John is having a conversation with himself which takes place in his head.
John was walking down the hallway, running a hand through his short sandy-blonde hair.
What the hell did he just do?
Was he...flirting?
"No."
"No."
''No."
"Not gay."
"I am not bloody gay."
"Not for anyone, even Sherlock."
"What?!"
"Shut up. Just shut up. I need to think."
"Even if I was unconsciously flirting with him ( which I wasn't) he could never return the feelings."
" YOU HAVE NO FEELINGS HE IS YOU'RE BEST FRIEND "
" I know! You don't need to remind me."
" There might be something there John..."
" NO I'M NOT GAY"
" Maybe you're not, but sexuality isn't black and white. There are grey areas you know and you could-"
" EVERYONE JUST SHUT UP!"
* silence*
John pushed Sherlock Holmes out of his mind.
He went exploring and discovered spas, pools, a beach that was in walking distance, delicious food, nighttime entertainment, there were free massages and attractive women as far as the eye could see.
Sherlock walked in the other direction, away from the ridiculous resort and towards the ocean.
He was deep in thought.
So John Watson found him attractive.
This wasn't surprising.
Sherlock admitted he was a little thrown off at first with all of his girlfriends and naked women on the computer, but the signs were oh-so obvious.
The flushed cheeks, shaking words, dilated pupils, the flustered behavior afterwards, quicker breathing.
The real question was, did Sherlock return his feelings?
Obviously at first he would make up an excuse about being a sociopath or married to his work...but...
He had a nagging feeling at the pit of his stomach.
There was a feeling he wasn't acknowledging.
Not yet.
He didn't want to think about it yet.
Not now.
He finally arrived at the beach and sat down into the sand, staring into the ocean.
It was so beautiful and wild, untamed and free. It's waves crashing, the water, cold, unaware of the damage. So beautiful.
It seemed like he was staring into eternity. He had found something he could relate with.
He sat there for what seemed like years.
Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and jerked away quickly, not expecting.
Sherlock fell face first into the sand.
There was an eruption of laughter and Sherlock looked up to see John hunched over giggling, wiping tears from his eyes.
"Hahahaha...Sherl-hahahaa"
Sherlock scowled at him and stood up quickly, wiping sand from his eyes and clothing.
" John. I didn't expect you."
He was still laughing.
" Obviously."
John grinned.
" Well...I...I was studying the ocean for some time and frequent human behavioral research shows that if you are in a peaceful state of mind and you get suddenly jerked out of that state then it can be the equivalent of facing a phobia."
John was smiling and looking up at his head.
" Didn't you hear what I just said?"
" You have sand in you're hair."
Sherlock shook it out, causing John to laugh more.
" No mate, you still have one spot-"
John reached over and ran his hand through the spot where the sand hadn't shaken off.
Sherlock's hair was softer than expected and John almost wished that he could have touched it for longer.
Sherlock felt tingles run down the back of his neck.
No.
He pulled his hand out.
" There you go. How long have you been here? I was looking for you."
Sherlock looked up into the sky for a second.
" Approximately 3 hours."
" 3 Hours! Didn't you get bored?"
Sherlock shook his head.
" I don't remember the ocean much as a child. I don't remember it ever being so intriguing."
John nodded his head, deep in thought.
" Do...do you mind if I sit with you?"
Sherlock nodded and motioned for John to sit beside him.
They sat together in silence, feeling complete peace. The only sound they could hear was the water hitting the sand.
Time passed and the sun had begun to set, they started to feel like they were being bitten by bugs.
John stood up slowly.
" Thank you."
Sherlock looked up at him in confusion.
" For?"
" I may be the only person in the world who'll say this but, I enjoy spending time with you."
Sherlock nodded and stood up as well.
John spoke.
" We should probably change our clothes and get something to eat."
They walked back to their room, this time, John didn't even seem to notice the bikini wearing beauties passing by the two men.
Sherlock however, noticed John's lack of attention.
As soon as they entered the room, John walked into the bathroom and was changing his clothes while Sherlock sat on the bed.
After they both changed they walked down to the resort restaurant.
Sherlock looked in and then walked away.
" Sherlock! Where are you going?"
He briefly turned to face the doctor.
" The food looks undesirable, the crowd looks large, and I'm sure they make enough money as it is."
Sherlock searched something up on his phone quickly.
" I already have an alternative. Come along John."
John reluctantly ran after him, leaving the eatery behind.
They called a cab over to a very local Spanish restaurant.
From what John could tell, it looked family owned.
They got a small table and sat down. Sherlock took a quick look at the menu and then put it down.
Sherlock sighed deeply.
" If only there could be a murder."
John smiled and shook his head.
" What are you going to do all week Sherlock?"
He stopped and thought for a minute.
Then he looked to John and stared intensely into his eyes, making John a bit uncomfortable. Biting lip, looking away.
" I might have an idea."
Seemingly out of nowhere a waiter appeared with a welcoming smile on her face.
Before she could say anything, Sherlock chimed in:
" Buen día. ¿Podríamos conseguir dos paellas? Gracias.
(Good day. Could we get two paellas? Thank you.)
John looked shell shocked. He didn't know Sherlock could speak Spanish at all, not to mention that well!
She replied:
"Enseguida señor." with a smile and sped away.
( Right away sir. )
Before John could spit a compliment out of his mouth Sherlock said:
" Have you found any desirable women at the resort yet?"
John almost choked on his water.
" De- *cough cough*. Umm oh yes! Sure, loads."
Sherlock studied his facial features.
Lie.
" Sherlock, how did you learn to speak Spanish so well?"
He smirked.
" I pick up various talents along my cases. Language is vital to my work."
John nodded, staring at his features.
Even John couldn't deny Sherlock was an attractive man. His deep green eyes, sharp cheekbones, raven black curls...wait.
No.
What the hell was John thinking!
He looked away, ashamed.
" What are your plans for the vacation?"
" Erm, well... I might get some massages, swim in the pool. Mostly relax."
Sherlock nodded.
" What are paellas?"
" A paella is an authentic dish from Spain, mostly made from rice, shrimp, spices, vegetables. They are supposedly delicious."
John nodded, but still felt pale from earlier.
" John, you look ill. Are you okay?"
" Oh yes, I'm fine."
The waitress walked over with two dishes and set them down in front of them.
She smiled at Sherlock.
" Gracias."
( Thank you )
"No hay problema!"
( No problem! )
She stared at him for a little longer, then walked away, twirling her hair.
John felt the teensiest bit jealous.
He hastily took a bite of his food and immediately moaned:
" Mmmmmmmmm"
Sherlock smirked.
He did have a plan for the week.
He would test John, to see if his suspicions were correct.
He had plenty of time.
He looked up at John, only to see a big clump of rice on the edge of his mouth, he hadn't seemed to notice.
Perfect.
Sherlock took his finger, and lightly brushed it across Johns mouth, brushing away the rice.
He made sure to do it very slowly.
He watched John's face go from pale to pink in under two seconds.
" You had some rice on your face."
" Thanks."
After dinner, they took a cab back to the resort, and it was dark by then.
They were tired by now, so the detective and his blogger went back to their room.
John switched on the light, and stared at the room.
" Sherlock, what's the sleeping situation?"
Sherlock smirked.
" I'm assuming we're both going to sleep on the single bed due to the lack of other options. Problem?"
" No! No it's fine. Are you going to actually sleep?"
" I haven't slept in about two days, so it might be wise to do so now, especially when there isn't anything better to do."
John crawled into bed and Sherlock did the same.
The bed really was small, because they were both touching without effort.
They turned the lights out and John restrained the urge to wrap his arms around Sherlock.
Wrap his arms around him?
Oh god.
John held his face in his hands.
He loved him.