"Go take a shower!" Sherlock demanded.
"O-o-ok," john mumbled.
"Why did you stand out in the rain for so long?" Sherlock questioned in an exasperated tone, "You'll get a cold now! Take a warm shower and dry off thoroughly. Then we need to talk."
"Y-yes, Sh-sherlock," John sputtered, shivering violently.
He quickly stripped and jumped in the shower, loving the feel of warm water flowing down his cold body. I wonder why Sherlock isn't cold. Maybe he is he just wanted me to take a shower first? Hmm. I don't know if vampires get cold…I should ask Sherlock. John let his thoughts drift around as he washed his body. Once finished he used three towels to "dry off thoroughly" as Sherlock had instructed. He looked around dumbly for a moment, before realizing he hadn't brought clothes with him. I am utterly hopeless. He groaned.
"Sh-sherlock?" john called out.
Within two seconds the bathroom door was open and Sherlock was standing there.
"Yes John?" he looked down, "Why are you naked?"
"I f-forg-got m-my cl-clothes," John murmured.
"Oh, right," Sherlock nodded.
He swiftly left John and retrieved some clothes. He returned and threw them at John, who fumbled, trying to catch them. Then he left John to it, closing the door with a snap. John looked at the clothes. There were shorts and a long sapphire colored silk shirt that wasn't his. This isn't my shirt. Maybe it's Sherlock's. Duh, it's Sherlock's. Who else would it belong to, idiot? He probably couldn't find a shirt, john thought. He pressed the shirt to his nose and breathed deeply. It smelled faintly of some sort of spice. John closed his eyes and breathed in as much of Sherlock as he could. Then he shook his head and chuckled softly at himself. He's in the other room, silly. He quickly slipped on the clothes and shuffled out of the bathroom.
"Sh-sherlock," John said, "Wh-why d-did you g-give m-me y-your sh-shirt?"
Sherlock looked up to see the lovely sight of John wearing his shirt. It almost reached his knees and the sleeves hung well past his hands. Now I know why straight men like their girls to wear their shirts. He looks adorable!
"All you have are school uniforms," Sherlock replied, "And a few hideous jumpers. Anyway, come sit. We need to talk about some things."
John shuffled over and sat on his bed, facing Sherlock.
"First of all," Sherlock started, "I know you read the part in the vampire mythology book about the sexual aspect of a Link. While I am grateful for your concern, you must never think that you have to have sex with me."
"I-I w-wanted to," John protested, "I w-was j-just n-nervous."
"I'm glad," Sherlock said, "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. This brings me to my second point. I feel must apologize again about the lubrication. You were just so enticing that I forgot myself. It will not happen again."
"I-it's ok," John assured him, "I d-don't l-like it anyw-way."
"You don't like lubrication?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him.
"I-it's s-slimy," John wrinkled his nose in disgust.
"I see," Sherlock said thoughtfully, "Ah, which reminds me of the third thing I want to talk to you about. I think you may have mysophobia."
"Wh-what?" John asked in confusion.
"More commonly known as germaphobia," Sherlock responded, "However, I think it may also only be linked to your PTSD. I noticed that as soon as you could think again, you immediately washed yourself and me. You also took off your sheets. People don't necessarily do that normally. I also noticed that you are very clean. You shave your arse, John. I don't know anyone who does that. I think that the dirtiness reminds you of what has happened to you and you subconsciously try to stop it from triggering an attack by cleaning yourself thoroughly. Hair is often associated with dirtiness, so you shave. I can see the logic. Mysophobia can be triggered by emotional trauma, so it is likely that the events in your past have caused you to become mysophobic."
"Oh," john said in a small voice.
He hadn't even ever thought about it before. He just did what he did and didn't question why. Am I germaphobic? I don't think so…I mean….maybe…I do clean myself a lot…john let his thoughts wander to his excessive cleanliness, the way he'd scrubbed himself raw the morning after those boys had attacked him. He thought that was just normal….he'd actually swallowed toothpaste in the hope that it would clean his throat and insides. Yeah, I don't think that's normal…
"It's no big deal, John," Sherlock assured him, "Just something to be aware of. I think it's important to know such things about yourself and know if you want to change it or not."
"I-I do," John said firmly, "I-I w-want to ch-change i-it."
"I'll do some research, John," Sherlock said, "We'll fix it. I'll help you every step, ok?"
"O-ok," John smiled.
"Yes, and your stutter," Sherlock said, clapping his hands, "It's psychosomatic, John. That means it originates in your mind. Which means, we can fix it. It's not a normal speech impediment that takes lots of speech therapy. It's something that only exists because you think it has to exist."
John frowned at that. Basically, it's all in my head. Great. That just means I'm crazy.
"I have a way to help fix it, John," Sherlock assured him, "Not today, though. I don't think now is the time. Why don't we just eat that Chinese food, hmm?"
John smiled and nodded at that, getting up to retrieve it. He pulled out several containers. He bought an awful lot of it. Wait. Does he eat? I never thought of that before…John glanced curiously at Sherlock.
"I didn't know exactly what you liked," Sherlock said, "So I bought all sorts of different things. Can you hand me that fried rice?"
John handed it over with a fork. Sherlock immediately delved into it, eating just the same as a normal human being. Hmm. I guess he does eat. John picked out some delicious looking noodles and sat down to eat them. He slurped them up happily, without a thought to manners.
"It's cute how you slurp them up," Sherlock said brightly, "I enjoy watching you eat."
John blushed and tried to just focus on eating and not Sherlock's piercing stare. I wonder who Mycroft is, John thought suddenly. He told him to shove off. Does that mean they don't get along? Is he a vampire too? Are they friends...is he one of the vampires that Sherlock mentioned having sex with? John's eyebrows knit together at that thought. He didn't like to think that he was a jealous person, but the thought that Sherlock may still tall to an ex made John's heart ache in a bad way. He tried to push the thought away, but it persisted, buzzing around in his brain.
Little note: Mysophobia can actually be triggered by emotional trauma. I did my research on that. Thanks for all the support! Love you guys!