"Get down!" said John, struggling to move the light where I could see. My left hand came off of the shelf and I could see the object clearly. It was a jar of mercury. Useless. I lost interest and my balance was further corrupted. I could feel myself falling. I twisted, attempting to right myself but all I managed to do was fall face first onto John.
"Ooof."
Our heads missed anything blunt and our feet knocked over several vials of whatever in an attempt to make room for our legs in the cramped space. A few bottles from above had landed on my back, one on my head, and a couple on the floor. Only two were broken and none were particularly harmful.
"You okay?" he managed from my neck.
My face was pressed to his forehead, his arms were around my middle and mine were on either side of him. I pushed myself up to get a good look around, but all I saw was John. Under me. Holding on for dear life.
I froze.
"Sherlock?" he said, shaking me a bit. "Sherlock? You alright? You didn't pass out or anything did you? We should get to the nurse, God only knows what's in all these bott-"
I was staring at him. His face was concerned, not for himself, never himself, but for me. I could barely make him out in the light of the thrown phone. Incredible. Astonishing. Wonderful. All synonyms for John. For my friend. Under me. Whom I must love because every other term didn't quite fit.
That thought seemed to knock me back into the present with a John staring up at me. He made a move to release me so we could rise, but I stopped him by leaning down. Close.
Very close. We were going to kiss.
His mouth was still half-open from speech. Our noses almost brushed and our breath made a path to each other's lips. We were frozen here for a while, a minute or a day. Agonizingly slowly, I tipped my head forward, glancing from his lips to his face, and touched his lips with mine.
A rush of exhilaration and electricity found it's way up and down my spine. I wanted to- I wanted- John.
He started to move his lips, pressing up into mine. He tilted his head and moved his hands up my back. I slid my hand between his head and the hard floor, kissing him back.
Our bodies seemed to get even closer, heat was exchanged through the layers of winter clothing and everything was perfect. What started out as frozen joy quickly escalated into something fast and warm and... wonderfully alive but quiet all the same. One of us opened our mouth and the other sucked on a lip. Tongues were meshed and twined together and hands were pressing on bodies, grasping hair and clothes. Half-formed moans and declarations made their way out as we explored each other's necks and faces. Bottles were knocked over, clanking against others and the wall as we slowed our ministrations.
Soon - too soon- we were barely touching lips with tiny movements and our eyes cracked open to make contact.
I start to lean down again but John half shakes his head, freezing me in place. Oh god was this a mis-
"Sherlock," he whispers, and then smiles. Not a normal smile, but an over-the-top, ear-reaching, eye-wrinkling smile. For me.
I smile back.
"Sherlock," he starts again, very softly, "to be completely dull I must ask - what does this mean?"
"Whatever you want it to of course." My voice is raspy and deep as I search his eyes. The effect of my sentence makes itself known there, brightening the blue even further.
He leans in for a quick kiss. It was wonderful. I am unused to this feeling... Joy? Interesting...
John pulls back and makes a face.
"Sherlock, we have got to get up. This isn't exactly comfortable."
He looks at me seriously. I look closer, his eyes are strained. I snort and we fall into - dare I say it - a giggle fit at the situation.
John grabs the phone and turns it on and I clamber off of him and help him up, avoiding the bits of broken glass around us.
"How are we supposed to get out of here?"
"The key, obviously."
He looks at me, dumbfounded.
"The key? Sherlock!"
I smile again, my face is beginning to hurt from the repeated action, and easily find the key on the shelf next to the doorknob, sliding it in to the lock.
"Watch out for Mrs. Norris," whispers John.
I ignore the look he sends at my confused expression and open the door.
The light blinds us for a moment and we sneak back through the hall, down the stairs and out into the courtyard.
I turn up my collar against the cold. Halfway across, John grabs my hand in his.
I smile.
Even three days later, the closet incident doesn't feel real. Yes, John and I hold hands when no one is watching. We share looks across our room. We kiss and snog and what have you. One night we slept in the same bed.
On this day, John was sitting on his bed, I on mine, and we were attempting to do classwork.
"Bored," I stated.
John looks up at me and sighs, putting down his laptop and half-finished essay.
"What do you want to do?"
"I don't know. I'm bored. If I knew what to do I would be doing it, not complaining."
He rolls his eyes. "What about that case you were working on? The missing letters?"
"I've a plan, but it can't be carried out until the start of the week."
"Oh. And I guess working on that essay like a good Sherlock is out of the question?"
I stare at him.
He thinks for a bit. "Er... What about a game?"
"A game John? Really?"
"Yes Sherlock," he says, "A game. Have you ever played truth or dare?"
"Yes. Once. And I did not enjoy it. Dares can be ridiculous and humiliating and I am stubborn." I wrap my arms round my legs, remembering.
John looks sad for a bit. "Oh, Sherlock," he starts quietly. "Well, I'm crap at I Spy so lets play truth or truth."
No way I can get out of this one, I think. "You go first, then, if we must."
"Okay. Erm.. Favorite color?"
"Blue." Like your eyes.
"Okay. Now you ask me."
"Must I?" I asked, raising my eyes to meet his. He nods. "Favorite color then."
"You can't just repeat me!"
"I asked! If you don't answer, you... you lose or something!"
"Fine. Green. Erm... Favorite animal?"
"What a ridiculous question."
"Just answer Sherlock!"
"Otter."
"Why?"
"That's two questions in a row, you can't do that."
"Fine, ask me one," he says, laying out on the bed.
"I'm tired of these meaningless questions," I say, making it more personal. "How many relationships have you had?"
"Oh. Erm, three," he responds. "Including this one, I mean. First kiss?"
I look down.
"Last week," I say. I could feel him stare at me. "Are you really surprised?"
"I, er, no. I mean yes! I- I don't know," he said, shifting upright on the bed. "I never really thought about it, so yeah, I am a bit. I'm kind of honoured, though."
I look up at him, he's genuine. He's always genuine, he's John.
"Your turn," I say. feeling better.
"Oh, right." He's silent for a bit. "Do you, uh, have any siblings?"
I flinch internally. "Yes." I keep it short.
"You can't just leave it at that! Names, how many, older or younger?"
"There were no stipulations on answer length or content at the beginning of this, just the truth and I gave you that!"
He looks disappointed.
"Fine," I gave in. "One. Mycroft. Older. Annoying."
He smiles. I smile back, happy to please him.
I thought about my next question. I knew he had a sibling, older, but we were on the subject of family. "Whatever happened to your father?"
The smile froze on his face as a mask slipped on. Oh.
"He um. He," he cleared his throat, "He died."
Oh.
I caught his eye and got up. I sat next to him as he continued to stare forward. I put my arm around him. Physical comfort was key when dealing with emotional situations.
"The crash," he said softly, not looking at me but leaning in to my touch. "It was his fault. All of ours, really, but he was driving."
I stayed silent to allow him to continue.
"It was... it started out as a nice night. Dad had gotten a promotion at work and we were out celebrating...
Dad and Harry was drinking, way too much as usual, and we were all giddy with a good night out. Harry had her arm around my shoulders, laughing at something Dad had said. Mum and Dad were in front of us on the way to the car.
"Oh tell another!" said Mum. She loved Dad's jokes, he always had something new to say.
"Let me get in the car first!"
We all got in, none of us were in the state of mind to tell Dad not to drive.
"He... er, at the intersection right before our house, he ran the light. He T-boned another car, a smaller one. Harry and I ended up in the front, her by Mum and me where Dad should've been. Mum was buckled in, a habit that kept her alive. Harry knocked her head on the dash but she was okay too. I, well you know I hurt my shoulder. Dad, he, there was a hole in the windshield. I knew, just knew he was dead. I looked out to the other car-"
He stopped for a bit, clutching me closer.
"Oh god Sherlock, it was a family. A whole family. I could see them, the parents in the front- oh there was just so much blood Sherlock. Everywhere, I could make out their injuries. Their... They had a daughter! She was screaming. It... it was the worst sound I have ever heard. I tried to move, to get to her – to do something. My foot caught on a part of the car on the way out and I fell to the ground. I think I passed out, landing on my shoulder like that. A piece of metal had stabbed me during the crash, cutting into nerves and muscle.
"I got up, as soon as I could. Oh god, I... I couldn't get the door open! I- she was screaming, looking at me, pounding on the window. She couldn't have been more than ten, Sherlock, and she was covered in her blood. It was... gushing from her head, her stomach. Her blonde braids were soaked and I couldn't save her." He choked on the last word and went silent, breathing hard and forcing back tears.
I didn't know what to do... My poor John. I lied back, pulling him with me as he curled up, burying his head in my neck. My hand started to rub circles on his back, my mouth uttering small phrases of comfort out of instinct.
Then we fell asleep.