Sorry for the belated update guys, my internet wasn't working properly.
But here is the new chapter, I hope you enjoy it! :3
John's thoughts had been going around in circles for hours now – and with them his feelings.
He was nervous and even afraid of what he should do and just couldn't find rest.
He had tried napping, but he had only turned and turned and never really found sleep.
The one time he had dozed off, his mind had continued planning and trying options and in the end, John had woken up even more agitated than before.
The problem was that damn letter.
Yes, Sherlock hadn't really been interested in that woman and had burned it, but it had shown John that there were people out there who would want to go out with Sherlock if he were interested.
So why should Sherlock choose John when there were much better options?
Better looking, more intelligent?
What if there was a second Sherlock Holmes out there, just waiting to meet this one to have their happy ending?
And what if John was just wasting precious time by thinking all this and Sherlock would meet someone tomorrow who he would want to date?
The only thing that kept Sherlock from dating was Sherlock himself.
It was noon already when Lestrade texted and John was happy about finally having something to distract him.
It took them only 5 minutes to get out of their flat and into a cab.
Sherlock was obviously deep in thought and John felt uncomfortable.
He was lucky that Sherlock was obsessed with the case, otherwise he would have noticed in a second that there was something wrong with John and – in another second – known what it exactly was.
John had to do something – and quickly.
Before Sherlock finished the case – which could be any minute after he had had another look on the corpse - and had time to think about other things (like dating).
But John just couldn't bring the topic up when Sherlock was working, that would be the worst possible choice of time.
There were only two possibilities left:
1. Wait until they had another 'break' (Unlikely, and Sherlock would be thinking about the case even then).
2. Do something now, before Sherlock got into the case again.
And sometimes it was best to just push straight ahead and look where it left you.
Well, there was his answer.
One look out of the window: their ride would still take about 10 minutes, possibly longer with the usual traffic at this hour.
One glance at the cabbie: paying attention only to the street, seemingly ignoring his passengers.
One glance at Sherlock: he was looking out of the window, waiting for them to arrive – so not thinking about the case at the moment.
John's heart rate sped up.
It was now or never.
He knew that when the car stopped, Sherlock would be dashing away without as much as a glance back and the chance would be gone.
John closed his eyes for a moment, taking some calming breaths (no use) and willing his stomach and heart to stop acting like crazy (also no use).
When he opened his eyes again, his heart skipped a beat.
He was looking directly into Sherlock's eyes – only a few inches away.
John felt himself blushing.
"Sh-Sherlock!" he stuttered.
"Shhhhhh! You don't want to get the cabbie's attention."
John's mind was razing.
What was happening? Was this real? What the fuck was Sherlock thinking he's doing and – wait what did he just say about the cabbie's attention?!
"You've been behaving strangely since you came back from your date, John, and it had me wondering what was going on in that stupid little brain of yours."
Only Sherlock could make an insult sound so ... endearing and ... fucking sexy.
The blush deepened. "I – I –"
"Tell me, John."
His voice sounded like velvet and John had to bite his lower lip to hold back a breathy moan.
"John."
He found he couldn't answer Sherlock's question. His mind was blank. His heart hammering.
All he could concentrate on was the man towering above him, so fucking close, his smell so clear and just so Sherlock, and that voice saying John's name and making it sound like the most perverted sound ever known to human kind.
He mustn't kiss Sherlock. Not now. They needed to talk first.
"John, I need to know. I'll need to focus completely on the case later and I can't when I can practically hear you thinking all the time. So tell me what's wrong."
John's mind didn't register what Sherlock was saying. All he could hear was his own heartbeat ringing in his ears and all he could see were Sherlock's beautiful lips moving – so close...
How he would love to just pull Sherlock down and kiss him...
"John? John! What's wrong with you? Why are you so flushed? Are you not feeling well?" Sherlock sounded confused and slightly anxious.
And suddenly there was a gentle hand on John's cheek. The touch was nice and felt good on John's overheated skin. He leaned into the touch unconsciously and looked up, directly into Sherlock's worried eyes.
A small smile appeared on John's lips and at once he sat up, took Sherlock's face into his hands and kissed him sweetly on the lips.
It was a passionate, but chaste kiss and if John had been in his right mind, he would have felt Sherlock freezing in shock for a second, but then slowly relaxing into the kiss.
They didn't move much and it was over before it had really started, but John enjoyed being so close to Sherlock, feeling his warmth and his gentle lips against his.
When he pulled away John took a moment to just stare deeply into Sherlock's eyes, his smile and his eyes telling everything he couldn't say out loud.
Then his brain started to kick in and he saw the astonished and confused expression on Sherlock's face. His face fell and he pulled his hands away as fast as he could.
"Oh my god." He swallowed. "Sherlock, I'm – I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"
The taxi stopped. "St. Bartholomew's Hospital."
Sherlock got out of the cab and had disappeared into St. Bart's before John could say another word.
John quickly passed the money to the driver and climbed out of the vehicle.
He felt sick.
This was not the way this had been supposed to happen.
John took a moment just standing there on the pavement. He had to calm down and gather his thoughts.
It would be no use to run after Sherlock, try to explain what happened and along the way let the whole hospital know about it.
Also, he would have to explain to Sherlock what he himself didn't fully understand – and in such a way, that it wouldn't ruin their friendship.
But he really couldn't do that now. Sherlock was most likely working on the case already and it would be no use to disturb him. That would only make things worse.
Best to act as normal as possible.
John began walking and soon found himself outside the door of the morgue.
He took a deep breath and entered.
Sherlock was bent over the corpse of the woman from the crime scene, obviously observing and deducing, not even looking up when John came into the room.
To his right, there was Molly Hooper (as always watching Sherlock with lightly tainted cheeks). John decided it would be best to talk to her and not go near Sherlock and the body.
"Hello Molly."
"Oh John, it's nice to see you – You do not look well, is everything alright? Should I get you a glass of water?"
"No, I'm fine. It's nothing." Except that I'm in love with my mental flatmate who you have a crush on and – oh wait, I kissed that certain flatmate in a cab a few minutes ago and I don't know if our friendship will survive that.
"Are you sure? You're really pale. Sherlock certainly could work without you for a couple of hours."
"No. The case will be finished soon and then I can go and tuck myself into bed."
They started chattering about Molly's new boyfriend (She seemed to try to get over her crush – but not very successfully. And who could understand that better than John?) when something seemed to have caught Molly's eye.
"Oh Sherlock, have you found something?"
John turned around and saw Sherlock standing near the head of the victim, in his gloved fingers a small black object.
He took some steps closer to Sherlock to have a better look.
It was a black origami lotus.
Sherlock's and John's eyes met and he knew they both had the same thought: The Black Lotus.
It was an exact, although smaller, copy of the ones they had found during their investigations from "The Blind Banker".
"Where did you find it?" John asked breathless.
"It was in her mouth." Sherlock sounded neutral, but John could see the excitement in his eyes.
"Why didn't forensics find it? I mean, they examined body, didn't they?"
"Because they are stupid amateurs, you should know that by now, John."
A short silence. Sherlock examined the lotus closer.
"What are we going to do now?" John asked cautiously.
"We go home. I have to examine the samples I took." Sherlock bagged the origami and turned around to the door.
John gave Molly a short nod, she gave him a small smile and Sherlock and John left the morgue together.