Thanks goes to mystoceletfor the eyes promt! Enjoy. I hope you like it.

His Eyes

There was a wave—no, it was more like a hurricane of emotion ripping down his well built barriers. Blue-greys filled with absolute untamed rage, burning holes into the man that dared upset him.

John Watson was angry. And this time, it wasn't even Sherlock's fault.

Sherlock took Anderson's insult like any other day, a shrug and shake of the head, no real damage done. He didn't actually care to hear what he had to say, only brushed it off with a sneer. John heard it though, and he hadn't liked it one bit.

John had been facing toward him, talking with him about where they'd go to dine that evening when Anderson slung an insult. He watched as those soft, loving blues turned to steel. They hardened, the color darkening and pupils narrowing as he turned heel to face the forensic examiner. From the side, he could see the blond's lips crack into an ugly sneer as he bit back what Sherlock knew were callous, offensive words not meant for the public. But being the gentleman John Watson is, he held his tongue and cocked his head.

"Must you really, Anderson? Is Sally not doing the job well enough that you need to bait Sherlock to get off?" John spat, eyes now impassive and shadowed by his furrowed brow. Sherlock could feel the tension in John's shoulders from his restraint, giving it his best not to chin Anderson right there on the street in front of half of Scotland Yard. He wanted to step back. Fury was rolling off of John in palpable sheets, the oppressive weight like nothing he had ever felt from his lover before.

"I don't see what that's to you!" Anderson shouted, his cropped hair flipping about as he craned himself to his full height. John didn't step down. He squared his shoulders and clenched his jaw, bracing his 5'6 self to army standards.

"Then why mention our "fag lifestyle?" John bit out, pulling himself up further, placing himself practically in Anderson's face. The brunette tripped over his next words, not sure how to respond on why he tried using it as an insult. Facing off with the good doctor in the street didn't even seem like a plausible outcome though. Sherlock rolled his shoulders and stepped up behind John, placing a hand on the blond's shoulder.

At the gentle touch, John flinched slightly, whipping his head around to face him. The consulting detective watched as John's steeled eyes broke their concentration, flashing a softer expression.

"Leave it, John. His frustration is not of importance." His lover gave him a nod and turned back to Anderson. As he turned, Sherlock saw a mask slip over the doctor's face, eyes growing cold once more.

"I'd watch your mouth next time. You never know if I'd been having a bad day, Anderson. And do Sally a favor, at least let her kneel on the rug. Her knees are looking worse for the wear." Sherlock bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking, or worse, chuckling at John's comment. Sally's shifting to make sure her skirt covered her knees didn't help in the slightest. John swiftly turned about his heel, grabbing Sherlock's forearm and tugging him down the sidewalk.

Sherlock wasn't able to see John's eyes again until they were in the cab. Even then, it was the reflection from the window. John's face was tightly creased, something obviously on his mind. Their was still a storm behind his lover eyes as they stared downcast at the road. Every now and then the muscle on the left side of his mouth would twitch. When the cab pulled up outside of their flat, John was the first out. Sherlock sighed, rolling out of the cab after paying the driver.

In the flat, John was busy making tea. He was scowling, eyes still sharply narrowed as he puttered about. Sherlock quietly removed his outer wear and shoes, placing it all in the hall closet before making his way into the kitchen. The blond slammed another cabinet closed as he put his cup on the counter and impatiently waited for the kettle to whistle.

"John? Are you alright? It was just another one of Anderson's throw-offs, you know that. His ignorance has no limit. He'd use anything as an insult." Sherlock offered. John finally looked up at him. He watched as the hard blue melted, giving way to show his emotional depth. The doctor averted his eyes and slumped against the counter.

"I know, Sherlock, but I'm so tired of how he treats you. After everything, he still looks down on you. He can't even be pleasant on a case, no, he has to spit some stupid nonsense form his gob." A slight smile crossed Sherlock's face. He pulled himself across the room in long strides, stopping directly before his lover. Grasping the blond's chin, he tipped his head up.

Worry. Concern. Frustration. All of it swirled in his eyes. John's sole focus was Sherlock, how he felt about what Anderson had said. More so, he was worried about if Sherlock was ashamed they had come out about their relationship.

"John, we've talked about this. I don't care what the others have to say. I'm not in a relationship with them, I'm in one with you. They can call it as they like, but I'll never deny it. I do love you, John." Sherlock felt the tension finally leave John's body, shoulders relaxing. The narrowed shape John had scrunched his eyes to finally disappeared, allowing the full rounds of his eyes be seen. The color was notably lighter, not nearly as menacing as when they had been locked on Anderson's poor excuse of a person.

John's mouth lifted into an easy smile, causing small wrinkles to crease the edge of his eyes. At this angle, he had the perfect view into John's eyes, the brilliant ocean color rimming the green around the pupil. He could see the worry wash away, the concern melt into the corners, and his frustration ease for the moment. All of it moving to make room for that sweet emotional mess John had wrapped him in months ago, that same emotion that made his eyes sit in content crescents.

"I love you too, Sherlock. For some reason, I really do." The consulting detective gave a huffing laugh. That all encompassing love was back, searching through Sherlock's own eyes for which he knew reflected the same.

"Yes, for some reason." He dropped a kiss to the corner of John's mouth, The blond tilted his head and captured Sherlock's mouth before he could pull back. Stepping back, he watched John's eyes slowly open again. Those twin pools shimmering, absolute happiness and love.

John's eyes were wonderful little lights. They could show Sherlock everything he missed in the doctor's body language. They could show him signals from across a room and skepticism at another one of his impossible theories. But they always showed the truth.

John loved him.

Sherlock could only hope John saw the same in his eyes.

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