Hello lovely Johnlockians… Is that what we are? Johnlockians? Meh…Whatever. So I hope you guys like this chapter. I am LOVING the feedback you guys are giving, you guys have got some great ideas! I am happy that you find the story sweet, because I was hoping to convey the struggle of these two while also letting them give in a little to what they are feeling. :3 Anyways, enough of my babbling. :P


Chapter 5

John's breath became shallow as he thrust into his bedfellow. The movements were jerky and awkward and John definitely wasn't reaching full orgasm, not yet anyways. He wasn't thinking about what he was doing. He wasn't thinking about his partner. Instead he was thinking about….

"Oh, Sherlock."

Mrs. Hudson said to the stoic man as he stared at the fire and held his violin in his hands carefully. Mrs. Hudson places the cup of tea down on his end table. Sherlock sat quietly waiting for John to come in the door. He had stayed up all night thinking about what John could possibly be doing with his new companion April. Just then Sherlock heard a taxi door shut and the front door downstairs open. Sherlock looked at the clock, 9:00 am.

John slowly opened the front door and closed it quietly. Sherlock must be still asleep. It's much too early for him especially on a Monday morning. He was probably up all night doing experiments or working on a case. John thought to himself. His heart ached at the thought of his friend not getting enough sleep, the doctor part of him always wanted to chastise his friend about the dangers of not getting enough REM sleep. But he knew that the man would just brush him off and continue to do as he pleased. Maybe even staying up later just to spite him. John frowned. He hadn't talked to Sherlock as much the past couple of days, mostly because he was on the verge of acting on his feelings and he couldn't very well do that. He had to be cautious.

He constantly had the urge to be near to Sherlock, to look at him for long moments and to touch him back whenever Sherlock touched his shoulder or arm. Every fiber in him yearned for these things, and he had to fight tooth and nail not to do them. He was terrified at how his friend would react if he made advances. He knew that Sherlock had no issues about people who were gay Hell, Sherlock could be gay himself, John had no idea…But that was the issue. John wasn't gay. He had never in his entire life; ever felt a sexual or emotional attraction to another man. Only friendship… Until Sherlock.

He didn't understand exactly why he had these feelings for his flat mate. He knew that he idolized Sherlock, and he knew that he found him mysterious which John had always found interesting in the women he dated. He liked the fact that he didn't always know what was on his mind, although sometimes it was the worst thing about Sherlock. Like right now, John wished to God he knew what Sherlock felt. He wished he could tell what his friend was thinking by just looking at his face like the great detective.

John slowly climbed the stairs he had to get his laundry from the living room then he would go to his room and take a shower, without thinking about Sherlock while he did so…He was determined to get over this. He wasn't gay, and he wasn't going to let anything happen between him and his flat mate. When he reached the top of the stairs he took a deep breath as he walked into the living room. Sherlock sat in his chair with his violin in his lap and holding his bow with one hand on each end of it.

"Ah, good you're home…" Sherlock stated casually as John came in. John was caught off guard at the sight of his friend. Why was he up before noon? Was there another case? Did he even sleep last night?! John frowned and turned away from Sherlock and toward the sofa to see a basket with his clothes inside. He walked to it as he cleared his throat.

"Yes, and you're up. Long night?" John asked secretly trying to find out if Sherlock had even slept. He looked through his clothes trying to find a shirt and underpants hastily. He just had to get his clothes and go.

Sherlock frowned.

"I could ask you the same thing." Sherlock replied lifting his violin to his chin. John flinched, remembering the previous night. It had been horrible to say the least. It wasn't that April wasn't beautiful, because she was. It wasn't because sex with her was bad, because compared to other women it wasn't. It was because the entire time he could not stop thinking about Sherlock. With every thrust, every touch, every shallow unsteady breath the thought of Sherlock was right alongside him. It was a harsh reminder that he wasn't getting over this "ordeal" as soon as he had hoped. John frowned and snatched up a grey shirt and red underpants.

Sherlock began to softly play his violin.

John turned sharply, almost in a military fashion and walked toward the door. As he exited the room he mumbled loud enough for Sherlock to hear,
"Yes, very long night. It was great, April is amazing." And with that he leapt up the stairs taking two steps at a time. Sherlock, shocked by the unnerving comment, let his bow skip unnaturally across the strings causing an awful screech that sent chills down the detective's spine. Or maybe it wasn't the screech that caused the chills.

John hurried as he stripped off his clothes and got into his shower. He stood facing the water with a sour expression. He just wanted to get rid of these feelings he was harboring. Why did he have to feel like this?

Sherlock sat thoughtfully. So, is he overcompensating? Sherlock pondered to himself. Or is he over this crush of his? Sherlock couldn't be sure… Not without more data. So he did what any other sensible person would do, he would continue to test his theories even if it killed John. It's a risk I'm willing to take. He thought with amusement. Sherlock stood from his chair and quietly climbed the stairs. He heard the shower running and entered John's room. The bathroom door was shut, as always and John's clothes were laid out on his bed…As always… Previously, Sherlock had always allowed time for him to leave John's room before his flat mate got out of the shower. But not this time.