Exploring Sexuality
A/N: Okay, so I've gotten to the point in this fic (this tends to happen frequently) where I'm not entirely sure where I want the plot to go, so just a heads up that it might take a little longer for me to spin chapters out at you :)
Ch. 7
John insisted they come out almost formally, even though Sherlock argued that most of the Yard already thought they were together anyway and "couldn't be that dense" as to not notice the change between them. They were police men and detectives, after all. But eventually he gave in, and within the next couple of days, everyone that worked in the Yard got a text that read: "We're together. Now get over it. SH & JW" John had been given absolutely no say in that, and was apologizing to people for the next week. They had Harry over for dinner and she told them she was glad they were happy together and hugged John tightly. She said she was sober again, but Sherlock later said she had lied. John hadn't needed Sherlock to tell him.
When they were in public, Sherlock almost never let go of his hand, the only exception being when they were at a crime scene. Sometimes even then he didn't let go. It had taken John a day or two to get used to that, because he wouldn't have pegged Sherlock to be a hand-holder. But he held his hand so tightly most of the time, John knew it was more of a reassurance that he was still there than a romantic gesture, and that only made it romantic in a different way.
They had been together for almost a week and a half and had fallen into an easy sort of routine. Sherlock had yet to wake up after John, even when he had been on a case the days before, though it probably helped that he had fallen asleep around three in the afternoon beforehand. John usually woke to find Sherlock tapping Morse Code messages against his skin, or just sitting beside him on his laptop, and was therefore mildly confused when he woke up to an empty bed Thursday morning. He had to work, so he showered normally and found Sherlock starring at the ceiling on the couch when he got out. He had John's dog tags in his hand. He hadn't taken them off since John had given them to him.
"Good morning," he greeted, placing a kiss to Sherlock's forehead and frowning a little when he tensed. "What is it?"
"Remember when you told me you understood?" Sherlock asked, looking at up at John like he was lost, and only John could find him.
John nodded, because he did remember, every word. "I remember," he confirmed, playing back what Sherlock had told him in his head until it clicked. It was a no touching day. "Yeah, I remember," he repeated.
Sherlock nodded and closed his eyes, letting out an almost relieved sigh. "Good," was all he said though, and John made toast and jam for breakfast. He made Sherlock a cup of tea too, setting it on the coffee table beside the man before he left. He received a mumbled thank you as he walked out the door, pulling on the new coat he had gotten to replace the one that now had a tear in the arm.
"I will see you when I get out," he called, which didn't elicit a response, but he hadn't really expected it to. Just as he was paying the cabby, about to go into work, he got a text, and quickly checked it as he walked in. John typed his reply hastily before turning his mobile on silent.
I really don't deserve you. SH
You deserve better. JW
When John's shift ended, he bade goodbye to his coworkers and was about to hail a cab when someone else's hand slipped into his, squeezing tight. John turned and looked up in mild surprise to see Sherlock standing next to him, face blank.
"You didn't respond," Sherlock said, his voice almost as tight as his grip on John's hand.
"Sherlock, I was at work," John said a bit exasperatedly, sighing. "I couldn't look at my phone." They had had this conversation multiple times.
"Then don't send stupid texts like that before you go to work," Sherlock grumbled, causing John to raise an eyebrow at him. That was new.
When Sherlock didn't say anything else, but continued to lead them somewhere in the opposite direction of Baker Street, John squeezed the other man's hand reassuringly. "Talk aloud; it helps you think," he teased slightly, his voice soft.
Sherlock rolled his eyes and huffed out what could have been a half-hearted chuckle, but his voice was serious. "Look at them."
John sighed. Sherlock hated repeating himself, apparently even if he had only sent it in a text before. So John took out his mobile. [22 new messages] He looked up at Sherlock in surprise, but he wasn't looking at John, instead staring straight ahead as they walked. John hit OK and scrolled through them.
What is that supposed to mean? SH
You are more than I deserve. SH
So much more. SH
You're just naturally good. SH
You've always put up with me for some reason. SH
I don't know how. SH
You amaze me, John. SH
That was a compliment. SH
Most people say 'thank you' when complimented. SH
Not that you're most people. SH
You're not completely stupid. SH
(Also a compliment.) SH
You understand. SH
You're patient. SH
John? SH
Have I offended you? SH
You think I'm annoying. SH
Just like everyone else. SH
Okay. SH
I'm going to come find you. Ignore these. SH
John sighed a little. Sherlock doesn't like it when he doesn't respond, never has. "You are annoying," John agreed, putting his mobile back in his pocket. Sherlock's steps faltered just a little beside him. "Sometimes. Especially when you're being stupid, because you're so bloody brilliant the rest of the time. You're definition of annoying doesn't line up with everybody else's though, I think, so you don't always realize it. But, Sherlock," he said, looking back up at him, though he was still not looking at John. "I don't mind. Do you think I would have agree to getting your mobile out of the jacket you were currently wearing if I minded that much? That is a tad ridiculous, by the way, but if you asked me to again tomorrow, I'd do it."
Sherlock sighed agitatedly, as if that wasn't the answer he wanted. "But why?" he asked.
John shrugged, a small smile on his face. "Because I don't mind. You're busy curing cancer and what not, while I'm not doing anything important, so if you're that preoccupied, I might as well help, yeah?"
"I'm not curing cancer, John," Sherlock protested, despite that not being a relevant point.
John sighed, shrugging again. "You might as well be, for how important it is to you."
Sherlock shook his head. "So you'd do whatever I asked, merely because it's important to me?" he asked incredulously. It occurred to John that that was probably a foreign concept to him. But Molly did it too.
"More or less."
"I don't understand."
"I know," John sighed, trying to think of a way to explain it to Sherlock so that it would make sense. "Right, okay. So if Sally asked me to get her phone out of the jacket she were wearing, I would probably laugh a bit and tell her to get it herself, because she doesn't focus on things like you do. It may have been important to her, but I knew if I didn't get it for her, she would eventually get it herself. You don't. You will sit there for hours with your hand out, waiting, important that you have your mobile then or not, because you're also focusing on something equally important."
"What if Donovan had been focusing on something equally important?" Sherlock pressed, still not really understanding.
John looked up at Sherlock and shrugged, sighing again. "She's not you."
Sherlock didn't' respond to that for a long time. He just held John's hand tightly and led them through the streets of London. "Why does that matter?" he asked eventually, and John rolled his eyes.
"Because I fancy you, you daft git," he exclaimed, shaking his head like Sherlock did when they were being particularly thick.
"I don't understand that either," Sherlock responded exasperatedly. "Why? Why do you care when no one else does?"
John hesitated, a bit taken aback by the emotion in Sherlock's voice. "Because I see the man past all your snark and theatrics. And he is a good man," he said eventually, his voice soft. "Lestrade sees him too. So does Mrs. Hudson and Molly. They care."
Sherlock's hand seemed to go almost subconsciously to where John's dog tags were under his coat and shirt. "Tell me."
John smiled a bit and nodded. "You are incredibly intelligent. You do not give in, or give up on something you believe in. You do what you think is right. You don't care what other people say. You never leave anything unfinished."
"But…?"
John squeezed Sherlock's hand. "You hide behind sarcasm and casual insults. You have a bit of a god complex. Your social skills can be questionable."
"Why do you put up with me then?" Sherlock pressed.
"Because I fancy you," John repeated, rolling his eyes. "Weren't you listening?"
"I was," Sherlock assured, squeezing John's hand tighter. "I merely wanted to hear you say it again."
John felt a faint blush rise to his cheeks, but he smiled. "Good; then you'll know you do deserve me, deserve better, really."
"There isn't a "better," John, don't be ridiculous. That was what I was trying to say earlier," Sherlock said in a tone that John generally referred to as his 'don't be an idiot' tone.
"Well, thank you, then," John responded, feeling his blush increase slightly and willing it to fade. Sherlock just smiled a bit as way of reply, and after a couple of minutes, John grew curious. "Where are we going?" he asked.
Sherlock's smile widened, if a bit mischievously. "You'll see," he said, making John raise an eyebrow. "It's a surprise."