So hi! I'm back with Reasons chap 3. I honestly don't know how long this is going to run on for. Just until I run out of fluffy ideas I guess. Anyway it's getting hard to actually word the reasons into a sentence. Like, the love they have more or less goes without words but I'm trying. So here we go, and as always, please review! :D
-Reasons
3. Sherlock is always right when it comes to matters of fact and fiction. He doesn't generally care for opinions (especially others) because lets face it, to have an opinion on something usually means wasting a lot of unnecessary time becoming familiar enough with something unimportant to care one way or another about it. This has caused quite a few arguments between the detective and his blogger. For instance, John doesn't care for Sherlock's tendency to leave body parts in the refrigerator. ("Well where else am I supposed to put them?" "Anywhere as long as it's not next to the bloody eggs!") But this has not stopped him from doing so.
It's been a few days since John has rescued the half drowned kitten (that Sherlock may like a bit more than he'd ever let on) from the streets of London and he wants to discuss naming it.
"Why do we have to name it? It's not a person. It's just a cat. Call it cat."
"We have to give it a name Sherlock." The creature of interest is lying on the couch at this point, quite disinterested in the conversation. "If you don't give me any suggestions I swear I'll start calling it Anderson." This earns the doctor a glare from the detective.
"To hassle such a name onto the creature would be deplorable. Although I suppose they have a similar amount of intelligence." He glances at the kitten which yawns and turns away from him. "Point made." John rakes a hand through his hair, getting more than a little irritated.
"For Christ's sake Sherlock! You have to at least have an opinion!" The tall man is quiet for a moment.
"No not really. Unless." He brightens. "Let's name it Science!" And almost instantly he can see the rejection in John.
"No. Absolutely not." There's a flicker in his eyes that tells Sherlock that John is amused to see him throw out a suggestion like that.
"Why not? It's something we both enjoy is it not?" He really doesn't care one way or another but there is a odd enjoyment to be found in teasing (although he loathes to use this word it's really the only one that would fit) John in this manner.
"Fine. Whatever Sherlock, you win." From the lack of tension in his shoulders, the detective could tell John wasn't making a huge sacrifice.
"Well than, you really should be off to the store John. We don't have any cat food. And we need some. For Science!" And the look on his face tells Sherlock that maybe having an opinion on small things might be worth it.
Or perhaps not.
"SHERLOCK WHAT IN THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY BEDROOM?!" Ah he had been waiting for that. But he gave the doctor no mind as he stormed down into the kitchen of the flat. "Seriously. What the fuck? What gave you the right?"
"I've no idea what you're talking about."
"Don't give me that! Would you just, put that down and look at me for a moment?" Sherlock sighs and sets the steaming beaker down on the table.
"This is time sensitive, what is so important?" Oh perhaps he's pushed too far. John's heart rate has increased and his face is turning red.
"Time sensitive? Are you kidding me?" The detective stares at the beaker for a moment.
"I suppose." He proceeds to pour the entire thing on the floor. A hissing sound follows along with some green smoke. When it clears, there is a new rut in the floor, the liquid having eaten away at the tile. John throws his hands in the air.
"Honestly what was that for?! Mrs. Hudson will have a fit." Sherlock ignores this and turns back to the doctor.
"Now, what is the big deal you've insisted on screaming at me about?" John's face has turned red again and his hand has stopped shaking. Interesting. He's honestly contemplating punching something, although Sherlock really doesn't worry about it being himself.
"My bedroom you tall git. Everything is gone. Everything. My clothes, books, even my mattress! What have you done with it all?" Oh right. He assumed he'd eventually have to explain that.
"I actually set fire to your mattress a few hours ago but I assume that's not the major issue here." The shock in John's eyes actually takes the anger away for a second. But only a second.
"Set fire to my...? Why on Earth would you do that?"
"Because you don' need it. I've moved everything else into my room. I think it's better that way. It's my... opinion." By this point the detective had walked away from the doctor but the shorter man is quiet for so long he actually feels obligated to turn back around.
"Your... opinion. Into your room. Why?" John's voice is quiet. The anger is gone but his heart rate has skyrocketed. Sherlock can see the pulse point on his neck going erratic.
"Yes. You were too far away. When you demand I sleep, which is far more than necessary by the way, I do so much better when I know you are around." He says this simply because it is. A simple fact. When John is in the flat, Sherlock can relax as much as possible for him. When John forces him to bed after three days because an unusually complicated case has kept him awake (the maid, honestly how didn't he see?) it's only when he knows for a fact that the doctor isn't leaving the flat that he can sleep. Bodily functions, as much as he wishes he could will them away, are something he must deal with and having John enforce them makes it a bit easier.
"But... that means's we'll be sleeping together." The near blush that Sherlock sees him trying to fight is oddly endearing. "As in, the same bed. And you're alright with that?"
"Why wouldn't I be? It's you John and for some reason you make things different. If you like, we can move Science's bed in there as well. It will be like a party." Small jokes, John is fond of these and it diffuses the tension that had suddenly appeared in the air.
"And all because this is your opinion? You know that's not quite right. Normal people usually discuss opinions before moving bedrooms." The tall man shrugs.
"John when have I ever put off the notion of being normal?" The doctor smiles.
"I suppose I'll allow this overbearing opinion of yours." Sherlock gives no reaction because he knew John would have no real issue with this. Regardless of however "not gay" John says he is, he is in a much similar situation as the detective finds himself in. With each other, everything is different. Exceptions are made. John is Sherlock's exception, the only major one he has ever really allowed. And this is yet another reason he finds he loves John Watson.