along the way.
Not that it matters, because Sherlock is still Sherlock and the only way he'd ever notice John as more than a skull replacement would be if John was a victim at a crime scene. But John is used to wanting things he'll never have and this isn't any different. As long as he has Sherlock in his life in some way, John is happy, though he does make a mental note to check the pairing on any story before he reads it.
He just hopes he can keep from glaring the next time he sees Lestrade.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Do you have a screen name yet?" Sally asks, looking up from her clipboard.
"On the community?" John asks. He's kneeling next to the body of a woman in a back alley, examining the bruises on her arms. Some part of John's mind wonders what it says about him that he knows exactly what Sally is talking about. "Why would I get one?"
"So you can add comments? Or maybe put up your own stories?"
"You don't think there'd be something weird about commenting on stories about myself? And what would I say? 'I would never shag Sherlock that way. We much prefer it with him behind me.' Which was sarcasm, by the way," John says when Sally arches an eyebrow. "We don't prefer it any way, because we aren't sleeping together."
"It might be odd if people knew it was you, but how would they? You just get a screen name that has nothing to do with you."
"But I'd know it was me." John shakes his head, trying to put his feelings into words. "I've gotten used to reading these things and honestly, they don't really bother me. It's kind of cool to be a character and get to live out these adventures. It's like having my own personal storybook. But if I start commenting on them…I don't know, maybe that makes them more…"
"Real?" Sally asks.
"I was going for personal, but yeah, that too. And then I have to take a look at what I'm saying about my life and Sherlock."
"What are you saying about Sherlock?" Sally asks, arching an eyebrow at John again.
John doesn't take the bait. He shakes his head and laughs.
"That my crazy flatmate will have a fit if I don't have my observations ready when he gets here."
"Oh, I wouldn't say fit," the deep voice drawls from behind him. "I haven't had a full blown fit since I shot the wall."
"You couldn't have told me he was there?" John asks, rolling his eyes at Sally.
Sherlock kneels down next to John.
"Do you have a cause of death for me or should I take another stroll down the street?" Sherlock's tone is sarcastic, but John sees the amusement in his eyes.
"If you aren't nicer to me, I'll make you wait for Anderson's report," John replies, fighting a smile.
"You wouldn't dare! I won't be responsible for my actions if you do." Sherlock grins at him. "Seriously, John, how did this woman die?"
John chuckles. He thinks he should be surprised how natural all this feels, how domestic their interaction is, which is odd, considering it's a crime scene and there's a dead woman. But their relationship has never been normal and friendly banter over corpses is typical for them.
John looks up to see Sherlock full on smiling at him and he's struck by how amazing Sherlock looks, relaxed and happy, his hair wind blown, his eyes sparkling and if John had any doubts that he's lost his heart to his mad flatmate, they are resolved right this second. John probably stares just a little too long, because Sherlock's eyebrow goes up and he tilts his head in a question.
"Right," John says, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks. He looks down at the body. "She's been dead about seven hours and she was strangled."
John goes on and Sherlock nods in approval as he follows all of John's observations and John tries not to feel so pleased about it.
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Things become a bit strained between them after the Baskerville adventure. John wants to put all the blame on Sherlock, but if he's honest, he knows that's not true. Yes, Sherlock did think he was drugging John and he left him alone and scared just to prove a theory, but John left Sherlock alone and scared too. It just took him longer and a very blunt piece of fan fiction to realize it.
About a week after his blog post about the Hound, John is skimming through fan fiction descriptions on the community when he comes across one called, I thought You Were My Friend. The summary says that it's Sherlock's thoughts about the argument they had in the pub and John finds himself intrigued.
What he reads has him frowning and wondering how close to the truth the writer got. It starts before John sits down to talk to Sherlock, having Sherlock worried and doubting himself. When John arrives, Sherlock admits to seeing the hound and being frightened and John, not really knowing how to deal with it, tries to calm him with logic. But, just as in the real incident, logic didn't work and Sherlock gets more and more upset until he lashes out at John. John gets upset and says angry things back and walks out, leaving Sherlock to deal with his emotional upset on his own.
It wasn't exactly what happened, but it's close enough to make John feel guilty. Did he abandon Sherlock when he needed John the most? John looks across the room to see Sherlock sitting on the sofa, typing on his laptop. He can't stop himself from asking.
"Sherlock?
"Hm?" Sherlock looks up, his expression quizzical. After a second, his eyes grow concerned and he frowns. "John, what's wrong?"
"It's nothing…just…" John pauses, not sure how to go on.
"Story?" Sherlock asks.
"How did you…"
"You're on you computer, but you aren't typing, so you aren't updating your blog or sending e-mail. You prefer to get your news from the paper and the television, so you wouldn't be reading news sites. For you to sit that long reading, you must be on the fan fiction site."
John nods, not sure how to respond to that. Sherlock tips his head, looking at him.
"Which story has you that upset, John?"
"It's…the one about our fight in Dartmoor."
"Ahh. That was oddly accurate. I do wonder how these writers know so much about our lives. Not all of that information was on your blog, you know."
"So it was right?"
"Which part?"
"About how you felt?"
"Oh, that. A bit, but it wasn't really relative to the case."
"I know, but…" John looks at Sherlock, trying to understand what his friend is feeling. "Did I hurt you that night? By walking out like that?"
"I hurt you first, John," Sherlock says quietly. John notices that he didn't answer the question.
"I didn't…I just…"
"I know, John. I shouldn't have intimated that you weren't my friend."
"But that's how you felt right then, didn't you?" John asks, suddenly understanding. "You expected me to know what was wrong and help you and I left you."
"I was being irrational and I lashed out at you, which really wasn't fair."
"But I wasn't really being fair either, was I? You were frightened and confused and I thought you needed a mental reset, so I dismissed you and tried to send you to bed."
"You tried to calm me down, John. You know I work by logic and you tried to reassert my logic for me. I was just too unsettled to realize that."
"I should have understood that. But I'm just so used to you being unemotional that seeing you driven by emotions threw me."
"I know, John. I don't blame you."
"But you were hurt by my walking out, weren't you?"
"A bit. But I completely understand, John."
"I'm sorry," John says quietly. "I was hurt when you said that I wasn't your friend, after everything we've been through. But I should have understood that you said it because that's how you felt right at that moment, not because you were trying to offend me."
"You have nothing to apologize for, John," Sherlock says, his expression very serious. "But I appreciate that you care enough to do so."
"Of course I care," John says indignantly. "Probably more than you'd like me to."
John almost panics for a second, thinking he might have revealed more than he wanted to. But Sherlock merely smiles.
"You might be surprised, John. I've come to appreciate your companionship."
"Well, good, because I'm not planning on going anywhere." He looks down at his laptop. "It's really disturbing that it took me reading a story to understand what happened."
"It is rather disconcerting that the fan fiction has taken such prominence in our lives. Though I think I'm more troubled that these 'fans' know so much about us. If I didn't know better, I'd think they've hacked into Mycroft's security system."
"I suppose that's better than thinking Mycroft is writing some of these stories."
"You had to say it, John, didn't you?" Sherlock makes a face. "You know I'm going to be thinking about that the next time I read one, don't you?"
"Keep that in mind if you ever read the Mycroft and Lestrade pairing," John says, fighting a smile.
"That is wrong on so many levels," Sherlock says, shaking his head. "I can't even think about Mycroft…no. And you are horrible for putting that image in my head. I hope I can delete it before I talk to Lestrade again."
John chuckles as Sherlock goes back to typing. He definitely feels better about things between them and he fights the urge to register on the site and leave a thank you note.