Hello lovely people! I'm sorry for this late update, but I've been really busy these last days. As always, one big fat THANK YOU to everyone who is reading this, and especially my new followers/favouriters: fayejames42, wolfairer and wuvesa! :)
The beautiful coverphoto for this story comes from: post/73969292442 , and can also be seen as an artwork for chapter 6!
To Wuthering Wilde: One sentence in this chapter is dedicated to you, I hope you'll find it! ;)
Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this little chapter! Comments/reviews are, as always, very appreciated!
Chapter 11
John woke up to an empty bed, and he immediately got a clench of unease in his stomach. Had it all just been a dream? Was everything that happened last night just a conjuring of his mind? Dreading what he'd find out, he stepped out into the living-room.
Sherlock was on the sofa, smiling widely as he saw John. He raised himself, and deleted all of John's doubt with a soft kiss. "Reality then" John thought, and he couldn't wipe the big smile of his face as he went to put some tea on, and it stayed there all morning.
He was surprised however, when Sherlock started to put his coat on at the same time as John was getting ready to leave for work. "What are you doing?" He asked.
"I am going down to the Yard, Lestrade wants me for something, and I was thinking I might as well accompany you to work." Sherlock said, as if was the most natural thing in the world. John was still surprised though, as Sherlock normally hated to walk when he could take a cab, but he wasn't going to argue, he had still not woken up completely.
They walked in silence, though a rather comfortable one. John was thinking about a million of things at once, but mostly at the man next to him who was now his….boyfriend? No, it felt way too early to put a name on whatever this was. Lost in his trail of thoughts, he jumped when a cold hand suddenly grasped his own. "Sherlock, what are you doing?" John asked startled, looking around them to see if anyone had noticed they were now holding hands.
"I'm holding your hand John. Isn't that what people do?" Sherlock sounded innocent.
"Well…yeah I guess. I just didn't thought you'd want everyone to know about this. People might talk" John replied, a bit hesitant.
Sherlock stopped and put a hand on either side of John's face. "Oh John," he said quietly "People do little else" John smiled a bit at the familiar sentence. "But since when do I care what people think?" Sherlock kissed him, slow and tenderly, and John relaxed.
"I don't care what the others say, when I've found a new game to play." He said, looking straight into John's eyes, making his heart race. "I was talking about you." Sherlock added after a while, afraid that John might think he was referring to a case. But John smiled and just said "I know, Sherlock."
They continued to walk hand in hand to the hospital, and John very reluctantly let go of Sherlock. But he felt lighter than he'd ever done as he stepped inside, mentally preparing to deal with snotty children and over-protective parents.
As he came home that night he ran into Mycroft at the stairs. "Oh good evening Dr. Watson." He said formally. "Mycroft" John said, nodding in a greeting gesture.
"I have just been talking to my dear brother." Mycroft said, as though there would be any other reason for him to be there. John, who always felt a little on edge whenever he met Sherlock's brother just nodded again, hoping Mycroft would get the hint that he wasn't really in the mood for talking. John started to climb the stairs again, when Mycroft spoke. "I am aware that I might not have the right to do this, but I nonetheless feel obligated to warn you, John." John turned and looked at him, questioning. Mycroft continued "I know that you are very fond of my brother, and I am informed that you are no longer just partners in crime." He smiled a bit at his own joke, but John remained neutral, dreading the words that he suspected would come next.
"Sherlock is very dependent on you as well, and I have never seen him more alive than since he met you. If you, however, hurt my brother in any way, I will personally make sure that London is one Doctor short." He proclaimed this obvious threat in an easy voice, as though they had discussed the weather. John just stared at him, not knowing what to say, but he was interrupted by a voice from upstairs. "Mycroft, I swear to God, if you don't shut up and leave John alone I will out you to Mummy at our next Christmas dinner." Sherlock shouted. Mycroft seemed to take him by his words, and with a small nod in John's direction he descended the stairs quickly, and John wasn't sure whether or not he heard Sherlock's sarcastic"Give my love to Lestrade, dear brother. I am quite sure he is just writhing to meet you."
John shook his head, still disbelieving of the "protective-big-brother-speech-thing" Mycroft had just thrown at him. He stepped inside the flat, and immediately had a curly-haired detective on his lips. He found himself pushed against the wall, and he did absolutely nothing to stop it.