Sunlight pours through the windows of 221 B Baker Street.
It's beams cascading across the dusty rug, pooling at John's feet as watches from the corner, wishing he could sink away from the situation in front of him. Which consists of Sherlock having no compassion or sympathy for the crying client in front of him.
"It was your dog. Now get out." Sherlock interrupts the woman briskly. Turning away from the stunned client before he even finishes his sentence. Sinking deeper into his chair, his eyes immediately fade to a glaze of deep thought.
"Uh, follow me. Please." Watson says after a moment, gently urging the still stunned woman in front of him. "My dog?" She asks absently as she walks down the stairs and Watson shuts the door behind her with his eyes closed before turning to face his friend.
"Do you HAVE to be such a DICK?!" John asks as soon as the door shuts, running hands over his face. "She's quite dull. The answer was right in front of her. She let herself get blinded by grief." Sherlock answers, not even bothering a glance up from his trance.
John sighs, "Yes, well she's human Sherlock. We all have weaknesses. Whether they are physical like my limp, or emotional like that woman; we all have them." The veteran counters, but Sherlock simply gives a curt snort and continues to ignore his flat mate.
"Even you." Watson adds in warily, hoping to at least get a reaction out of the man. He is not disappointed.
"I-" Sherlock starts, his sharp gaze jerking up to meet John's. "-am not an average human. And I do not have childish weakness as such." With that, he clumsily gets up and stumbles into the kitchen for some bad tea.
The message is clear: Sherlock is hiding something.
Some sort of weakness. Something that makes him feel human and weak and ... childish? And as Sherlock's only friend, it is obviously John's duty to find out what this weakness could be.
'It will be helpful to have something to use against him when he decides to be an ass. This may be a very good thing after all.' The smaller man thinks to himself, allowing himself a grin.
Sherlock is in the kitchen drinking his tea, still ignoring John. Oblivious to his formulating scheme to discover Sherlock's so carefully hidden, human weakness.
~~~
The next couple days are uneventful.
With no case to delve into, it gives both men time to themselves. Sherlock is lounging on the couch in his pajamas while John sits in his chair pretending to read the day's newspaper.
"What." Sherlock asks, his eyes still eyes closed. Spoken like a statement but intended as a question.
"I didn't say anything." Watson answers after a moment, bewildered at the sudden comment. "You didn't have to. Your thoughts are deafening." Sherlock retorts, though this time he does open his eyes to stare at the war veteran.
Watson sighs and decides that cutting to the chase is better than trying to fool the genius. "You're human Sherlock. You are an incredible one no denying, but a human nonetheless. And the cost of humanity is weakness." John begins, noting how Holme's eyes are already taking on a guarded light.
"As soon as I mentioned you having a weakness a couple days ago, you got all flustered and retreated from the room. You're hiding something." Watson finishes his statement quickly, relieved to have it off is chest at least.
Sherlock doesn't answer aloud. But his face is slightly flushed now which is enough confirmation for Watson. "Holmes, stop ignoring me. I'm trying to help you. Accepting this is important."
Still only silence from Sherlock. John sighs once more, rises from his seat and walks towards his friend. "Hey." He says, snapping his fingers in front of his stoic friend's face.
Sherlock's eyes remain unfocused and uninterested. "Oye, stop ignoring me." John says once more, this time giving his friend a two-fingered poke for emphasis. But something peculiar occurs instead. Sherlock's eyes snap open, grabbing John's retreating hand with a slightly panicked look on his face.
"Don't do that." Sherlock says quietly, but his voice is not as authoritative as usual. It's timbre is higher pitched, overlaid with false confidence.
Watson is in shock. There is no way he's discovered Sherlock's weakness so fast, let alone by mistake. And there is even less of a possibility that his weakness could be that he is … ticklish.
And yet there is no denying it. Sherlock's panicked eyes give all confirmation he needed. However lucky and coincidental his discovery is, there is no way John is going to let this go.
Twisting out of his friends grip he pushes his knees onto the couch next to Sherlock and begins his assault.
~~~
"John!" The taller man yells, thrashing as he attempts to hold in his reaction to the surprise attack.
'How did the fool figure it out?! Brother just have told him, there is no way this is coincidence. Damn, stay away from my hips Watson!' Frantic thoughts race through Sherlock's mind as he struggles to escape.
As it turns out, tickling makes his mind palace useless. And his self defense even more so. He can barely function, let alone fight back. Oh the weakness, how he hates it.
"I'll stop when you admit that you have weaknesses Sherlock!" John says gleefully, not even trying to hide that he is thoroughly enjoying himself.
"S-stop, there is nohoho w-Ay-yy I'm saying thahat!" He responds, still trying to maintain his composure as Watson attacks his neck and torso.
Sherlock may be larger, but John's army training and general experience with dealing with Sherlock allows him to gain the upper hand quite quickly. The dark haired man is now immobile beneath Watson's knees, his arms pinned above his head as he is now forced to glare up at his friend.
Insults bloom on the edge of his tongue reflexively, but Sherlock holds them back, smart enough to know they would only egg his flat-mate on.
He tugs at his arms half-heartedly, but the genius knows it's futile. "John, I know your darkest secrets, if you continue this I will make sure every human in the world knows!" He chooses to threaten instead of insult, but the results are just the same.
John just laughs, "In that case, I'll just tell Molly and Greg that you're ticklish." Sherlock shuts up immediately at this comment. Though he does continue to glare at his traitorous friend.
The smaller man sets back to work poking and squeezing all around Sherlock's exposed torso. Grinning as his fingers slowly exploit the various weak points.
The farther up John moves, the more desperate Sherlock's struggling become. And the less control he has over his composure. He's finding himself fighting a smile as John exploits the muscles below his underarms. "Are armpits a bad spot Sherlock?" John teases, earning a deeper glare, but the venom in his eyes is dampened by the uncontained grin on his face.
'Dammit, dammit, dammit.'
~~~
John digs into Sherlock's underarms and what little composure Sherlock still maintained over himself, dissolves into loud and frantic laughter. John had never truly heard Sherlock laugh. Not fully, not like this. With no boundaries or reservations.
"JOHOHOHN STOHOHOP! THIHIHIS IS CHILDIHIHISH!" Sherlock cries out over his laughter, squeezing his eyes shut and pulling on his arms hopelessly. "That's the point Sherlock. Admit that you are just as human as everyone else and that you have weaknesses. Then I'll think about stopping." John responds cheekily.
"WATSON! THIS IHIHIS HUMILIATING!" Holmes continues, kicking his legs. "PLEAHAHASE WATSON, PLEASEEE!" Sherlock adds on, the feigned authority from earlier quickly dissolving beneath John's wiggling fingertips.
A wave of sympathy washes over Watson seeing his friend like this. Sherlock isn't used to being so vulnerable. But deep down, John knows this is good for Sherlock. Though it still makes him sad to see the great Sherlock Holmes reduced to such a state.
"Just admit it Holmes" John says in exasperation, letting up slightly on his tickling. "Please stop Watson." Sherlock pants, his stubbornness is quite resilient. John would be impressed if it wasn't so frustrating.
"Why is this so important to you, John?" Holmes continues, opening his eyes again to glance at his friend above him. A genuine look of curiosity is apparent in his gaze.
"Because it's good for you to admit it." John replies honestly. "Anyway, enough breaktime." He continues, launching back into his one-hand attack. Pinching Sherlock's ribs, swiping up and down his sides, a couple of randomly placed pokes to keep Sherlock guessing, and a full on attack on his armpits every few moments.
Soon Sherlock is begging again, going mad from humiliation and laughter. "PLEASE JOHN. ILL DOHOHO ANYTHINGGG!" He screams, thrashing all over the couch trying gain leverage to maneuver out of the veteran's grip.
"Dammit it Sherlock! Just bloody say it!" Watson yells back in frustration. "Stop being to stubborn and admit it, you damn fool!" John is out of patience, giving it everything his has as he digs all ten fingers into Sherlock's underarms.
"OK!!!! JUST STOHOP!" Sherlock begs through his hysterics, barley able to breath now. "I ADMIT IT! I ADMIT I AM HUHUHMAN AND THAT I HAHAHVE WEAKNESSES. NOW STAHAHAP!" The genius cries out, no longer caring who can hear him. He just needed it to stop.
John considers continuing, but decides the man has had enough. For now.
Sherlock's forehead is gleaming with a thin layer of sweat, his hair is matted and pressed on his forehead. But the grin remains on his face even as he lays gasping for air.
John gets up from his friend and lets him gather himself. "Thank you" Sherlock says breathlessly after another moment. Then, he snaps up and glares at John. "Don't you dare ever do that again. And don't even THINK about telling anyone. I'm already plotting my revenge against my brother for telling you." He mumbles darkly, though his threat carries little weight given his defeated stature.
But John just looks confused when he says this. "Your brother? Sherlock, I found out on my own. Totally on accident." He admits in bewilderment.
Then he stops, realizing. "Wait, are you telling me your brother used to hold you down and tickle you to tears when you were young?!" Watson asks, his mouth open with a beaming smile.
Sherlock goes red and immediately attempts to think of a way to backpedaled from situation. No such luck prevails.
"Oh what a good day indeed" Watson says, his smile growing wider. All this new information in one afternoon. 221B is about to get a lot more interesting.
But first, Watson needs to have a chat with Sherlock's Brother.