Hello! Time for a gratuitous John-and-Sherlock-awkwardness-chapter, methinks. To reward all you patient slash fans who've had to wait five chapters before even a hint of unrequited love was mentioned… Well done you. I've had a particularly awful day, and fancied a more relationship centred chapter- just a short one tonight.
8:30am
Sherlock awoke to the smell of bacon frying. He sniffed disapprovingly, feeling a little queasy. John knew he didn't like that god awful stench, why-
Oh. John. He'd forgotten about John, and all about the night before. The memories flooded back like bile in his mouth. He'd interrupted, been in the wrong place and the wrong time, and stopped John from being with Sarah. He'd always been a little inconvenient, a little overwhelming, perhaps this was one step too far?
Sherlock removed his head from under his pillow, pulling on his suit roughly, without thinking. He was rather preoccupied. John cooking bacon was surely some passive aggressive way of letting Sherlock know he was angry at him. Well fine. If he was going to be so bloody immature Sherlock was going to beat him at his own game. He ambled into the living room, pretending that there was no reason for John to be pissed off with him. He collapsed back onto the sofa, picking up a magazine and reading carefully.
"Want any breakfast?" John said it casually, but his voice was brittle. Sherlock glanced up from the article on the anniversary of John Lennon's death- whoever that was- and noticed that even John's posture was stiff, frozen with steely annoyance.
"Just tea, thanks," Sherlock said smoothly, determined not to let any emotion show.
"Right." Neither one said anything until John thrust the mug of tea at Sherlock quickly, with a lot more force than was strictly necessary.
"Are you coming to the Yard today?" Sherlock asked.
"Yes," John replied his voice still as standoffish as ever. Sherlock's resolve weakened. Maybe he should just apologise? But it wasn't his fault that he'd stumbled upon John and Sarah's night of passion, it wasn't as if they'd never-
"I'm sorry I interrupted you last night, ok?" he said quickly. "I didn't realise that you and her hadn't-"
"Hadn't?"
"Hadn't… yet."
"Oh. Well, er… yeah." Sherlock coughed, fiddling with the collar of his shirt nervously. He couldn't help but notice how attractive John looked even in the morning's half light. His short fair hair was sticking up at the back from where his head had rested on his pillow. His thin pyjama bottoms were too long for him, which puzzled Sherlock at first, before realising that John was in fact wearing some of Sherlock's sleep wear.
"John, are you wearing my pyjamas?"
"Yes. I ran out. Do you mind?"
"Er, no." Sherlock lied. He did mind. The idea of sharing something so embarrassingly intimate with John made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. His temperature began to rise once more. "Well, er, I, um-"
"I'll just get dressed," said John, leaving his bacon sandwich uneaten on the kitchen surfaces. It probably wasn't all that safe to eat in any case, considering what Sherlock left on them. He might have eaten a stray finger. Once John had left the room, Sherlock immediately went to the mirror to check his appearance. He winced as he saw himself- pale, thin, gangling. He was nothing to John. He attempted to flatten his hair, which he had always disliked. It had always gotten in the way of his experiments, getting in his eyes- though this was the first time he had noticed how unattractive it must look. Or just the first time that he'd cared.
"Come on then," said John, re-entering the room. Sherlock jumped at the sound of John's voice, and then again at the sight of him. He was wearing a red checked shirt and jeans, somehow managing to look heavenly even in such simple clothing. It made his fingers tingle.
"Ok," he said hoarsely, scarcely able to catch a breath. Sherlock hailed a cab whilst John grabbed his coat, and they sat in relative silence for a few minutes. Neither one could think of anything to say to the other. Finally, John spoke.
"I'm sorry for being an arse," he said plainly.
Sherlock looked at John inquisitively. "You? John, you weren't-"
"Yes I was. I can hardly expect you to just up and leave if I want to… well. And you weren't to know that me and Sarah hadn't… hadn't done that yet. So I'm sorry."
"… That's fine," said Sherlock, a little dazed by the reaction. He'd expected John to hit him. "So… You two haven't, then?"
"No."
"Right."
"…"
"Ok."
"…"
"That's fine."
"I… I just couldn't find the right moment!" said John exasperatedly.
Sherlock glanced at the driver. He had his headphones on- this was going to be marginally less awkward. "And I ruined the right moment?"
"No, Sherlock. I'm sure it will be fine. It's just been a while."
Sherlock blushed furiously. "Er, John, compared to me, you're quite the ladies man."
John looked uneasy. "Oh. Sorry, I forgot."
"That's fine."
"…So you haven't… ever?"
"No."
"Right."
"…"
"Ok."
"…"
"That's fine."
The rest of the cab journey passed in merciful silence.
9:00am
"Lestrade," said Sherlock smoothly. "What have you learnt?"
Lestrade gave them both a weary smile that only John returned. "You were right. Ionescu delivered packages for Moriarty, he's been seen entering several buildings associated with Moriarty."
Sherlock smiled coldly. "Good. Now, we just have to find out which of his customers fits the profile. Where's he been recently?"
"Well, I don't think you'll have to do much digging for this one."
"What?" said Sherlock, startled.
"He's been delivering something once a week to a member of the House of Lords." Lestrade passed them a file. "Lord Harrison. We haven't interrogated him yet, we thought you might want to tag along."
"Tag along?" Sherlock's nose wrinkled in disgust. "Me? Let's not forget who the competent investigator is here- and besides, you've got this all wrong. It's not him."
"What?" said Lestrade in disbelief. "Look, he's a Lord, Ionescu's met him, it fits!"
"No, it can't be that simple, it just can't. Moriarty's given us a red herring."
"I still think-"
"Do shut up Lestrade, it's distracting me. Let me see that man's file." Lestrade sighed then passed it to him. Sherlock glanced at the photo, and then chuckled. "I was right. This man has been receiving drugs from Moriarty, but nothing hard. Poppers."
"Poppers? You're kidding me!"
"I never joke. He's been ordering Poppers for some time, I'd say about 6 months. He's having multiple affairs too."
"… How did you… Oh, never mind." Lestrade gave up, baffled. "Right, back to square one. Here's a list of everyone he's seen in the last few weeks." He handed the paper over to John.
"Thank you."
"Anything you need?" said Lestrade.
"Just leave John and I to it," said Sherlock calmly.
"Coffee?" said John, just as Lestrade left.
"Not yet. We need to leave- I want to see Ionescu's body again."
10:30am
"Please, Molly." John begged, desperate with her.
"No," she said defiantly. "The paperwork's through, I can't get the body. I'm not allowed if you're not police, I'm sorry but that's that."
"We really need to see it," he pleaded. "Please, I'm begging you."
Molly shook her head. "There's nothing I can do."
John sighed, and turned back to Sherlock. "What's up with her?" he hissed once she had turned her back.
"I think she's still annoyed about me outing her boyfriend," Sherlock said plainly.
"But he was Moriarty!" John cried.
"That doesn't mean it didn't hurt."
"Isn't there something you can do?" he said, exasperated by how petty Molly was being.
"Well… I suppose, but you're not going to like it," Sherlock said quietly.
"I think desperate times call for desperate measures, Sherlock."
"Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you." He sauntered gently over to Molly, who still had her back turned. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Hey," he said in his usual rich, vivid voice.
She span around, blushing slightly. "What?" she said rudely, crossing her arms defensively.
Sherlock smiled. "Your hair. It's different."
"Yes," she snapped quickly. "What's wrong with it?"
"Nothing," He glanced at her lips and gave her another seductive grin. "It suits you."
Molly seemed at a loss as of what to say. "… Thank you?"
Sherlock reached behind her to grab a coffee mug, allowing his hand to brush hers as he leant over. Molly seemed to shudder a little. "Listen, Molly. I know it's inconvenient, and I really don't mean to cause you trouble, but you couldn't just let us see Ionescu's body, could you? It's vital to the case that I see this." Sherlock had stopped very close to Molly, their bodies almost touching.
"… Sure…" she said breathlessly.
Sherlock smirked. "Thanks." He immediately walked on ahead to the morgue, only pausing to shout "Come on John!" John followed, still dazed from what had just gone on.
12:00pm
The sounds of the traffic blared inside Sherlock's already crowded head. John looked at Sherlock cautiously. "That wasn't a nice thing to do."
Sherlock blinked at him. "There wasn't a nice thing that would work."
"You know she likes you. You shouldn't lead her on."
"Well if you had suggested another way I would have tried it, but you couldn't think of anything either." He said sharply.
John remained quiet for a time, as did Sherlock. It broke Sherlock's heart to see that look of disapproval on John's face, it was worse than anger. Knowing that John was disappointed in him was enough punishment.
"You can just turn on the charm with anyone, then?" John said abruptly.
"If needs be."
"Oh."
"Does that surprise you? Do you think I'm manipulative?"
"No. God, no, Sherlock. I know that you're not the best with feelings and you don't often understand how they work, so I don't think you're doing it on purpose. But what you did then was hurtful."
"… Sorry." Sherlock found himself saying before he knew what he was doing. Sherlock Holmes never apologised. Never. But then again, there were a lot of things he did now that he didn't do before he met John Watson. There was an awkward silence once more.
"How did you do it?" said John, with something like awe in his voice.
"Excuse me?"
"How did you do it? Just… seduce her like that?"
"I… I understand how to evoke emotions in others. Certain tricks, it's useful if I need information. It's nothing personal."
"… Could you teach me?"
Sherlock looked genuinely shocked. Well, he certainly hadn't seen that one coming. "You want me to teach you?"
John blushed, checking the cabbie still had his headphones on. "Yes," he hissed through gritted teeth. "Don't make me ask again."
"Why?" Sherlock whispered, conscious of the driver's presence.
"Why do you think?" he muttered. "It's taken me two months to get that close with Sarah, and she initiated that. If I leave it much longer she'll dump me!"
Sherlock shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well, if, er, you want that, then I suppose I could… help out?" He finished weakly.
John smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Sherlock. I owe you big time."
"You're welcome…" Great. The man he was deeply attracted to expected him to give him lessons on how to seduce his girlfriend. Brilliant.
Must dash, the Apprentice special is on in a moment. Guilty pleasures… It's not my fault! I need something to distract myself for when Sherlock's not on!