Chapter came out a bit longer than I thought it would, and went in a whole different direction. It's Mycroft's fault! Thank you to everyone who has favorited/followed! You folks make me want to add more, and that turns into long chapters like this! Next chapter will probably be the first to directly cross over with my other fic, the James Bond/Q side of this story. The characters are getting ready to fry my brain I think. :D
As before, please review, they make me happy!
They eat, and John pulls on a jumper again over his t-shirt, they both replace their belts and Sherlock changes his shirt into something less rumpled. Getting changed in front of each other isn't strange for either man. Sherlock walks around in a towel or a sheet half the time, and John was in the Army, for him dressing in front of someone is hardly strange.
And then the tour commences. As expected, there are the kitchens, there are drawing rooms, studies and bedrooms galore, none of which are overly interesting to John, since they all seem the same. But then Sherlock starts to get to the more interesting things. "And this is the library of course, quite extensive. My mother is a voracious reader, she enjoys scientific journals as much as novels." The detective explains as he steps into the room.
The library itself was massive, with what appeared to be two levels, and ladders here and there to get between them, but also to get to the various shelves. Every inch was covered with books, some upright and across the shelves, but there were books on top of books, all very neat and not yet spilling out onto the floor, but it looked as if that was a short step away.
"Bloody hell, Sherlock.. This is.. this is.. the biggest private library I have ever seen.. No wonder you get bored with your books at the flat.." John says quietly as he moves further into the room, shaking his head a little as he steps past the detective and scans the shelves, finally approaching one to figure out what kind of books are where, what kind of system of organization they have.
As always, Sherlock seems to read his mind, and he steps forward, deciding to do one small experiment, so he moves up very close to john, speaking in a quiet tone, letting his smooth baritone do all the work. "They are organized by topic, then alphabetically by author's last name." He chuckles a little. "It can be a little difficult if you've never been through before, since nothing is really labeled."
Sherlock enjoys watching the way that John subtly tenses for a moment when he senses the detective behind him, and then relaxes when he starts talking, even unconsciously swaying back toward him just a little. Slowly, John stretches out a hand and touches the spines of some of the books in front of him.
Whether it's because it's a library or because the younger man is so close behind him, John isn't sure, but he ends up speaking quietly. "This is amazing, Sherlock. I could spend weeks in here. No wonder you delete unimportant things, you could have learned so much from reading these books. I'm sure half of it is absolutely useless." Glancing over his shoulders, blue eyes meet mercurial blue-green, the army doctor smiling in the way that makes his eyes crinkle around the edges a little.
"Precisely." Sherlock breathes as he looks down at John, clasping his hands firmly behind his back, smiling a little as he looks down at his friend, finding himself leaning forward just slightly toward him.
"Ah. Decided to give Dr. Watson the tour, Sherlock?" As always, the tall man with the auburn hair and 3-piece suit chose the worst time to interrupt. Mycroft steps into the room slowly with a book in hand, walking over to slide it expertly back where it belongs.
Bristling at the arrival of his brother, Sherlock straightens and turns to send his brother a glare as he steps away from John. "Yes. I thought it an appropriate way for us to spend our time. Seeing as there is nothing else for me to accomplish here." He takes another step away from John, subtly putting himself between the army doctor and his brother.
For his part, the army doctor just rolls his eyes a little, shaking his head and letting the eldest brothers get their bickering over with before the party. "Good evening to you, too, Mycroft." he notes in a slightly annoyed tone. he noticed that Sherlock was leaning toward him and he's not sure what it was going to mean but he did not want to be interrupted just then.
Mycroft tsks a little. "Little brother, why must you treat being here like such a chore? You would break Mummy's heart if she heard you talking like that." He points out in his condescending way as he looks over at his brother, picking another book off the shelf before he takes a few steps closer. "Do you know if Sherrinford has arrived?" he asks casually.
"Mummy knows how I feel about being here. Which is why she used my.. disappearance.. to get me to show up." Sherlock says flatly as he looks at Mycroft. "You know he hates being called by his full name, Mycroft. But yes, if you would deign to lower yourself to asking one of the staff, Charles could have told you that Ford arrived almost an hour before we did. No doubt he is in his room with the person he brought with him." He says casually as he looks over at Mycroft, narrowing his eyes at his brother. "You need to cease your meddling, Mycroft." he snaps as he remembers the reason he's angry at his brother this time.
Since Sherlock seems to be getting a little emotional, John turns and he moves to stand beside his detective, touching his arm lightly as a kind of reassurance for them both before he shifts into parade rest and levels Mycroft with a steady stare. "I will not tolerate any more attempts of yours to meddle, Mycroft. Not on Christmas Eve, and not on Christmas. The least you could do is have a little Christmas spirit and consider your brother's happiness for once. Both of them. I'm sure you're going to try your intimidation routine on whoever your youngest brother has brought. You may want to hold off on that until after Christmas, don't you think? Your mother will probably have enough to say about myself and the other guest of the Holmes Brothers." He says as he continues to watch Mycroft steadily.
"Interesting. But perhaps you are right, Dr. Watson. I apologize if any of my actions have seemed to you to have been.. extreme. I worry about my brothers." He says quietly as he looks between the two, then he smiles. "Loyal to a fault, and extremely protective of my brother. However, I did not understand how very forgiving you were, when we first met." Mycroft says as he looks at the two for a few moments.
This time it's Sherlock who is looking over at John with a concerned expression. He knows that even casual mentions of the Fall, as it's become termed, can upset his flatmate. He watches his back stiffen and shoulders straighten as he pulls himself into full military stance.
"Sherlock explained his reasons, Mycroft." John is very angry now, it shows in his tone, one that he's only used once before when he found out how much Mycroft betrayed his brother to Moriarty. "I understand them, I accept them, even though I didn't, and don't like it, but we've moved past it. I don't understand why you feel the need to poke at old wounds just to see if they'll still bleed. Don't think I've forgotten the part you played in that." He snaps, then he takes a slow, deep breath, turning his head stiffly toward Sherlock, though he doesn't meet his eyes. "I'm going to go for a walk in the back yard. I need some air." He says firmly, that being pretty much a code phrase between the two by now that means John is pissed and needs to walk it off. He does a precise about-face, and then marches out of the library, remembering seeing a back door, he makes his way there and out into the cool afternoon air.
Once John is gone, Sherlock looks sharply at his brother. "Do not bring that up again in front of John, and do not bring it up in front of Mummy." He says in a fierce tone, taking a few steps closer to Mycroft, his fury obvious in his normally impassive face. "If you ruin Christmas for John or I, or Ford, I will make your life a living hell, and I am sure that Ford can think of a few ways to cause problems as well." He says in a cold tone, glaring at Mycroft before he says, "I don't see how Anthea puts up with you. But you're both so cold, maybe you deserve each other." That is a blow below the belt, and Sherlock knows it, but he's too angry right now to censor himself. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go make sure my flatmate is alright." He doesn't even give Mycroft a chance to reply, he just turns and slams open the nearest door to sweep out of it. He's never wanted to hit his eldest brother so much in his life. John would be proud of him for restraining himself.
When he finally gets to the door, he realizes that neither of them had their jackets, and it's raining outside. He doesn't know how long it's been raining, but he knows that in his state, John wouldn't care. He probably would welcome the cold rain to try and cool himself down. The cold rain is also not good for his bad shoulder, the detective knows. Moving swiftly through the house, Sherlock grabs the nearest large umbrella he sees and goes into the backyard with it. "John!" He calls, looking around. Too late, he realizes that neither of them were even wearing shoes. And the ground is very icy and cold. It takes longer than it should to find John underneath a tree, soaked through. Long enough for Sherlock's feet to be mostly numb from the cold. It's obvious that the doctor is just as cold, but too stubborn to go in.
"John.." Sherlock says in relief as he walks over, holding the umbrella over both of them. "I'm sorry about Mycroft. He won't bother us again." he says quietly, before he shakes his head. "Come inside, John. It's freezing out here and you're soaked through. Your shoulder will be aching later if we don't get you into a hot shower. As a doctor, you should know how easily hypothermia can set in." Alright, so maybe Sherlock is being a little dramatic, but he really is very worried.
John's jaw tightens as he grits his teeth together to keep them from chattering. Looking up at Sherlock's worried eyes, he nods stiffly before he starts walking back toward the house. He doesn't even object when the lanky bastard put his arm around John to guide him into the house, up the back stairs and back to their room quickly.
The umbrella is abandoned just inside the door, and as soon as they get into their room, Sherlock goes and turns the shower on as hot as it can go, returning with a few fluffy towels. "Come on, you need to get out of those clothes."
John doesn't even object when Sherlock, in his concern, starts helping John undress. He knows that Sherlock has never seen him without a shirt completely before, and he should be a little self-conscious about that, especially considering the scar on his shoulder, but he's too cold and apparently Sherlock is too worried to take not of it, because before he knows it, he's bare-chested, and being rubbed down with a fluffy, warm towel that is pulled tight around his shoulders while deft, violinist's fingers go to work on his belt, removing it from his pants. Needless to say the detective did not think about any sexual connotations to this and really, with Sherlock worried and John freezing it's not as if there were any thoughts of that nature going around. Once John is down to his pants, Sherlock pushes him into the bathroom, stealing the towel back from him. "I trust you can get your pants off and into the shower?" he asks with an arch of an eyebrow and a slightly amused look.
The time in the army was paying off for him more and more today, because John was not shy about his body. Not usually. He was used to being nude around other men, being in his pants around them. The only thing that has changed is the scar from his shoulder makes him slightly more self-conscious about that area. But he's still in good shape, running around London after criminals has ensured that. So with minimal hesitation, John nods and removes his pants, giving Sherlock a good view of his arse before he steps into the shower, shutting the stall door, his teeth starting to chatter despite all attempts to the contrary.
This concerns Sherlock when he hears that, and he curses lightly before he does the only thing he can think of. Body heat is more effective than anything else, so he strips down quickly and steps into the shower behind John, putting his arms around the other man and pressing close. He feels the doctor stiffen in his arms and he sighs. "Shhh, John. Need to keep you warm. Body heat is more effective." He says as he ducks his head a little to keep the spray from getting into his eyes. "We never should have come here." His voice remains as soft as it can be and still heard above the spray of the water, before he rests his face against John's shoulder, his lips pressing into the cool skin lightly.
John is still shivering a little, but he leans back into the warmth of the Sherlock's body, finding himself wanting to turn around and move close, to bury his face against that alabaster skin. But it's going to be awkward enough with them front-to-back, much less the other way around, with them fully nude. So John stays where he is, taking a few deep breaths before he finally speaks. "Not.. your fault. Any of it. I'm glad we came. You're always so.. private. Closed off, especially about your past. It's.. nice. To see this glimpse when you.. can see everything about me at a glance." he manages to get out, tilting his head back against Sherlock's shoulder, his eyes closed, his hands over Sherlock's arms around him.
The small smile that crosses Sherlock's face is felt against John's skin and he nods quietly. "Alright.. Come on, I think we'd best get you out before you get pruney." He says quietly, reaching to shut off the water before he gets out and grabs a towel, quickly drying himself before he helps John out to towel him dry as well. He takes care with his doctor, a little angry that this is their first nude encounter as it were, that's not how it's supposed to be. He's careful drying around the scar, feeling around the back of his shoulder for a moment before he nods. "It doesn't feel too tense or knotted.." he reassures as he finishes drying John off.
Even though he's feeling much warmer, John really should object to being treated by a child, but it's nice to have Sherlock's entire attention on him, so he only blushes a little bit when Sherlock kneels down to dry his legs, putting him level with a part of his anatomy that makes it so that some rather inappropriate images come to mind. He remains standing there as Sherlock goes out and comes back in a pair of boxers, handing a pair to John, which he puts on, frustrated to find his hands are still shaking a little.
"Come on, then." Sherlock finally says and takes John's hand, leading him out into the bedroom, where the bed has been turned down, nudging the other man onto the bed. "It's ok if you fall asleep, I've re-set the alarm to give us time to properly shower and get cleaned up before the party begins." he says as he slides into bed behind his flatmate.
This time John does indulge himself since they are adequately covered, and he turns so that he's face-to-face with Sherlock, sliding his arms around the skinny man before pressing close, burying his face into his shoulder and neck to take in the spicy scent of him while also leeching his warmth.
Surprised for a moment, Sherlock doesn't move, then he slowly folds his arms around John, their legs tangling together in an attempt to be comfortable but also to keep John as close as possible for warmth. Deciding to indulge himself a little, he lifts one hand and runs it through the damp sandy blonde hair that is going more and more gray. He places a soft kiss on the top of John's head and strokes his long-fingered hand through his hair a few more times before sliding his hand slowly down John's back to hold him.
"This isn't so bad." John tries to joke, though it falls a little flat, and his little laugh isn't humorous, more of a huff of breath. "Wonder if I could get you to sleep more this way." he mumbles quietly, the smile heard in his voice as well as felt against the detective's skin.
Sherlock can't help himself, despite the situation, he laughs and tightens his arms around John for a few moments. "You're right, this is rather nice. Perhaps I would not have as much trouble sleeping if someone were there to share my bed. We should do some experiments when we get home, to find out." He offers casually, overjoyed at the thought of John voluntarily sharing a bed with him.
John just chuckles a little, rubbing his slightly stubbly cheek against Sherlock's skin. "Mmm.. Now tha's a s'periment I could get behind." he mumbles, words a little slurred in his sleepiness as his body starts to relax.
For the second time, the detective cannot contain his mirth and he chuckles softly, kissing the top of John's head again.
"You are rather talkative when you're sleepy. Now shut up and go to sleep."