Based of the song "Emerald Eyes" by Anson Seabra
Neither the song, nor the BBC Sherlock series are mine.
Little Drabble of discovering something new.
"Sure you're up for this, Sherlock?"
John had to laugh to himself as he was putting two sandwiches into a satchel for their evening. What an odd night this would be.
"Puh" Sherlock huffed at him in an upset manner, waving at him to hurry it along. "I need the input."
That was one way to put it. John shook his head in amusement as he tossed in some water bottles as well, threw the straps over his shoulder, and followed the impatient man in his dramatic coat through the door to their lodging and into the dark of the night outside.
John's thoughts remained in their amused state throughout the drive through the London streets and into the hillside. After the case of the fake painting that nearly cost a poor lad his life, Sherlock had been feverish about recovering 'lost data' about the constellations and planets surrounding him. Which led them to this point. Sherlock had actually asked him to join him on an outing to observe the stars over London.
John waved the cabbie off with a smile, then hurried to his companion already trudging through the lush green grass of Primrose Hill.
"Over here, John." Sherlock called from a place cleared out above him. "You can just about see them here."
John had to glance up at the stars you could make out apart from the city light of the London evening. Dazzling they were. John's gaze dropped down to lay instead on the majestic figure ahead.
Sherlock.
The corners of John's mouth turned upwards. His next and most great adventure. Nothing in Afghanistan could have prepared him for this ride. John came to stand next to his friend who was positively humming with excitement.
"Look there, you can almost make out Venus." Sherlock pointed excitedly over to a brighter dot on the vast dark canvas. John followed the direction of his elegant finger and gave a smile to Sherlock as he let the sack fall to the ground next to them.
Sherlock spun around searching the skies urgently as a warm July breeze kicked up around them. John could just make out the sweet song of birds as they flew above them from tree to tree trying to find the right resting spot for the night. John closed his eyes a moment and took a deep, settling breath. Life had been so busy as of late, things had been stirring inside him for a while, but he had yet to have a moment to dwell on them. To dwell on the man beside him.
John glanced at Sherlock, just catching a glimpse of those bewitching eyes. So bright, so alive. Those impossible eyes. They had captured him and he knew it. When Sherlock looked at him it was impossible to look away. The realization had first caught him off guard, then it had infuriated him, confused him, and frustrated him to no end. He was not gay. Why did those eyes do things to him that he couldn't explain.
"Come John, look here!" Sherlock called out, gesturing wildly for John to join him. As John approached, Sherlock wrapped his elegant fingers around John's arm gently and leaned lower to John's hight to point upwards. His breath ghosted over John's ear and his deep, gentle voice sent an unsettling shiver over John as Sherlock spoke gently into his ear at this level of closeness.
"Look there, just there, you can make out Ursa Major, Or the Greater Bear. It was this same constellation that Homer referred to in his Iliad." Sherlock stood his full hight again and continued, "It is believed this group of stars is also written about by the biblical character of Job. It's absolutely astonishing that these same stars have lingered over the skies of incalculable amounts of people. Of whole civilizations rises and falls, John, they have witnessed them all. It's absolutely astonishing to think of all these stars have seen." Sherlock's eyes turned excitedly upon John. It was then that John's fond smile faltered a little. Sherlock's beautiful eyes turned curious and John suddenly became very aware that Sherlock's loose grip on his arm had not yet faltered.
There they stood, staring into each other. The breeze being the only thing between them. John's pulse quickened as he stared into those emerald orbs. He knew Sherlock had seen it all now. He had to know what John was thinking. He saw everything about anyone and everyone in moments, surely he had seen John's soul through his searching gaze.
Friends, always friends, but maybe.. maybe there could be more. Sherlock was his home now. John knew that. He could be in the center of London, or the moors of Baskerville, or the end of the earth; as long as Sherlock was there John was home. He didn't want to be anywhere else.
John shivered under the gaze of his friend and the whispering breeze. Sherlock tugged him gently forward to him, John craning his head to continue their eye contact. Trying to let Sherlock see everything he thought, everything he felt, he held it in his eyes, trying to communicate everything he needed Sherlock to know.
Sherlock was his everything. All he could ever want, all he could ever need. Sherlock was it all. He didn't want anything or anyone else. He just wanted to be here, in this moment, by this man's side for the rest of time.
It seemed an impossible lapse of time had passed before Sherlock's intense searching gaze turned soft and gentle. He leaned down to nudge his nose to the side of John's head softly and his whisper drifted over John's ear.
"People will talk."
John's eyes fluttered closed and a soft gush of air left his lungs in the form of a soft laugh.
"They do little else."