"John!" Sherlock moaned into his pillow, "It fucking hurts!"

"They took something out of you," John answered, "Obviously it's going to hurt. And watch your mouth."

"Fuck off," Sherlock groaned.

John stood and turned to leave but a thin hand stopped him. He looked down to see Sherlock looking rather sheepish.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, looking anywhere but John.

"It's ok," John assured him, sitting back down, "seriously, do you need some pain medicine? They said to let them know if the pain was too much."

"No more drugs," Sherlock muttered.

John felt a shock go through him. He hadn't even thought about what the drugs might do to Sherlock emotionally or mentally. John looked at the detective who'd closed his eyes again. His face was contorted in pain, but his body seemed fairly relaxed for someone who'd just had body parts removed. John's eyes travelled to Sherlock's lower back where the stitched up flesh was exposed. During the surgery, John had tried to not look as they cut Sherlock open, but he had looked. He had seen it and he was sure he would never allow it again unless it was necessary. It shook him to the core to see his beloved detective cut open like a cat in a biology class. John had almost screamed, but he managed to silently remind himself that it was all necessary.

"What are you thinking about?" Sherlock's voice called to him from his thoughts.

John looked up to see Sherlock squinting at him.

"Honestly, I was thinking about you," John answered.

"Good or bad thinking?" Sherlock questioned.

"Hmm," John hummed as he considered the question, "I don't know really. I was just thinking that I didn't like seeing you cut up like that."

"Because you think I'm perfect," Sherlock stated more than asked.

"I suppose so," John replied quietly.

"I'm not though," Sherlock mumbled, "I'm arrogant and self-centered. And I used to do drugs. And I was stupid enough to get cat DNA into my own. And I lie all the time. And i can't make tea for shit. I'm not quite sure exactly how to make tea even..."

Sherlock trailed off leaving John to fill the awkward silence.

"Why are you telling me all of these things?" John questioned.

"Shut up and leave me alone," Sherlock groaned, burying his face back in the pillow, "If you don't understand then how can I explain?"

John frowned at the man, trying to make sense of what he'd said.


"Sherlock! Get down from there!" John shouted.

Sherlock hissed from his purchase on the top shelf of the bookcase.

"Sherlock, dammit!" John shouted, "You're going to rip your stiches open doing that!"

Sherlock hissed at him again, but climbed down the bookcase. John glared at him as he jumped down the last two shelves. Sherlock trotted over and rubbed against John like a cat does when it wants attention. His tail flicked about, curling itself around John's wrist.

"Sherlock, you're bored, aren't you?" John asked in a tired voice.

"A bit," Sherlock said through purrs.

He snuggled his face against John's chest inviting John to pet him. John sighed and relented, lifting his hand to Sherlock's head and petting the man.

"You're getting more and more like a cat as time wears on," John commented.

"I just suppressed it," Sherlock replied, his eyes closed.

"How does your back feel?" John questioned.

"Fine," Sherlock answered curtly, "It's healing or whatever."

"Does it hurt?" John pressed.

"It's sore," Sherlock purred into John's chest, "Now shut up."

John sighed heavily and backed up until he found the sofa. He flopped down and Sherlock curled up on his lap, wincing slightly as his stiches pulled. John resumed petting Sherlock and leaned his head back. He was beginning to wonder what was going to happen to Sherlock. If they could keep everything quiet, he should have no trouble. But what if someone found out and Sherlock was carted off to some crazy science lab to do all sorts of tests? John didn't think they'd allow him to stay with Sherlock if they took him and it scared him to think that Sherlock would have to be alone in some scary lab with scientists prodding at him and doing who knows what.

"Shut up," Sherlock muttered, "You're thinking way too loud. Everything is going to be ok."

"Are you just saying that or do you mean it?" John asked in a hollow voice.

Sherlock opened his eyes and peeked up at John, apparently realizing that John was actually upset about something. He lifted up, his eats suddenly standing straight up.

"Of course I mean it," Sherlock said firmly, "Why wouldn't I mean it?"

"Sherlock…" John paused, trying to push the whining out of his voice, "What if someone finds out about you?"

"I don't know what if," Sherlock answered, "But we'll be ok. We always are. Because I'm me and I'm stupid sometimes, but you're you and you always save me when I get in trouble. That's why I love you."

John sighed and leaned his head back.

"I guess you're right," John muttered, "You're always right."

Sherlock settled back on his lap and John picked up petting him again.


Days later, John sat straight up in bed, gasping. His eyes and mouth were wide as a realization hit him.

"He said….he said…." John sputtered into his darkened room, "He…he…he said…"

John brought in several deep, shuddering breaths in attempt to calm himself. Then something moved on the bed next to him and he yelped, jerked violently and fell out of his bed. A dark head with giant cat ears on top of it peeked over the edge of the bed at him. John scowled at the detective.

"Are you ok?" Sherlock asked innocently.

"No!" John shouted at him, "What are you doing in my bed?!"

Sherlock's ears flattened against his head and John felt a pang of guilt.

"It was cold…" Sherlock said quietly.

John rubbed at his eyes.

"Well, move over," John said, "Let me back in."

Sherlock grinned at him and his ears popped back up. He scurried backwards as John stood up. John climbed back into hisbed and Sherlock immediately cuddled up to him. John sighed, but put an arm around the other man anyway. Sherlock's tail curled around his wrist (again) and Sherlock burrowed his face in John's chest. John tried not to think about how they were in bed together. He pushed it from his mind and thought instead about what had made him sit straight up in the first place.

"Sherlock…you told me you loved me," John said quietly.

"I do," Sherlock mumbled sleepily into John's shirt.

"Like really love?" John urged, "Or just friend love?"

Sherlock hummed and John looked down to see the detective was already half-asleep.

"Dunno," Sherlock finally answered, "Kinda new to it."

"To love?" John clarified.

"Mmm-hmm," Sherlock hummed in reply.

John bit his lip, wanting to ask so many questions. He sighed heavily and pressed closer to Sherlock.

"I love you too, Sherlock," John whispered.

Sherlock didn't say anything. John was pretty sure he was already asleep. Oh well, John thought as he allowed himself to drift off into dreams once again.


Little note: I'm not going to lie, this is one of my favorite fanfictions that I've written so far. I'm pretty happy with it, though it was supposed to be funnier than it is. Anyway, hope you guys liked this chappie! Love you all!