John knew that he had to take it slow.
If he would start flirting with Sherlock like he had done with his previous girlfriends, Sherlock would not only notice what he was doing (and even if John hoped Lestrade would win the bet, he doubted it) he would ask John to move out, most likely because he couldn't deal with John being all dull and boring. Or…even more so than he was normally at any rate.
That's why he made a plan. He didn't know how long the plan would take; it all depended on how Sherlock would react to each phase. But it was a plan never the less.
It was a food plan too: within 8 steps he and Sherlock would be together. He called it: Seducing Sherlock Holmes Without Him Noticing It And Then Living Happily Ever After.
Or for short: SSHWHNIATLHEA.
Okay the plan needed another name, but that could come later. Now he would start with step one: showing interest.
"Sherlock, what are you doing?" John saw Sherlock's eyes move rapidly, wondering what he was doing wrong. John smiled; it was quiet endearing to see, and as apparently he was in love with the man supposed he could find it endearing.
Finally Sherlock answered. "An experiment. Even for your little brain, it should be obvious."
"I know that you're doing an experiment, but I was wondering why you are doing an experiment."
Sherlock looked surprised up. Whether it was because John showed interest or that John assumed that there was a purpose for the experiment wasn't clear. "I…uhm, I'm trying to look if I can change the colour of an eye by using certain chemicals, paint and hair colouring. I inject them in the iris and look what happens."
"Any luck so far?"
Again a surprised look.
John started to wonder if he wasn't overdoing it. It seemed small enough to start with, but after all it was Sherlock Holmes we're talking about. Probably nobody ever asked him what he was doing. As long as he didn't blow up anything, he was rather quiet while experimenting. It could be a relief for some, John assumed.
"With most burning chemicals I can change blue into white?" He seemed to question, looking at John warily. He was suspicious to say the least. He couldn't quite fathom what was going on…John never took an interest in his work, unless it was for a case that he was involved with. He never paid any attention much to whatever he did to cure his boredom. Other than when it involved his coffee mug, the fridge or the flat in general.
John took a chair and went to sit next to Sherlock. He wasn't going to stop now. "Show me, please?"
Sherlock almost dropped his pipette from shock. He stuttered slightly, his dark coloured eyes wide and almost childlike with the expression. "You want to see what I'm doing?"
"Well yes. I want to know you." John said. "I don't ever want to doubt again. Ever." He added silently. But of course Sherlock heard it. He was like a bat in that way.
Silence reigned for some seconds. They hadn't talked much about Sherlock's return, nor anything that happened before or after it. John had punched him in the face; Sherlock apologised; John apologised and then they had stopped talking about it.
"You believed in me." The detective murmured.
"Yes, I did. But only because I wanted to." The doctor answered, leaning against the side of the messy table with his hands behind him. Open expressions. "If we hadn't been such good friends at the time of doubt, my doubt would have taken over. And I don't ever won't to feel the same way again."
Sherlock didn't answer, but he gave John a pair of spectacles and poured some HCl (John could read what was on the bottle) on the eyes ball. Its iris turned slowly into white.
"It's…amazing, Sherlock." John said in slight awe, leaning forwards slightly with a medical hardened intrigue on his face. "So what is the use of this?"
"I don't know." Sherlock shrugged as if it was obvious. "To keep me occupied?"
John rolled his eyes. "Well, in that case, you can label it as a lifesaving discovery." John grinned.
"Well do you know a better function then? You helped as well." Sherlock pouted slightly, his long curls looking almost shadowy around the innocent expression. Tainting.
John looked at the consulting detective, swallowing a sudden mouthful of saliva. The man looked good, even in the middle of his explanations. Especially during the explanations. "I didn't help, but thanks for saying it anyway, and I don't mind it not having a function if it'll keep you quiet."
John all but ran back to the living room giggling when Sherlock glared at him. It was so worth it.
-xxx-
"It was the son!"
John looked up from his conversation with Lestrade. He was just getting him up to date with Wooing Sherlock (it sounded way better than SSHWHNIATLHEA, he had to admit that). Since that the night two weeks ago, when John had put his plan into action for the first time, Sherlock had come to John sometime to ask if he wanted to help. John helped just as much as that first time, meaning they would sit at the kitchen table together; Sherlock would do his experiment and John would ask what he was doing.
Sherlock seemed to enjoy it. After all, genius needs an audience.
"How did you know?" John immediately asked, not letting any chance pass to work on WS.
"He was stabbed in the stomach. Women don't stab. They poison, they strangle, they might even hit, but they don't stab. It takes to much force to cause a deathly stab. So a man. Then the fact that he is wearing his pyjamas indicates that he knew the killer. He just moved over here..."
"How do you know he just moved?" John asked. There weren't any boxes and the house seemed to be filled with al kind of useless mess.
"He has flower wallpaper." Sherlock said with an expression of disgust glancing at the walls, which had indeed a deep green colour with huge pink and white flower. "He recently got divorced."
"Missing ring and white stripe around the finger?"
"I'm glad to see that you're learning something from me." Sherlock said approvingly, that smirky smile on his face. "It's always good to know that there is someone who isn't an idiot. Or at least not a complete one." He added when everybody looked at him, shock clearly written over their faces. "So yes, recently divorced. Only one child at the photos, who's a boy. So why flower wallpaper? He had just moved in and didn't have the time nor the money to change it. Therefore he certainly didn't have the time to make new friends. So who did he know well enough to let them in, in his pyjama? His wife and son. I explained in the beginning why it couldn't be the wife, so the son had to be the murderer. Case closed."
"Amazing." John said without fault.
Sherlock seemed to puff up, nodding to the doctor. "Thank you John, you did very well yourself. I'm almost impressed."
"If you two are done with your little foreplay, I would like to mention that the case isn't solved. We don't have any evidence." Lestrade interrupted, crossing his arms to look at the detective and the doctor pointedly.
Sherlock made his annoyed face (yes he knew Sherlock's different faces, all good friends did right? Okay, it was stupid he didn't notice how he felt about Sherlock before.) "Weapon in the garbage bin behind the son's house; fingerprints still on it and I'm sure he will confess he did it the moment you asked. He's an absolute amateur."
"Motive?"
Without even a pause to so much as blink, the consulting detective answered. "Son's a junkie. Look how much weight he has lost at the recent pictures. He asked for money, father refused to give it to him, knowing to what he would spend it en you know how dull junkies can react."
"Brilliant."
"Thank you John." Sherlock gave John one of his rare, genuine smiles.
The doctor beamed, looking at Sherlock. It was…he had started smiling more recently. Nearly all of them were directed at him. WS was a good plan, but…it was one that was really working. Sherlock was opening up. "Let's go home." John said happily.
"Hungry?" Sherlock grinned.
John nodded pointedly. "Starving. Where would you like to go?"
"It doesn't matter for me. I'm not eating anyway."
"First of all: I don't want you to get bored and start insulting costumers, not matter how amusing it might be and secondly; yes you are eating. You're not on a case so you have no excuse. Now choose." John said firmly, looking up at the taller man.
Sherlock smiled slyly. "Angelo's then?"
"As you wish." John obliged.
And off they went on another great adventure; actually getting Sherlock to eat something, rather than just saying it, but nonetheless! A great adventure indeed.