Wrote this for a oneshot originally, but realized that it didn't follow the theme and was hard to follow up on...
Greg always told me to stay away from him. I don't listen that well, nor do I like being bossed around. Then I realized that other people were telling me that too. They kept saying how psychotic he is, how he might have murdered someone, how he stares at people randomly in the middle of class.
I started to listen, but only a little.
Every time I pass him in the hallway, I can see him watching me from the corner of his eye. Valerie always waves at him, and he smiles back shyly. Mathew walks on the other side of the hallway, saying he can smell the chemicals on him. He didn't look like the stuff people said he did.
Sure he's intimidating, being so tall, and me being so short. I haven't had a growth spurt since the sixth grade. He's thin as a rail, and looms over everyone else. He would duck in doorways because he was so tall.
He always has that shy smile on his face, but people have told me how he's gotten sent down to the office in class because he was snarky with a teacher. It was always in science class. People would look at me weird when I would laugh at what he did.
"He literally drew all over the posters, and explained how they were wrong..."Mathew gaped.
"She's deserves it. Nasty grumpy old thing.."I muttered.
"We can't get anything done in class because of him."He added, furious.
"I hate science anyways, I rather be doing nothing..."I replied, Mathew huffed and gave up.
-
"Here are your partner for this month's assignment!"The teacher exclaimed over the chatter, "Matt with Mathew, ha! Will and Sophia, Lily and Valerie, John and William..."
John heard a loud groan across the room, "She knows it's Sherlock.."
John watched as the tall figure walked slowly across the isles, trying to get to him.
"Hello, I'm Sherlock. You're friends with Valerie, I assume..."He gestured to Valerie, who was almost drooling over her partner.
"Yeah, I'm John."John responded, and they awkwardly shook hands.
Sherlock lifted a chair off the ground and put it next to John's desk. They looked over the instructions and began to type on their individual computers.
-
"You got Sherlock, huh."Greg said. They sat at the sticky lunch tables. Valerie munched on a sandwich while excitedly telling Molly about her pretty project partner.
"Yeah. He's nice."John answered.
Mathew giggled, "You're stuck with him!"
"He actually was pretty normal. He wasn't as stubborn as people make him."John replied, rolling his eyes at Mathew.
"You haven't MET HIM, met him yet.."Mathew told, eyes bulging at his own words
"Mhm."John said, "Whatever, drama queen.."
-
John waited at the front door, foot tapping in nervous impatience. He heard Sherlock yell from upstairs a few minutes ago, telling him to give him a few minutes. Then he heard spontaneous arguing. Sherlock's voice booming through the house, vibrating against the door.
"Hey, uh, sorry. Come in. Please."Sherlock greeted, out of breath.
"Ok.."John replied, stepping into the house, "Woah. Nice house."
"Parent earn lots of money from nowhere. It's odd, but neat."Sherlock states.
"Is this your 'boyfriend', Sherlock?" John heard a snarky voice from upstairs. A red headed man with a nice tailored suit walked down half way.
John sweated nervously under his eyes. He did feel like the boyfriend at that moment. The man's nose was like a hook, and there was a single curl on his forehead.
"No, John is my partner for the project we are doing. Piss off fatty."Sherlock snarled. John realized this was the person he was arguing with.
"Don't make a mess of the house. Don't want to make Mummy upset!"The man exclaimed, before slamming I door upstairs.
"Smartass. I'm sorry about that. He loves to make my life difficult."Sherlock groaned, leading John upstairs.
John was unsure how to respond, but, "Ok.", Seemed fine.
-
The project went smoothly, except for a couple times when his brother, Mycroft, ducked in. Sherlock would start ranting as soon as the door closed. Clearly stressed.
"I got a sister. She's decent, sometimes we argue."I said, Sherlock was looking down.
"I just wish he would go away like he usually does. He doesn't talk to me this much usually."Sherlock complained, "I rather him not talk to me than argue with him."
(Stopped writing here)
Based on 'all the lonely nights in your life' by American Pleasure Club and Teen Suicide
John gazes out the window for the fourth time today. His eyes gravitating towards the pale bloke on the front lawn, smoke coming out of his mouth. John sighs. He missed Sherlock. He hadn't seen him all day and the boys were nearly inseparable. John always went over to Sherlock's house after school. He always ate dinner with Sherlock's family. He always gave Sherlock's mom a kiss on the cheek before he went out the door.
He never liked Sherlock smoking his brains out when he was stressed. When he would think to much. When his hands would shake. When the itching thoughts of his sister was in his brain.
Eurus was Sherlock's pressure point. John had never met her, as they met in middle school. She had tried to kill Sherlock and his best friend, Victor. John likes to call middle school B.P.S , as in 'before pirate Sherlock'. Sherlock's mom would gush every Thanksgiving with his mom and sister with the photo album of young, puff ball Sherlock running around with Victor as they beat Mycroft with their wood swords that his father made him.
John giggled at this thought. The days before the PTSD and the nicotine patches aligned his arms.
"Is there something you would like to tell the class, Mr.Watson?" His Maths teacher exclaimed, John had realized he had been chuckling out loud.
John turned beat red, "No, Mrs.Hudson. I'm good. May I go to the bathroom?"
"Be back in 15 minutes or detention. I see who you're looking at outside. I'm not stupid, Watson." Mrs.Hudson smirks at him.
"Thank you.." John smiles thankfully, and rushes out the classroom.
-
"John." Sherlock states as John makes his way onto the front lawn.
"What's bugging you today?" John asks.
"The well. The park layout. How did she get him there? Everything!" Sherlock takes a large breath.
"Maybe you should go back to class, Sherl. You need to learn something."John states.
"The class is pointless."Sherlock whines, "Gym class sucks."
They stand in silence for a while, John can see his own breath. Sherlock nose and cheeks are a Rosey red as they enjoy each other company. John takes the cigarette out of his mouth, and throws in on the ground, and steps on it.
"Come on. I only have a few more minutes until have to be back to class. Just forge a nurse pass and you'll be fine." John says, dragging Sherlock into the building.
"Fine."Sherlock whines still, pouting like a child.
"I'm here for you Sherlock. Just remember that."
"Okay John." Sherlock states before walking away swiftly, slipping off his clothes as it drags on the floor.
"Sherlock Holmes. You've captured my heart." John sighs walking around the corner.
-
John rings up Sherlock on his phone while waiting for the tube. His phone ringer for a few seconds before Sherlock answers, "Hello John."
"I'll be over soon. I just wanted someone to talk to while I'm on the tube. Did you see the new episode of Doctor Who?" John asks.
"Who hasn't John? All of London watches Doctor Who. New episodes might as well get us a day off from school, its like a holiday." Sherlock states, John rolls his eyes.
"You just want a day off from school." John teases Sherlock.
"Yes, John. Everyone there is incompetent except for you and Molly." Sherlock smile can be heard for over the phone, its so bright.
-
"John you have to tell him!"Molly whispers as they walk behind Sherlock. John felt like Sherlock's shadow because he blocked the sun from his eyes.
"I know, I know. But I don't know how Sherlock will handle it. He's been having a tough time...always...and I don't want to make it worse."John whispers back, and sighs at his on longing words.
"Maybe he just needs a little push. There's nothing wrong with that."Molly suggests.
"I don't want to be the person to do that, Molly."
"You have to. You can't just keep pinning for him forever."Molly pokes John and he laughs.
"I know..I just don't know how."John says, sighing
-
"This is the third day Sherlock has been late for school."Molly said, worried.
"I know, he said he's not feeling well. I don't believe him." John was worried, you could see it his cobalt eyes and how they scrunched and shimmered. How his throat tightened Everytime he talked.
"What should we do?"Molly asked, also as worried for Sherlock as John was.
"I'm going to go over to his house. See you tommorow, Molly!"He calls out to her as he walks out the front doors of the school.
-
John sneaked up the side of Sherlock's house and jostled open the window. He slipped into the house and saw Sherlock in the fetal position on his bed.
"Sherl. Sherlock!" John said shaking Sherlock by his shoulders.
"She drowned him. She burned our house down. How could she?"Sherlock murmured.
"People suck, Sherlock."That was the only excuse John had, "And she sucked bad."
"She more than sucked John! She was horrible. You don't understand. She wanted to kill me!"Sherlock yelled, his voice hoarse.
John face scrunched and he smiled at sherlock, "Maybe I would understand if you didn't lock yourself in your room for days. Not talk to me or Molly without us talking to you first."
"John. I'm just....scared." Sherlock breathed his words out, shaking as he did so.
John wrapped his arms around his shoulder as Sherlock sobbed into his knees. John held him, playing with his curls, smelling his shampoo.
-
One thing Sherlock loved was John's singing. John knew how to play the guitar really well and loved to learn new songs and show his songs.
Sherlock was honestly impressed with his vocals. Even though John spoke so roughly, his singing voice was so soft, so breathy. He could listen to it for hours.
Molly had discovered that their school was having a talent show. Her and Sherlock beamed at the thought of John showing his talents to other people except Sherlock and Molly.
"Really guys?" John asked, he blinked as Mrs.Holmes took a picture of John with his guitar as Molly and Sherlock squished him like a sandwich in the middle. They all giggled with each other.
"Yes really, John."Sherlock said, he looked longingly at him as they all gave him good luck hugs.
"You need to tell him Sherlock, you can't be pinning for him forever!"Molly teased as John walked backstage, almost knocking into backdrop they had built for the musical.
"I know, Molly...I just...don't know how.."Sherlock sighed as she took his hand.
They sat in their seats and chattered about how stupid Anderson was going to look doing stand up comedy, how good Geoff? Gary? Gerald? Greg? Whatever his name was, was at the piano.
Sherlock tensed slightly when the small theatre darkened, and John came on stage with a shy smile.
-
John smiled and waved, ducking his head while putting the guitar strap around his shoulder. He rested his elbow on the guitar and sat in the stool. He laughed as he heard Molly and Mrs.Holmes' screams from the audience.
"This is John Watson, with "All The Lonely Nights in Your Life" by American Pleasure Club" The music arts teacher stated, clapping with the microphone still it her hand.
A single spotting shined into John eyes. The theatre going dark with the faint yells from his soccer team.
"Well, thank you." John blushed under the light, sweat starting to pool on his forehead, " This is for a certain curly haired bloke who I've known since middle school."
He starts to strum his guitar and sings softly into the microphone.
I see you smoking on the lawn
You must be skipping class today
My heart stops for a second or two
All I want is to be near to you
Sherlock gasps slightly, remember the day when him and John would sit on the lawn while he smoked. The bags under their eyes and the stains on John's ripped up jeans
Waiting for a train to come
Wondering if I should call
It feels so familiar now to me
Like I've heard this all before
And somebody loves you
It's been that way for a month or two
His leg begins to jump and Molly snickers, "Hm, a curly hair bloke he known since middle school. Wonder who he's talking about." Sherlock smacks her playfully on the hand.
If all the lonely nights in your life
Piled up to block the sun
Are you crying into the kitchen sink?
Are you sleeping in too long?
Somebody loves you
It's been that way for a year or two
I'd wait a lifetime
Just for a chance to call you mine
Just for a chance to make you mine
-
Sherlock's breath escapes from his mouth as Molly starts screaming and cheering for John. He sees John move in the stool uncomfortably.
"Thank you."He says before the lights go out. Anderson walk out of stage patting John on the shoulder. Sherlock instinctivly rolls his eyes.
"Excuse me.." he muttered as he makes his way through as isle of people.
He rushes down the oddly sticky stairs and barges into the backstage door. He is met face to face with John and he smiles, John sighs playing with the Hem of his shirt.
"Hi."John says quietly.
"Hello, John." Sherlock takes a step forward toward john and grabs his hand. "Thank you."
John smiles at Sherlock kisses him shyly on the cheek, "It was really good. Your voice is beautiful."
They hug each other, hanging onto each other like it's the end of the world.
-
This story is one of my favorite stories I've ever written.
3rd Person Sherlock POV
Sherlock enjoyed teaching middle schoolers. They always have been the biggest critics. He enjoyed them watching his every move, waiting for him to mess up, waiting for him to drop a vile.
A young blonde girl with bags under her eyes walked into his class, she looked overwhelmed and her glasses were slightly askew from being broken multiple times.
A boy with olive skin sat next to her and talked to her nonchalantly. She sighed when she responded. Her shoulder bunched up, clearly uncomfortable.
Clearly has had a bad start to the day, slept in this morning. she stepped in multiple puddles on the way to a psychiatrist!
Sherlock's eyes scanned the room as a frantic teacher with silver-blond colored hair made his way into the room. He wore a hoodie with their softball team's logo on the sleeve and a white T-shirt with cargo pants.
"I need to speak with Rosamund for a second." He says, then turns around and lead the tired girl into the hallway.
Kids murmured in confusion as the blonde walks out of the room reluctantly.
Sherlock tensed up in the shoulders. He wished he could take another look at the man, but a wooden door blocked him from sight.
Clearly was in the military by his stance, limps slightly, but it is a psychological limp. He stopped limping once he looked at the girl. Name, John H. Watson, shown on the name tag on his lanyard.
Sherlock shrugs off his sudden thoughts and goes through attendance. The room became silent as he yelled names while mispronouncing majority of them.
"Rosamund Watson!" He shouts, lifting his head up to see them talking other each other in the hallway, his hand is touching her arm and she is clearly on the break of tears.
"Oh." He replies to him thoughts softly. Clearing his head again he continues, curious.
-
Rosamund or 'Rosie' Watson hasn't shown up to class, a matter of fact, the school in a week. Being Sherlock, he assumed she wasn't sick. It being warm weather and also by her mental state.
But he has to admit, Rosamund is extremely clever. Every single piece of homework for his Excel classes her father bring in is above and beyond what he would expect from a 13-year-old.
Being the curious and nosy person Sherlock is, he went to the gym to check on the dashing Mr.Watson.
"Hello, Mr.Watson. How is your daughter doing?"Sherlock asked, handing John a large stack of papers with Rosie's homework.
"Frankly, not very well. She hasn't been feeling well this whole week. It's horrible."John says awkwardly, before looking back to his computer and setting the papers under in on his lap
"No, she's not."Sherlock states.
"Excuse me?"John asks, surprised.
"I said, no she's not. I just can't figure out what's making her this upset"
John sighs, "Her mother died a couple months ago in a shooting. I thought she deserved some time off. So, I'm keeping her out of school for a couple weeks and bringing her homework home for her."
Sherlock takes a deep breath in, John grabs onto to his own wrist and squeezes it.
"I'm... I'm sorry for your lost, John." Sherlock says, "Gosh I feel horrible. This is really none of my business."
"It's fine. She's just been having a hard time with having to move away, and we haven't been doing well financially." John sighs, "I really shouldn't be telling you all this.."
"If you two need anything. I've got enough money in my pockets to help. My brother he-"John interrupts Sherlock suddenly, putting his hand on Sherlock's upper arm.
"Thank you, but I think we'll be good on our own." John forces a smile on his face as Sherlock gives him a look of sympathy.
They greet each other goodbye as kids flood through the doors, racing to the locker room as Sherlock decides to completely ignore John's wishes.
-
3rd Person John POV
John stood at the door astonished and Mr.Sherlock Holmes stood in the rain, frowning as she has large plastic bags hanging from his hands.
Rosie giggled and gasped as she looked out the curtained window.
"It's Mr.Holmes, Dad! Where'd he come from?" Rosie giggled, knowing about John's recent interactions with 'Mr.Holmes.'.
John pulled a smile and opened the door, pulling Sherlock in and grabbing his coat. Rosie stood at the top of the stairs, trying not to smile.
"I got you two some food. I know that you-"Sherlock was interrupted.
"Yes, thank you,"John said, standing awkwardly as Rosie rushed down the stairs.
"Would you like to join us for dinner?!"She questioned rather loudly, John nudging her slightly.
"Sure, but there might not be enough-"Sherlock was interrupted again.
"It's fine! Right, dad?"Rosie exclaimed again.
John nodded speechless, letting her daughter lead Sherlock up the stairs. Giggling slightly as he almost hit his head on the ceiling fan.
-
3rd Person
"Rosamund-"
"Rosie!"
"Well, Rosie has been doing very well in my class. I can't imagine what her other grades are like!" Sherlock states, making a loud screeching noise with the unstable bar stool he was sitting in.
"She says your class is her favorite, so I'm not surprised. She tells me you like to 'observe' students. What does that mean?"John asks, slightly leaning across the table. Rosie giggled at the thought.
"Oh yeah!" Rosie giggles yet again, her face slightly red from giggling, Sherlock smiles at her.
"I can tell everything about a student just by 'observing' them," Sherlock says, John raises his eyebrow.
"He likes to pick on the kids who misbehave!" Rosie laughs.
"Yeah," Sherlock replies.
"Interesting. Maybe you should come into my period 5 class, they're a bunch of idiots."
The two teacher exchange many stories, mostly on Rosie and the kids in their classes. All three of them work together to make a disaster of a dinner.
-
3rd Person John POV
John is astounded. Rosie barely talks at home, usually spending the majority of the time in her room listening to music and doing homework. But now, her and Sherlock are arguing while playing operation on their dusty stained carpet.
A frustrated groan comes out of Sherlock as the buzzer goes off, John looks over the find small pieces all over the floor, Rosie is giggling as Sherlock is glaring at the trouble man on the gameboards' glowing red nose.
"I thought you would be good at this!" Rosie giggled as John sat down on the carpet with them.
"Apparently I'm not!"Sherlock groans annoyed, glaring as his own, unsteady hands.
"Rosie I think its time for bed," John says, Rosie pouts for a second, even Sherlock whines a bit.
"Bu- Oh, nevermind! Goodnight Mr.Holmes, goodnight Dad!" She rushes into the hallways, almost knocking over a shelf.
"Watch where you're going! Turn off the hall light!" John yells and then chuckles. He watches as Sherlock moves slightly closer to him.
"Now that she's off to bed, do you want to watch a movie or something?"John offers Sherlock nods, sitting down on the couch as John searches through old DVDs.
-
"I don't really know what's up with her today! She's so talkative and friendly. She's usually quite shy around people!"John says, shaking his head.
"She's usually talking all the time in my class. She does a lot of my extra-curricular too." Sherlock replies.
"Thank you for bringing all the food, we honestly really needed it. I don't have a very good salary as a gym teacher..."John says, making eye contact with Sherlock, smiling.
"Anything for you, "Sherlock says softly.
John's eyes widen slightly as Sherlock grabs his hand, finger intertwining. He takes a deep breath in as Sherlock leans in and their lips brush, John's hands moving up Sherlock's side. Sherlock pulls away and blushes, his hands are warm and clammy. He lets go and wipes his palms on his dress pants.
John pulls back in, wanting more than just a brush of the lips. He moves his lips against Sherlock's. John smiles into the kiss, running his hands through the biology teacher's hair. He pulls back and looks into Sherlock's eyes, and smiles brightly as he wraps his arms around his neck.
John notices how his purple dress shirt fits him tightly, the buttons nearly about to come off. He smiles at Sherlock and snuggles into his side, kissing his neck and turning his head back to watch to the movie as Sherlock puts his arm around him.
-
Rosie 3rd Person POV
Rosie smiles and looks at Mr.Holmes as he takes off his coat and scarf. His sits down at his desk and starts typing on his computer, ignoring the room full of children waiting for him to start class.
"Mr.Holmes!" Rosie yells, giggling slightly.
"Yes Rosie, what is-. Oh, ok." Sherlock adjusts himself and starts typing furiously on his computer. He plugs it in and pulls up a bland slideshow, which has curiously changed from the color gray to a vibrant blue.
"We'll be taking notes today about solvents and solutes, and solubility."Sherlock states before turning the next slides, which was a bright red.
A kid snickers before raising his hand, Rosie smiles devilishly at the boy next to him as Sherlock point at the boy.
"What?"Sherlock asks.
"Are you dating the gym teacher?"The boy asks.
"Why might you ask?"Sherlock said, turning slightly red.
"Rosie said I should ask."The boy states, pointing his finger at her. She smiles innocently, then looks back up the board to copy down notes.
-
Rosie sits in the back of the rows during gym, unfortunately. She watches as her father paces from side to side of the gym, calling out names with a smile of his face.
John knows that Rosie doesn't like his class, and neither does he. He had to deal with so much bullshit when you have to teach 13 years old NOT to spray ax in people faces and NOT to hit people directly in the face with the ball.
As her father murmured to himself, checking off names, Mr.Holmes seemed to invite himself into the gym, obviously picking the lock to the gym door.
"Hi, Mr.Holmes!" She yelled, and John perked up at these words. He turned around and speed walked over to the tall dark man, who was in his coat and scarf.
-
3rd Person John POV
John walked over to Sherlock, happy to see him after such a long day. Sherlock squeezed his hand slightly and set the plastic bags down in his office.
"I brought some more groceries. I know you didn't eat today so I also brought you a sandwich, if that's ok."Sherlock says, squeezing John's side slightly.
"Sherlock you don't have to-" John says, before being interrupted.
"I want to. You guys need it. And I know I don't need any more shirts so I might as well use the money for something worthwhile."
"Thank you," John says in a hushed voice and kisses Sherlock on the cheek.
Murmurs arise as John pulls away, looking Sherlock in the eyes.
Sherlock rushes himself out of the gymnasium and John starts his class again.
-
Another tough case for Sherlock Holmes, and another tough week for John who has to deal with his shit! Sherlock is very emotionally blocked and very unsympathetic. So when John says he had a bad day at work, or that he ran out of money while shopping for food. Sherlock just continues to talk and talk about his cases or he just doesn't respond at all.
"I might as well face it, people suck!"John complained to the bartender.
"Yeah." The bartender agrees, "You don't know how many assholes I've had to kick out of this place. Half the time they weren't even drunk!"
John asks for another drink, and the bartender complies.
"But you know, I love him. Sometimes he's such a caring guy. But he expressed it in his own way!"John exclaims.
"I have a friend just like that. She usually likes to play for the bar on the stage or do karaoke here."The bartender gazes towards the soon to be filled stage.
"The blond-haired bloke?"John asks, curiously.
"Yeah, she's not a bloke though. She's just 'special'."
"My friend is the same way..."John says, "Thanks for actually listening to my bullshit..."
"No problem." The bartender says, "The next time you need to let off some steam, just ask for Juliana. I'm here most nights since I don't have classes at night."
"Thanks."John sighs, before turning his head to the stage as the microphone gives feedback.
"Uh, sorry." The girl says while adjusting herself in the chair, "I'm just gonna sing a couple songs, and I don't guarantee that they're going to amazing. But I get paid for this, so screw it!"
John listened half-hearted to the songs and he chugged more drinks, Juliana sneaking in a couple shots of water.
"That was Hercule by 4th Curtis, my next song and very last song is Bring It On Home To Me by Sam Cooke."
John gasped all of a sudden and rushed out of the bar. He knocked over chairs and rattled tables on the way out.
"Was I that bad?" He could hear the girl exclaim and the door closed slowly behind him.
He almost fell in it the street as he called for a cab, he clammered in and gave the address and told the driver to hurry.
-
3rd Person Sherlock POV
Sherlock sat on the couch for a few hours. He was completely clueless on what he did. He was acting normal, the regular Sherlock, nothing new.
Days upon days of arguing with Anderson, being insulted by Donovan, and being forced by John to call Lestrade to apologize for his 'outrageous' behavior.
Hours upon hours on analyzing what happened this week, what he did on a case, how John's workday was. Sherlock had no answers, nothing seemed to be wrong.
John burst through the door and Sherlock coiled back in surprise to watch John as he gripped into the doorframe, collapsing.
"John?Jawnn?!"Sherlock rushed over as John stirred, swaying back and forth.
"Sherl!"John exclaimed, struggling to get up. Sherlock grabbed his forearm and forced him on to the couch.
"How many drinks did you have?"Sherlock demanded, John giggled at the thought.
"Enough for you to get.."John paused, trying to catch up with his own words, "Fucking hammered!!"
Sherlock sighed as John murmured about the Stag party. His eyes looking down at his hands, seeming fascinated with his bitten nails.
"John, you need to go to bed," Sherlock said, frustrated, tugging John up by his forearm.
"Why are you so...boring...It's the same thing every week.."John mumbled, complaining, "John, get me this! John, listen to me complain for hours on end!"
Sherlock looked down at John, confused, "Me? Boring?"
"You...heard what I...said, "John mumbled, collapsing onto his bed, the spring squeaking as he bounced.
Sherlock began to walk out the door, trying to ignore John's ramblings until he heard one hopeful word, "Sherlock, stay."
-
3rd Person John POV
No matter what the consulting detective does, John always forgives him. It's a weakness he has, kind of like a teenager with their first love.
John remembers little parts of the night, collapsing in the doorway, talking to the bartender, and telling Sherlock he was boring.
Well, that wasn't exactly the truth. Of course, sometimes Sherlock can go days without moving, organizing his mind palace. They don't go out to dinner unless it's for a case or if Sherlock wants to eat, which is rare.
Like Sherlock, John likes to keep his mind occupied.
This train of thought escaped his head when a feeling of warmth and a killer headache waded through him. He groaned and tossed and turned. Wanting pain medication, but also wanting to stay in his pile of blankets.
As he turned, his eyes caught a tuff of curls poking through the blanket, "Morning John." The tuff of curls spoke.
John giggled as Sherlock moved closer to him, "Please don't move, I'm rather comfy."
Surprisingly calm, John ran his hands through the tuff of curls poking through the blankets, Sherlock making a small noise in response.
Maybe this could add something new to their life.
3rd Person John POV
John scrolled through online articles daily, scanning through book reviews and even articles about Sherlock and him. He had signed up for a newsletter that he would get in his email, just to look at when he was bored.
As John scanned, he notices that his email notifications went from '7' to '8' and he got curious. The email read 'Invitation: London Writer's Convention' and John instantly got excited.
He quickly scanned through the invitation, telling him where his booth would be if he came, and what days he would come. John quickly sent a reply of 'Yes' and slammed his computer shut, smiling enthusiastically.
-
Two weeks passed and John's head buzzed with excitement. He never really thought about how many people read his blog.
He decides to go onto his computer and type a quick blog update:
"Going to the 2018 London Writer's Convention! Hope to see some of you there!"
He clicked the post button and waited patiently for any replies, realizing people wouldn't see it for a while, he decided to scan through the internet, going through articles upon articles about recent murders that Sherlock maybe would want to investigate.
Sherlock. The door swung open dramatically as the flamboyant detective walked in and leaned over John's shoulder to read, muttering things like 'boring', or 'easy', or 'even Anderson could solve that'.
John's pulse quickened as he felt Sherlock's fingers drum on his shoulder self-consciously. He side eyed Sherlock's hands. Sherlock rested his chin on John's head as John scrolled through his computer, careful to not be obvious.
Quickened pulse? Take deep breaths and calm your shit. Dilated pupils? Don't look at him, you idiot. John tries his best.
John clicks on his blog, which ringed with a new notification:
"Bring the Ear Hat!"
Sherlock walks away, bored, as John scanned through the other comments:
"Are you signing anything?"
"Is Sherlock going to be there too?"
"You should bring in evidence from one of your cases! Like the Woman's phone from 'The Study in Pink'!"
Or:
"Can't wait to see you there!"
John took a deep breath and smiled at the comments.
-
John sat awkwardly at a white table. He scanned through his laptop yet again, bored. White pieces of paper and sharpie to his left, and the Ear Hat to his write. He groaned as his phone vibrated in his pocket.
When are you going to be home?
-SH
I'll be home at five, don't destroy anything!
-JW
I can't make that promise.
-SH
John chuckled slightly and set his phone down. His eyes met a young girl with blonde hair, her fringe hanging in front of her box like glasses. Her smile was warm, and she was calm compared to the other people he had seen today.
"Hi," She said, her voice soft.
"I recognize you! I read some of your poems. They're really good!"John exclaimed, she blushed slightly at the compliment.
"Thanks, I try my best." She says, "But you're really good! I love how you write about your partner, Sherlock. I almost feel like I was there with you at the crime scene!"
John and the girl go back and forth, he pulls her up a chair and they continue to talk about the news, books they've read, and recent murders in the newspaper.
-
John's leg bounced as sat in a stool at a coffee shop. He breathed in the smell of the hot cocoa and brewing coffee as he typed frantically on his computer. Since meeting Valerie, John has decided to write in other genres. Instead of writing about Sherlock and John solving difficult cases, he writes about a cunning military man who now works as a D.I for the London police.
"What you writin'?"Valerie asked, peaking over John's shoulder, he smiles at her.
"Crime Story, "John answers, closing his laptop as she sits across from him.
"Neat."She says, sipping her hot cocoa and wincing as it burns her tongue, "What did you want to meet up for?"
"Oh, I just wanted some advice..."John muttered the last part.
"Sherlock?"She asked, curious but excited.
He adjusted himself in the chair uncomfortably, "Yeah.."
"It's nothing to worry about John. If you don't want me to, I won't tell anyone."Valerie said John looked away from her eye contact, uncertain.
"It's just..I've never really had..feelings..about..a guy...before, at all."John's voice unconsciously went hushed, trying to push out his words.
"Sherlock is special I guess. Am I right?"Valerie asked.
"Yeah, I guess, "John replied.
"Well then let's ask him out, in a special way!"Valerie exclaimed.
"What do you mean?" John asked. Valerie smiled as she started on asking what Sherlock liked, what he disliked.
-
Why does he have to be so picky?
-VM
It's Sherlock! Like you said, he's special. I don't think I'll ever be able to live up to his expectations
-JW
I'm sure this will work. 100%
-VM
Thanks Val.
-JW
-
"Who is 'Valerie Malone'?"Sherlock asked, "Have I met her?"
"I met her at the convention. She going to come over today if that's alright."John said, looking at Sherlock, then darting his eyes back to his hands before Sherlock could deduce him.
"Uh. Ok."Sherlock walked away and spread himself on the couch again, going into his mind palace.
-
Third Person Sherlock POV
Sherlock was absolutely pissed, peeved. John has found another girl, another girl! Sherlock has been trying to make to obvious for months that he liked John. Slightly touching, intense eye contact, leaning into him when they watch crap telly.
He's never been so aggravated, so impatient. But, he doesn't want to make the first move. The 'High Functioning Sociopath' Sherlock Holmes is terrified to even ask John on a date.
And this 'Valerie Malone' just ruined his chances. Gosh, he was going to make her hate him, make her hate him until she stormed out of the apartment, mascara running down her face. A 'Game of Cluedo' hatred.
Sherlock laid himself carelessly across the couch and made sure not to move as John open the door to Valerie. She greeted him enthusiastically and he hugged her.
-
Third Person John POV
"Is that Sherlock?" Valerie murmured to John, gesturing at Sherlock himself, who had decided not to shave this week, or put on clothes. He sat in his Navy Blue robe, hair greasy.
"Yeah."John whispered back, "He hasn't been in a very good mood lately."
Valerie winced in response before she sat in Sherlock's chair and John sat in his. Sherlock suddenly leaped from his mind palace and stomped towards Valerie.
"That's my chair," Sherlock stated.
"And?"Valerie answered, a challenge.
"It's my chair," Sherlock said, John chuckled, as he watched the two most stubborn people he knows argue. It's a waste of energy to stop them.
John crossed his feet in his chair as Valerie looked at him, concerned. And he shrugged. Valerie sat, still as a statue as Sherlock was forced to pull up a desk chair and sit in it dramatically.
-
Third Person Sherlock POV
Sherlock was relieved, but also pissed. He hated everything about this girl. He hated how she leaned in when she talked to John, how she chewed gum constantly, how she ran her hands through her hair Everytime she began to talk.
But he could tell that she was not sexually attracted to his John Watson. She had a short hair cut, dyed blonde, originally brown, which was short for a regular woman, and she wore man's dress shirts. She basically screamed lesbian, even a regular person besides Sherlock could see it.
Sherlock starred at his hands as he thought, "What is her purpose? John isn't usually very social at all. He only known her for a third of a month!"
Sherlock counted, 24 days on the dot. How do they know each other so well in such little time?
Sherlock watched as they talked back and forth, like they're known each other for years, transfixed in a game of Mille Borne (French card game, the only thing I could think of).
-
Third Person John POV
Sherlock is...quite the character..
-VM
I'm right across the room from you, why can't you just talk to me
-JW
He could hear me
-VM
Val he's in his 'Mind Palace', I think you'll be fine
-JW
You're an odd man, John Watson
-VM
I've gotten used to it, it's normal
-JW
"That's interesting."Valerie said out loud, "Such a tolerant man you are."
John had no response, except for a small shrug and Valerie laughed quietly as she got up from her chair.
John watched as Sherlock sat up and opened his eyes, blinking a couple times before standing up completely.
"Goodbye Valerie."Sherlock said, nonchalant.
John walked her to the front door and smiled at her awkwardly as they passed through the front door, Ms.Hudson wishing her goodbyes with a wide smile, clearly enjoying Valerie's presence.
"Well he didn't like me."Valerie said, stating the obvious.
"He doesn't like anyone."John laughed, she joined in too.
"Oh so relatable."She said, before greeting him goodbye and grabbing a cab as John closed the door, a grabbing onto a breath, pressing himself against the doorframe.
-
John had planned this for oh so long. Many nights of self-doubt, and being comforted by Valerie. Telling him many rejection stories, and that Sherlock Holmes would be ignorant to reject a man like John Watson.
This brought a smile to his face, but his thoughts did not go away. He knew Sherlock would able to see he nervousness, how he kept adjusting his collar furiously. Grabbing at his throat because it felt so dry, so painful, as he thought of different outcomes.
Now he felt how Sherlock felt. Not being able to calm down his brain, just wanting to shut down or distract himself. John listened to music, worked on his story, played online solitaire, and yet he couldn't get the thoughts of Sherlock out of his head.
His pale skin, or how you could see his collar bones by the way he buttoned up his shirt, or how his curls seemed perfectly placed on his head. He was like a love-stuck teenager.
John tucked his shirt into his pants for the fourth time before walking down the stairs, making his foot steps obvious. He wandered his way into the kitchen as Sherlock accidentally dropped some chemicals into a coffee mug, he scrunched his nose as it bubbled, reacting with the heat and water in the tea.
"Yes John?" Sherlock asked, making eye contact with him, John grabbed onto his shirt bottom, pulling out some of the part that was tucked in.
"Would you like to go out the park tonight?"John asked, murmuring.
"What?"Sherlock said, stepping closer.
"So you want to go on a date, at the park?"John said, his throat stung.
Sherlock smiled, "Sure John, that would be amazing.", He grabbed at John's hand and squeezed it.
-
Holy shit it worked
-JW
There you go!
-VM
What do I do now?
-JW
I'm out of the picture now, have a good time now John. Romance the shit out the poor bloke!
-VM
I'll try
-JW
-
Third Person Sherlock POV
Sherlock dressed in his warmest clothes. A nice dark gray sweater Ms.Hudson got him, His black trenchcoat, and some gray mittens.
Sherlock loved the winter. It reminded him of when Victor and him would play in the snow, destroying Mycroft with snowballs as he screamed for mercy in annoyance.
He smiled at John as he watched John put of working boots and a olive green north-face jacket, his cream colored jumper showing before he zippered his coat and put on a white hat and mittens, a gift from Ms.Hudson.
They trudged out the front door and Ms.Hudson asked they curiously where they were going.
"On a date, Ms.Hudson!"Sherlock exclaimed like he just got a new case, and that case was the romantic interest of John H. Watson, his dear Watson.
-
"Beautiful night.."John added, kicking
a loose chip on the plowed path in the the empty park, blushing even more as Sherlock grabbed his hand.
"Yes it is."Sherlock said, looking up at the sky as the snow started to fall slowly. He smiled brightly and looked at John
"Look at how beautiful it is.."Sherlock said, looking around him.
"I know.."John said softly, looking at Sherlock's pure excitement. (So smooth, Mr.Watson. Valerie would be in tears.)
Sherlock looked back at him, and joined their lips. John kissed back, adrenaline running through his veins, grabbing Sherlock by the back of his neck.
Sherlock ran his hands down John's short figure, wrapping his arms around his lower back. John pulled away and smiled, digging his head into Sherlock's chest.
"What a wonderful this has been, My Dear Watson."Sherlock murmured, putting his chin of John head, embracing his loving hug.
Sherlock chuckled slightly as John walked into the room carelessly. Rushing up to John, he wrapped his arms around the small man and kissed his temple as he watched John's face draw back and surprise.
Today was the first of October and Sherlock had his whole day scheduled to go bat shit crazy with Halloween decorations.
John sighed as he brew the fake cobwebs off of Sherlock's shoulder.
"Love..What nice..decorations..these are."John said, slightly confused at the small witch hat Sherlock put of his skull. And how their Cairn Terrier name Davey had a lime green collar on with a pumpkin sweater.
"Aren't they, though?"Sherlock asked, adjusting the many fake spiders on the mantle, before presenting his masterpiece with his arms.
"Only in this room, ok?"John asked, "I want to live in piece without finding a fake spider in the shower."
Sherlock pouted, "Whatever makes you happy John."
John brought him into a sweet kiss, and giggled as Davey jumped up, wanting some love too.
-
This last week has been absolute hell for the poor Watson. He has found spiders coiled up in his underwear drawer, cobwebs in the sink, and he caught Davey walking around with a stuffed rat. He chased Davey around for ten minutes while Sherlock giggled on the sofa.
John finally was able to grab at the dog as it weaved in and out of table legs. Grabbing the toy, he let out an exhausted breath as Sherlock broke out in tears from laughing.
John decided he would Chuck the toy at Sherlock and he did, hitting him in the face.
"Its only a joke, John."Sherlock said, still giggling.
John jumped onto the sofa with his and trapped Sherlock in his arms. He nuzzled him and attacked him with love as Davey climbed on the detective's head and Sherlock yelping in surprise.
Handyman - AWOLNATION
I have never been a very brave man. I do things out of impulse, often in a selfish way. I couldn't imagine fighting for someone else until I met John Watson.
Strong posture, big grin, tan lines, and smile lines. His short and stocky body. The absolute opposite of me. Yet, this man is extremely intelligent.
He knows how to carry on a conversation, how to be compassionate and romantic. He knew how to make a man melt in his arms, how to appeal to the majority.
I’m a sinner
I will consider
I am my father’s son
I’m a sinner
I must consider
I've never owned a gun
I’m a sinner
Seasoned beginner
Lucky to be alive
I’m a sinner
Finished my dinner
Now I can go outside
That was before the nightmares came. The screaming and thrashing. I would play my violin at night when my insomnia would be most difficult. I could hear his wails through the floor, the breaking of the lamp sitting on his old wooden nightstand. The squeaking of his mattress springs.
I would set down my violin and bow onto my desk and rush upstairs, creaking the door open slightly to my dear Watson, turned to his side.
He would sob as he tried to control his breathing. I rushed to his side, every night, and sat on the edge of the bed. I rubbed his back and hummed whatever I was playing that night, like soothing a child.
If only yesterday
Took place tomorrow
I'd pray for sleep
And wake you and lift your head
So I can fix your hand
I’ll be your handyman
I knew from personal experience that sometimes not saying anything helped more than asking questions. He calmed down and dozed yet again. His breathing still heavy, but slower than before. He did not have any other freakouts for the rest of the night.
After a week, before settling down in the evening, I decided to ask my dear doctor what was wrong.
"I starting to missing my military life," John replied, "I keep remembering the bloody fields full of dead friends and empty bullet shells."
I nodded, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.
He looks down and smiles, "But soon after, I remember the good. The longs nights of poker in the bunks, meeting all the people at different bases, the banter during lunches. It wasn't just a nightmare, it was a dream, a fantasy."
Soon after I begged Lestrade for more cases. I couldn't care less if it was a four or a ten, anything case that would satisfy my Watson, I took it immediately.
Many nights included chasing masked robbers, exploring abandoned houses, wandering the beautiful streets of London. Yet, the nightmares never stopped.
I wish I had been there for him. I wish I had been at his side during the war. I wish I got to see, to smell, to taste the feeling of war.
If only yesterday (oh)
Took place tomorrow (oh)
I'd pray for sleep (oh)
And wake you and lift your head (oh)
So I can fix your hand
I’ll be your handyman
Each night I soothed these dreams, many of those nights I slept by his side, holding his small body in my arms, feeling the beat of his heart.
It was a beautiful and freezing night. The tired Baker Street boys huddled in their jackets, Sherlock's skin burning from the terrible wind-chill.
The light across the street flickered as Sherlock's eyes scanned. Mycroft was watched, he knew, and he didn't care.
My dear brother, He could hear Mycroft say, sitting in his expensive red velvet chair and crossing his legs, your emotions for Watson are a weakness, a flaw. They do not help you at all.
I do not care, Mycroft, Sherlock grumbled, starring into Mycroft eyes, daring him, Piss off, fatty.
Mycroft huffed, and the memory fluttered away with the wind. Sherlock smiled, Haha, fatty, Mycroft had always been on the chubbier side, while Sherlock was as thin as a rail.
He watched as John looked at his feet as they hit the snow-covered ground, stabling himself on Sherlock as he slipped on an icy part of the sidewalk, not caring to check the ground nor to go around it.
-
John remembers a sobbing Mary, begging for forgiveness soon after he found out about her attempting to murder Sherlock. He would not talk to her for days, weeks even. He would sit taunting her with his presence in the living room before deciding that he was wasting his time. He spent more night at Sherlock, the majority of the time coming home drunk and tired.
Drinking was a new habit of Sherlock's. He enjoyed it from time to time and realized it soon after the stag party. He would have many fancy drinks that he stole from Mycroft's home, or was given to him by Lestrade, who was trying to quit drinking.
They would sit there in the dim lighting, giggling and drinking. John was always a sleepy, happy drunk. So he might as well drink until he was absolutely smitten. Often nights he wouldn't come home to his Mary, sleeping in Sherlock's arms unknowingly until the morning, when he could hear Sherlock knocking around things in the kitchen.
John pushed his cold toes under the soggy snow and kicked it slightly. The slosh splashed Sherlock and John's pantlegs, Sherlock shivered slightly when the coldness touched his leg.
"Sorry.."John said, looking down at his legs, a car sped by as Sherlock hummed in response, his teeth chattering once in a while.
"Here, might as well huddle up for warmth, you popsicle."John aid, before wrapping his arm around Sherlock.
-
Sherlock instantly felt John's warmth, and now was intensely blushing. His face felt warm, which was somewhat nice. Sherlock hummed again.
"You're looking," Sherlock cleared his throat, suddenly becoming brave, "absolutely handsome tonight, John."
John smiled at the compliment, hiding his shock, "I'm wearing a parka and a puffy hat. How do I look even mildly decent?"
"There is beauty in imperfection, in flaw. It makes you more human, John."Sherlock says, daring to look John in the eyes, and let out a breath when he saw John blushing and smiling, hair slightly poking out of his hat.
"You look amazing too, you puffball," John said and Sherlock shook his head in response, his curls shaking side to side.
John grabbed his opposite hand as they turned to block onto their street and Sherlock smiled, leaving a kiss on John's hair.
-
As they clambered inside, John forced himself in front of Sherlock, racing for the lit fireplace. Sherlock groaned as John ran up the stairs, his shoulder bumping against the wall. The small man disappeared over the stair as he heard the large coat be thrown.
"Hurry up!"John said, knowing that Sherlock would be the one to make the hot chocolate.
Sherlock sped up the stairs and walked to the kitchen, setting his coat on the chair. The warmth of the house soon invading his body.
He heard the loud footsteps of his Watson as he walked over, wrapped in a fuzzy white blanket. Sherlock giggled as John waddled in place, trying to warn himself up.
"You look comfy," Sherlock said, looking at John dreamily.
"Yup," John said, pressing against Sherlock side, staring at Sherlock as he poured the milk into John's cup.
"Hey, Sherlock..."John whispered, Sherlock, put the cups of cocoa down before turning to John.
"Yes?-"Sherlock asked, soon to be interrupted by the doctor, who lightly pressed his lips against his.
Sherlock hummed, feeling the smile of John's lips.
"What made you do that?"Sherlock asked quietly, looking down at his feet.
"After tonight, I don't know why I wouldn't," John said as he grabbed the cups, walking into the other room and setting it down on their coffee table.
"What do you mean?"Sherlock muttered, before shaking his head.
"Come on!"John called out, "Before it gets cold!"
"Ok! Ok!"Sherlock explained, before sliding next to his Watson and snuggling into his side. Another case solved, the intentions of John H. Watson.
"I was never insane
Except upon occasions
When my heart was
Touched"
-Edgar A. Poe
-
"Lestrade texted me! We have a case!" John exclaimed, before running out the door, grabbing his coat on the way out.
"Why wouldn't he text me?"Sherlock muttered, before following as fast as he could.
By the time Sherlock got outside, John had already managed to get a cab on his own. He waited patiently as the door of the car and then jumped inside as Sherlock came towards him, leaving the door open for the Consulting Detective.
-
John looked out the window, his leg bouncing in excitement. He needed a good case. Sherlock wasn't the only one who got off on solving crimes. Work has been so dull lately for the poor Watson.
Days on days with snotty nosed kids who were looking to get flu shots for the winter season. Adults who complained about usual mediocre things like the common cold. John was honestly sick and tired of it.
The only hope John had for thrill was these damn cases, which they hadn't had one for weeks. Oddly, Sherlock was content. Days on days of doing destructive experiments in their blood-riddled kitchen. Late nights of playing oddly romantic songs of his violin. Reading books and laying on the couch.
It. Drove. John. Crazy.
The only thing he looked forward to when coming home is watching the human embodiment of a slug wander around their living room. John was in a slump.
He felt as if he and Sherlock had completely switched personalities. John was being snappy and impatient. Meanwhile, Sherlock was polite and kind, content with doing nothing for a few days. Just needing a break.
-
Sherlock yawned slightly as he looked out the window with John. He liked John, more than you should like your roommate that wasn't your romantic partner.
He decided to try out living like John for a week. Sitting around and doing nothing but type on his phone and read books. It was soothing.
Sherlock could see that John was ready to jump out of his skin if they didn't get another case. Days at work getting shittier and shittier.
Sherlock's eyes followed the outline of John's face with was highlighted with the glow of the sun from the outside. That was unusual. England isn't usually very sunny. At least it picked this day to be sunny for a man named John Watson.
Sherlock knew he would have been a lot more miserable if it had been pouring outside. John gets headaches whenever it rains and gets grumpy. But that what he gets for living in the place that is constantly rained on.
All Sherlock thought about now was John. What John liked, what John disliked, what John would do if he was in the situation.
Everything linked back to John. Sherlock felt like he was going insane even since he met John. It was an obsession. John was his little experiment. He loved watching how John reacted to things, how he socialized with other people.
The car pulled up and John's leg seemed to stop bouncing.
"Come on Sherl!"John exclaimed before swiftly getting out of the car, Sherlock smiled at the cabby while he shuffled through his pockets for money to pay.
John had never called Sherlock 'Sherl' a day in his life. Odd.
-
"So, as you can see if you aren't retarded and or blind, the wife did it!"Sherlock exclaimed, eyes shakily looking between John and Lestrade.
"Insurance money, Lestrade!"He stated, rubbing his fingers together to symbolize 'cash'.
"Brilliant, Sherl!"John praised, hugging him and smiling.
The pale skin of Sherlock's cheekbones turned red as John turned to talk to Lestrade and Donovan. Holy shit...
Sherlock's stomach tingled in excitement as John smiled at him. Sherlock gave a thumbs up, giving him an awkward smile back, overwhelmed.
He had no idea why that hug felt so, refreshing. It felt like a warm blanket on a winter night, he didn't want to let go. John's arms were the heating vent to his chilly toes..(That's kind of weird, but I'm keeping it)
Sherlock sighed, attempting to calm his nerves as he started to walk to the car, John walking in a steady pace ahead of him. Sherlock watched as he called a cab as one pulled up immediately.
John smiled at the cabby, "221 Baker Street."
The cabby grunted in response, pulling from the curb and blending into the streets seemingly vacant with cars. Sherlock's eyes gravitated towards the night's sky, stars somehow visible through the pollution of the London air.
"Beautiful night, isn't it?"Sherlock asked his companion, who was also looking out his window.
"Yes..."John said, breathy voice. Sherlock could feel the warmth of his breath on his neck as John leaned to look out the window.
-
John smirked as Sherlock blushing red cheeks, he loved to tease to consulting detective. It was simply too easy. Leaning a little too close, holding his hand while they're shopping, hugging him after a long day working on a case. Every time John saw those Rosey cheekbones, he smiled.
He loved Sherlock, way more than a friend should. He tried and tried dating women, he just discovered that they weren't his thing, and neither was he theirs. Maybe it had to do with ditching them on a date for Sherlock, or Sherlock piercing judgemental gaze when she walked into the apartment
It was always Sherlock...
Then he realized that Sherlock didn't know that he was being teased in the first place. Hand holding lead to hugs, hugs lead to cuddling, and now John was in love...
God, he loved the scent of Sherlock. The lingering smell of cigarettes on his clothing, the expensive cologne that he buys with his brother's money, and the smell of shampoo that he keeps stealing from John.
They were current rewatching doctor who, starting with the 9th doctor. The adorable snarkiness from such an intimidating man reminded him of Sherlock. Everything did.
"Hey, John?"Sherlock asked John could feel the tensity in his arms. He was nervous.
"Yeah Sherl?"John responded, looking up at the Curly haired male.
"What going on with you? You've been acting....differently.."Sherlock asked quietly, the sound of the TV was lowered by his available hand.
"Uh, what to do you mean?"John asked back, slightly skittish..Had he actually noticed?
"You've been more 'Sensitive'...To most things...than usual.."Sherlock scooched a little closer.
"Uh, no reason...Sherl.."John stumbled through his words.
"No one just changes like that, John. There's got to be something. Did I do something?"Sherlock said, worried.
John and Sherlock have never gotten so along with each other until now. They never seriously argued ever since that hug. John was happy, Sherlock was happy. What now?
"Does that justify my actions?"John asked, before pressing his lips against Sherlock's.
He felt Sherlock gasp and felt Sherlock's hand go to his thigh and the other on his side. Sherlock played with the wool of his jumper as John ran his hand through those magnificent curls that laid upon the detective's head.
"I was never insane, except upon occasions when my heart was
touched.."Sherlock quoted, murmuring the words as he kissed John's forehead.
"Stealing my Poe book, Eh?"John asked, smiling.
Sherlock nodded.
John kissed his forehead, giving Sherlock's ass a squeeze and smirking before cuddling into his chest, turning up the volume.
-
Mycroft was absolutely infuriated. He sat in a crowded room as Molly and Lestrade asked Sherlock if he was ok. Lestrade put his hand on Sherlock's shoulder, but no matter what Lestrade said, Sherlock had no idea what it was.
Mycroft knew Sherlock was tripping of the medication they gave him. He had gotten shot in the thigh by a mysterious woman in a black dress.
Sherlock's head hung low as he tried to keep up with Lestrade words, murmuring inaudible responses like 'ok Geoffery' or 'get your hand off me please'.
Lestrade and Molly left the room as Sherlock's nurse walked in. A short man in scrubs with a name tag that read 'John Watson, Head Nurse'.
"Jawn!"Sherlock exclaimed, trying to stick his head up to look at the man.
John smiled, "Hello Sherlock."
"You're so pretty, Jawn."Sherlock murmured, Mycroft chuckled and stood next to the nurse as he watched the man check the multiple screens he was attached to, Sherlock grabbing the Nurse's unused hand in the process.
"Thank you, Sherlock." John chuckled before leaving the room, Sherlock whined as he left.
"I like him, Mikey,"Sherlock said, giggling slightly.
"You are absolutely delirious, brother mine." Mycroft said, "Emotions are a disadvantage."
"Screw that! Jawn is pretty and smart and I like him!"Sherlock exclaimed, his arms thrashing.
"Is everything ok in here?"John said, sticking his head in.
"No, it isn't, Jawn!"Sherlock exclaimed, whining, "Mycroft said I can't love you!"
"I assure you he isn't like this regularly." Mycroft stated before John let out a hushed 'ok' from his laughter and closed the door.
-
"JAWN! You're back!" Sherlock exclaimed, reaching his arms out.
"Just need to check something's out, Sherlock." John said, "It will only be a few moments."
"A few moments is all I have?"Sherlock whined, John giggled again.
John looked at the wound again. They had taken the bullet out of his thigh, but it needed to be covered, and Sherlock was going to be in immense pain while it healed.
Those damn Pain Killers.
John knew Sherlock was delirious, but Sherlock was a good looking man. Skinny as a rail, with somehow some muscle built. He couldn't help but blush when he talked to the pale skinned man.
-
Sherlock was out of the hospital, and Mycroft decided to stay at 221B for a few days.
"YOU DID WHAT?!?"Sherlock exclaimed, his voice booming throughout the cluttered flat.
Mycroft chuckled, "I gave the nurse your number, you were absolutely infatuated with the poor man.."
"What did he even look like?"Sherlock asked, trying to remember at least some of his hospital stay.
"Here."Mycroft handed Sherlock his phone, which showed a man around the same age as him.
Sherlock scanned over the man. He was clearly a military man by the way that he stood. His smile could put someone in a comma, a good coma of course.
"Damn.,"Sherlock muttered, hand subconsciously reaching up to his face.
"Told you..."Mycroft chuckled again as Sherlock clung onto the phone to look at the captivating man once more.
-
"Hi! This is John Watson, your brother gave me your number..."John fiddled with his dress shirt. He decided once he got home he would call Sherlock.
"Yeah...he's an embarrassment to the family.."Sherlock responded, snarling at the mention of his brother.
"I was hoping, maybe, you would to go out for coffee ...tomorrow... maybe..."John breathed out, holding onto the collar of his shirt with a death grip.
"Sure, sure, sure..."Sherlock stuttered on the other end, his face flushed. He laid himself across the couch, giggling and chatting with the nurse.
-
"Yeah...you confessed to me multiple times, actually..."John said with a breathy laugh.
"Please don't sue me. I'm broke..."Sherlock said, worried.
"No, no. It's fine. You were delusional and stuff, so it wasn't really your fault." John laughed, "Your brother wasn't helping your case either!"
"That bloody shithead.."Sherlock grumbled.
Ms.Hudson peered through the door as watched as Sherlock sat up and swung his legs from the chair, soon moving over to the couch and laying across it and crossing his legs over each other.
"Might as well let him be.."Ms.Hudson sighed happily and watched as Sherlock giggled and flushed. Absolutely lovesick, that's what he was.
-Sherlock has a framed picture of John's ass in his mind palace..You know...so he won't forget it..
- I like to say this a lot in my stories but Sherlock has really strong cologne. It's a really cheap brand that he got, knowing that people could tell if he was wearing some expensive cologne. He doesn't want to appear as snobby as his own brother.
- John has never had to buy new clothes, since he hasn't grown since he was 13. Only when he moved out did he buy new clothes, which is why he looks like a dad.
- John knew he was bisexual before he met Sherlock, he just doesn't want to talk about it. He knows it's ok, but he hates being called 'gay' even though he clearly isn't.
- Sherlock fuckin' loves animals. He loves petting dogs that are walking down the street, feeding cats in the alleys, and going to pet stores. He always wanted a pet when he was little.
- John has a weird passion for the snow. He loves the cold and how he can wear as many layers as he wants. It's brings him good business to at work, even though majority of it is nonsense colds.
- Lestrade has a lot of identity issues. He's unsure if he's gay, straight, bisexual, pan, or etc. Ever since he had divorced his wife he's felt he has no right to an opinion, because of how controlling she was.
- Mary knew while her and John were together that Sherlock was madly in love. He wanted to get a rise out of him, tease him a bit. That's why she constantly asked John about Sherlock "Are you going to go see Sherlock?" "How's Sherlock doing?" "We should invite him to dinner sometime!"
- John's not as stupid as they make him in the books (Which is borderline retarded, he is literally dumber than a stack of rocks in the books in my opinion). John's really good at emotions, manipulating them, controlling them, observing them. A lot of times he plays stupid just to make Sherlock feel good, and other times he just needs to interfere.
- Sherlock is John's personal map, since he always gets lost. He always texts him and asks him for directions or to give him an idea of where he is.
- Sherlock has almost stabbed John. Multiple times. Out of anger. John likes to sleep in a lot and also go for hours on his computer without moving that's is aggravating. It kind of childish, since he being a hypocrite and all.
- The balloon thing that John did in the later seasons (where he drew his face on the balloon and Sherlock talked to it for hours without noticing). John done that multiple times. Once he did it with the flag pillow with a knitted scarf on top, and once with a lamp (A lamp?)
- Sherlock likes to break into Mycroft house for no reason. Sometimes he'll hide stuff, sometimes he'll draw on the mirrors, and sometimes he'll just leave a bunch of evidence everywhere, then take nothing.
- Sherlock and John love to go to the bookstore together. John hordes a bunch of coupons and they put a bunch of money in a jar, and then they go on a shopping spree. Sherlock gets a bunch of Non-Fiction books to fill up his mind-palace with, and John gets a bunch of Thrillers and Detective books. He loves Agatha Christie books.
- John will have these days where he won't talk. He doesn't know why. He just get kind of quiet. He rather be in his head than be in the crappy real world. (I do this too. It has to do with PTSD and anxiety, which I also have issues with. The real world sucks.) Sherlock does this too, because he's able to create world's in his head, so it's easy to just be in your head for a long time.
Trigger warning for an anxiety attack. I feel this chapter represents Anxiety really well.
John just wanted to breathe, needed to breathe, but he couldn't...
His eyes watered and his throat tightened, hoping that he could get out his head.
What's wrong with you!? Huh? It's was just a war!
Just a war? Just a war, it says! John hated his head sometimes, it was more of an insensitive prick than he was. People died. His friends died. Every day he felt like he was on his last word, his last breath. He hoped he hadn't wasted his life, that his sister and Mom were going to be ok.
"John! We have a case!"He heard Sherlock exclaimed from outside the door.
"I'll pass Sherlock.."John said back, hoping that the words he said could be heard through the door.
"But, John, I need you..."Sherlock whined, foot tapping against the floor.
John's teeth clenched at the sound, too much noise, too much talking. He could hear the cars outside, the people talking in the streets, he could hear Sherlock breathing.
"You don't need me, I'll...You'll be fine.."John said, pushing our his words, trying not to grab the nearest thing and throw it at the door.
The door creaked open and John threw himself back-first onto the bed, exhausted.
"John?"Sherlock asked, before silencing his words.
Moving over slowly, Sherlock leaned over to the bed and John looked at him through the corner of his eyes.
"No more case.." Sherlock said, assuring the doctor, "I'm here."
"Mhm.."John voice more seemed as a whine and he shook, arm buckling as he tried to sit up for Sherlock. Sherlock caught him and guided him up as slowly as he could.
Sherlock's eyes stared into his as John wheezed, his hands were freezing. So we're his feet. Sherlock shivered at the touch of him.
Sherlock sat on the bed with John and grasped his hand as hard as he could. John attacked him suddenly with a hug, leaving a wet stain on Sherlock's jacket.
"John, listen to me. Just breathe, it's going to be ok. I have you now."Sherlock whispered into the top of his head, kissing it.
John looked up at him, sucking in a breath, "Sherlock?"
Sherlock kisses his cheek and John smiled as bright as he could, still trying to breathe, hiccuping and gasping with each breath. Sherlock decided to lay down with down, noticing how sleepy John got.
-
Daylight broke through John's window and Sherlock blinked and yawned. His arms were wrapped around John protectively, John's cold feet curled up with his, still freezing. Sherlock hissed at the cold.
"Morning, Sherlock.."John muttered, turning his body toward the detective.
"Hi..."Sherlock said, looking into his baby blue eyes.
"Damn.,"John muttered, before kissing him softly. Sherlock complied instantly as he felt John's hand playing with one of his stray curls.
"Thank you.."John muttered against his lips, kissing the corner of his mouth. His face was still red from the tears, body still tense.
Sherlock sighed, "No problem, Love.."
-
A/N
I hate romanticizing something like mental illness, but I attempted to make it different. Sometimes you just want to be held in this lonely world. Luckily John has someone like Sherlock that can help him and knows what to do from experience.
You just feel like you're being sucked in by the world, those thoughts aren't yours and you're in a constant spiral. Life sucks, people suck, everything sucks. It's a bad mindset, but it's what I grew up with. Just 'survive', suck it up and deal with it. I probably have these bad mental issues because of my non-sympathetic parents.
Don't listen to what they say. If you aren't happy, try to make it better. You can always get out of something. Sometimes you may need extra help, but you can do it! The world gets better.
If you didn't know, John is a very social person. He loves partying. Going on dates. Staying up until two a.m at the local bar. So he was ready for this.
He and Greg Lestrade had been friends for years. Meeting up in high school before splitting up in college, since John went into medical school and Lestrade was trying to get a degree to be a detective.
After all those years, he finally met Lestrade again. John was talking to one of the nurses when Greg rushed in with his whole team.
"Where is ro-... John?"Greg asked, eyes lighting up.
"Greg?"John asked, excitement going through his head.
"John! I see you haven't gotten any taller! I need to talk to you after I'm done with questioning a victim, stay put!"Greg exclaimed after the nurse next to him told him where to room was.
"I'm not moving! Slow day today.."John said, before turning his back to the fleeing detective.
-
John and Greg decided to meet up over and over again until they got sick of it, which they didn't. Being almost brothers in high school never seemed to change after the separation for many years.
"You like parties, right?"Lestrade said, adjusting himself in his chair.
"Yeah...Why exactly?"John asked, knowing where the conversation was going, but asking anyway.
"I wanted to bring someone to this party for the Scotland Yard, but I didn't have anyone to bring until I got to meet up with you again. Do you want to go?"Lestrade asked.
"Sure. It's a party! What's the harm in that?"
-
John broke into a nervous sweat when Lestrade called the day before the party.
"You're going to have to wear a suit. it's kind of a fancy party, you could say."Greg informed John.
John only had one suit in his pathetic wardrobe of dad clothes. It wasn't bad, he thought he looked nice in it, but that his opinion. Not the opinion of a bunch of posh government dudes.
It was a light gray suit, which he planned on wearing with a white shirt and black tie. Decent. Ok. He'll be fine...
John gasped as a knock came from 221B's door. Greg stepped in with a navy blue suit and tie, white undershirt similar to John's.
"You rea-...John, you look amazing!"Greg exclaimed, mouth slightly gaping.
"It's the only suit I had..."John muttered.
"You should dress up more often!"Greg said.
They filed out of 221B, saying their goodbyes to Ms.Hudson as they attempted to catch a cab. John nervously fixed his tie, sweat rolling down his neck. It was going to be a long night.
-
John gasped as the streamers and bubbly champagne as he walked in through the door. His neck beginning to ache as he started up at the ceiling and watched how the light reflected off the chandelier.
"Who's your friend, Lestrade?" John heard a voice asks out of the blue, Lestrade held him by the forearm. He didn't want John to wander off.
"His name's John, we recently met up after-"Greg was interrupted as John made eye contact with the tall man.
Damn...They both seemed to think, John reached out to shake the man's hand.
"I'm Sherlock."The man said, his voice vibrating through John's chest.
"Uh, John.."He responded, seeming to forget his name.
Greg laughed, "I just spotted-, nevermind then. I'll be off. Meet me at the door at midnight!"
Greg scampered off towards the dance floor.
"Where's he running to?"John asked, laughing at how ridiculous Greg looked when he ran.
"My brother invited him, they've got this weird thing called a 'crush', on each other.." Sherlock sneered.
"Jealous?"John assumed quickly.
"Heavens No!"Sherlock exclaimed, "I'm just the manager of 'I hate Mycroft, you should too' club."
"Ah," John replied, chuckling at Sherlock facial expression as a man, who seemed to be his brother, who linked arms with Greg.
"Do you want to.." Sherlock stopped to think, "Dance?"
John can't dance, he sucks ass.
"Uh, sure, "John says, nervously looking to the side.
-
Sherlock guided them around on the dancefloor. He was such a good dancer that he somehow made John one too. He began to get dizzy as they spun around the room, John's little body not handling the velocity well.
He leaned against Sherlock's chest, trying to figure out where he was, "Stop spinning so fast, I'm not a rag doll. Holy shit..."
"I'm not spinning that fast..."Muttered Sherlock, slowing down their pace slightly.
Sherlock glared over his shoulder at his brother as he watched them glide around the floor. Sherlock's nerves going haywire as John moved Sherlock's hand to his waist and smiled.
-
"Tonight was a great night Sherlock, I can't wait to see you again!"John said, making eye contact with Sherlock.
"Again?"Sherlock asked, surprised.
"Oh God yes. I haven't had this much fun in a long time."John grasped onto Sherlock's hand.
John felt as if he's known Sherlock his whole life. They had stolen many drinks from the bar, 'accidentally' tripped Mycroft multiple times.
"Let's go out to the balcony..."Sherlock suggested, eyeing the large glass doors that were sealed shut.
"Are we allowed to go out there?"John asked, worried.
"Please, Mycroft owns this place. He can't tell me what I can and cannot do.."Sherlock quipped, snickering as he opened the door for the doctor.
-
Sherlock hummed quietly to a romantic tune that he would play on his violin. Knowing John wouldn't understand the true meaning, he thought it was safe.
"That sounds beautiful..."John muttered, hands grasping the freezing railing.
"Thank you...I wrote the music myself..."Sherlock blushed.
"What do you play?"John asked, moving closer to him.
"The violin. It calms my nerves.."Sherlock responded, looking at John through the corner of his eyes.
The doctor was looking up at him, eyes shining from the moonlight outside. His nose turned red from the cold weather, their feet completely lost in the snow.
John's hand grabbed Sherlock's arm, and he turned his head to look fully at the handsome soldier. Pupils dilated, cheeks flushed, fast pulse. Sherlock smirked at these little reactions.
"Is it ok if-"John began.
"Oh God yes.."Sherlock replied quickly, bending down to meet John's lips.
He felt John hug him as they kissed, arms wrapping around his waist. As they broke apart, John stayed like that, refusing to let go. They giggled.
"What an amazing night it is, John Watson. What an amazing night indeed.."He said, before kissing John again, a bright smile spreading all over his face.
John was extremely lonely for the captain of the Rugby team. His teammates looked up to him, and he appreciates that, but people weren't really his thing.
He was taught ever since he was young that people weren't worth his time because all they'll do is break you. This is the life lesson he gets from an alcoholic father.
Countless nights of his father sobbing on the kitchen counter, blubbering about how lonely he is. John would listen and nod his head, taking pity on his poor father. His mother left along with his older sister Harry when he was five.
He still is in contact with his sister, calling her on the bus in the morning. John didn't want his father to know, so he tried to hide the best he could, and succeeded.
John thought of the burn mark on his father's hand from a broken heart.
"We were soulmates!"His father wailed, "Why did she leave us!"
John looked down at his feet as he walked, thinking of the memories. The nights. John was on his own, he could barely call his father a parent anymore.
-
Sherlock never understood the science of soulmates. He wanted to experiment, but he didn't have one yet.
Molly smiled as Sherlock squinted as and played with her new soulmate ring. It was a bright gold as if it was newly polished.
"And what was his name?"Sherlock asked in his posh British voice.
"Jim. He's a nice boy, actually."Molly replied. (Please don't kill me)
"I know. You've said that every time I've asked."Sherlock said, tugging on the ring.
"Quit it! That's hurts!"Molly yelped, pulling away her hand, "It doesn't come off, Sherlock!!"
"Interesting..."Sherlock muttered, taking notes.
He snatched back her hand and she rolled her eyes.
"Can you adjust it?"Sherlock asked, poking the ring with his mechanical pencil.
"Yeah, it can move around the finger, just can't adjust towards the knuckle or the fingernail."Molly answered, gazing as Sherlock's neatly written notes, "Do you ever think you'll meet your soulmate, Sherl?"
"That's a tough question to answer. Probably, though."Sherlock replied, chewing on his eraser.
"Don't lose hope! You'll find him somewhere!"Molly exclaimed, eating her sandwich.
"Why do you say 'him'?"Sherlock questioned.
"Sorry, Sherlock, but you're the gayest man I've ever met," Molly answered, chuckling.
"Yes I know, I like to show it."Sherlock chuckled in unison.
"What are you doing now?"Greg grumbled, tossing his lunch tray on to the table. Sherlock shielded his notebook from the splatter of food.
"Simply writing down observations on Molly's soulmate ring."Sherlock answered, "Awful shiny, isn't it?"
Greg gazed at his silver and black band, smiling.
"Why him?Why my brother?"Sherlock grumbled, snarling at the thought.
"Suck it up, Sherl."Greg teased, poking at Sherlock notebook with his fork.
-
Everyone was meeting their soulmates in high school. Except for John. He was infuriated. Maybe because he was extremely horny, or that he was touch starved. Or it could be both.
He just wanted someone, anyone!
"Take me!" His mind screamed, "Anyone! Take me away!"
The odd thing is that he didn't like people, he's not supposed to like people. It's all a lost cause. All that struggle and in the end you'll get screwed over. They'll leave you in the dust and take everything you own.
John furiously solved his math problem. Just another thing he used to distract himself from everything. The math just seemed to flow out of his head onto the page. All he needed was a pencil.
A pencil was John's weapon. He could write words upon words about anything and it could still be good. It helped him enjoy life a little more. Life wasn't as useless when he wrote.
That was until he met him, the brooding boy with the curly brown hair. His skin was as white as a marshmallow and looked as soft as one too.
John's hand seemed to hurt a little, and he dropped his pencil. He had finished the problem and decided to pretend to stare at the front of the room.
He watched the boy from the corner of his eye.
"This is William, he is-"
"Sherlock, not William, Mrs.Daily.."
"Sherlock...he is now joining our class."She continued impatience in her tone of voice.
"Damn Sherlock," John thought.
John knew he wasn't straight, but he wasn't gay. He liked girls, he definitely knew that. But he also knew that he didn't mind a couple dudes once in a while.
John panicked when Sherlock turned around and looked at him. John blushed when he met eyes with the boy. Sherlock seemed to glow, and John squinted at him. He winced and grabbed at his hand, seeming to go limp and start to burn.
"Holy shit.,"John muttered.
On his ring a band of silver and gold with a brain imprinted on it appeared, seeming to melt with his skin.
He listened to Sherlock's intense breathing as he also looked at his hand. It was identical except for a heart was imprinted instead of a brain.
John's hand shot up in a panic.
"Yes, John?"The teacher asked, startled by the look on his face. His stomach turned.
"May I got use the bathroom?"John asked, she nodded and he speed walked towards the wooden pass.
-
John freaked himself out when he was half-way down the hall and he heard footsteps behind him.
"Wait! Wait!"Sherlock exclaimed as John hurtled himself against the bathroom door, it pushed open and slammed as Sherlock approached the door. He heard the lock.
"Sorry, nervous stomach."John yelped, heading toward the stall, heaving slightly as he spoke.
"Holy shit.."He heard Sherlock reply, "You exist.."
"Yes..yes..yes..yes, I dooooo..."John moaned and stuttered as he threw up, the color in his face has disappeared completely.
He heard a click of the door as it swung open and hit the wall.
"Do you need any help...Uh"
"John..My name is John!"He heaved, "Jesus Christ."
He leaned his body against the toilet and fidgeted with the knob before flushing.
"Are you ok?"Sherlock asked, "I'm sorry..."
"It's fine, It's fine. I'm fine."John answered, panting, "I always react to stuff like this. I've always been like this."
"I'm sorry.."He saw Sherlock's feet move towards the door as he spoke, John pulled himself to his feet.
John remembers how many times he threw up before big games, before homecoming, before any significant testing. It was a bad habit. He overworked himself constantly. This was probably the worst out of all of them.
Unlocking the stall, he fully looked at Sherlock for the first time. He saw that Sherlock's face was wet with tears, his eyes red.
"I'm not usually like this, I swear.."They both said, not in unison because that's freaky...
John chuckled, Sherlock joining in after a few seconds.
"This is wild!"John exclaimed, his sickness seemed to fade into overwhelming joy.
They leaned against each other. It felt like they've known each other for years.
-
"WHAT THE FUCK!"Greg exclaimed, looking at the ring that Sherlock was showing off flamboyantly.
"Was it a guy? Was I right?"Molly asked, smile shimmering with her bright red lipstick.
"Yup. John Watson, to be exact."Sherlock grinned ear to ear.
"Wait...Watson? Really? You're polar opposites.."Greg exclaimed.
"He doesn't talk much, though," Molly added.
"And Sherlock can't keep his damn mouth shut!"Greg laughed at his own joke, Molly chuckled while Sherlock glared.
"Yes, I know. I have a bad case of motor-mouth."Sherlock sneered.
Sherlock was just as surprised about John as Greg was. John was a popular kid. Everyone liked him because he was a pretty boy. But, he doesn't talk much and he looks down at his feet a lot.
"How did you meet him?"Molly asked Sherlock winced.
"He made eye contact with me in Math, threw up in a bathroom stall, and then I consoled him after. It's was decent."Sherlock explained.
"That's rough..."Greg chuckled, "I bet you can't wait to tell that to the grandkids!"
They all chuckled at that.
-
Sherlock watched John fidget with his jumper. John was having difficulty opening his locker again, it was the fourth time this week.
They haven't talked that much, which bugged Sherlock a little. John was a little shy for someone so well known throughout the school.
"Hey, John.." Sherlock began, John jumped and smiled as he made eye contact with Sherlock.
His mind flashed back to how beautiful John looked with his glow. It reminded him of sunrises on a smooth Beach on your honeymoon.
"Oh, hi Sherlock! What's going on?"John asked.
"I just wanted to know if..you...wanted to...you know...hang out...after school.."Sherlock asked, stumbling between words and looking at John's locker with an odd fascination.
"Uh, sure. But I have practice...Uh..."John began, "Meet me after practice! We can go to my house. My dad is never home on weekdays."
Sherlock blushed, celebrating internally, "Yes...Yes..Ok...See you after school then..."
"Ok!"John replied.
-
"Holy shit...I did it.."Sherlock l said in a surprised voice, he had been in shock all day.
"Sherlock's got a crush!!"Greg teased.
"Shut up Geoff! You're fucking my brother, I have blackmail!"Sherlock exclaimed, Greg blushed.
Molly giggled, "Well, John is his soulmate and all... What are you guys doing, then?"
"Going to his house after he's done with practice..."
"Ooooh!"Greg teased again, and Sherlock decided he hated his brother a little more than usual. Guilty by association.
"I don't know what to do..."
"Take it slow, Sherl!"Molly advised, "John might as well be a ticking time bomb! And so are you!"
Greg began to chant, "Fuck!"
"Greg!"Molly exclaimed, giggling.
"No, Greg!"Sherlock exclaimed, blushing, "Have you seen that boy!"
"Yes, I have."Greg answered, "Why?"
"All I have to say is, DAMN WATSON!"Sherlock exclaimed loudly
"Sherlock...sometimes I question you.." Molly shook her head, giggling.
-
Sherlock fiddled with the edge of his shirt. He wished he wasn't so shy around John. He could chat for hours about nothing with poor Molly. He could barely stifle out one word to John without being a hot mess. A hot gay mess.
Sherlock watched cluelessly as John sprinted across the field, and tackled the person who had the ball. He was like a bulldozer. A very short and stocky bulldozer.
Sherlock turned on his small iPhone and played music while waiting.
"Something romantic...To make myself feel better..."Sherlock thought as he browsed through his options.
You Send Me - Sam Cooke
Darling, You send me...
I know you send me
Darling, You send me...
Honest you do, Honest you do
Honest you do
You thrill me
I know you, you, you, you thrill me
Darling, you thrill me
Honest you do
At first, I thought it was infatuation
But woah, it's lasted so long
Now I find myself wanting
To marry you, and take you home...
Sherlock hummed as he watched John. He barely knew the boy and he was already crazy. It was wonderful. Helping him the bathroom, washing him up, giggling with him when the Math teacher started pounding on the door.
Now he could see John's confidence. Whooping and hollering as he scored his team, again. The freshman seemed exhausted, the sweat gleaming across their faces. Sherlock knew John could play for hours and not be exhausted. He was in love with the game.
-
"Ooooh, John! Is this your soulmate, mate!?"John's Junior Captain, Mathew, teased and poked at his shoulder, "A very handsome lad, indeed."
"Shut up Mat. Leave him be.."John scolded him as they both walked up the bleachers.
"Bullshit. He can't even hear me. You guys fuck yet?"Mathew asked.
"Enough questions from you, I'll push you over the railing.."John stated blankly.
"Ooo yes! Give me death!"Mathew exclaimed loudly.
John loved Mathew like a little brother, but sometimes he was too much. He was a great player for the team, just got carried away. He also had no personal space. Because right now he was literally jumping on and hugging John.
"Gosh, you were so lonely!"Mathew gasped dramatically, "Now you've got tall, dark, and boney to relieve all...that..."
Mathew gestured vaguely and John shoved him harshly with his shoulder.
"I'm not..that bad.."John said, wincing, "Am I?"
"You're an absolute wreck John, I'm surprised you haven't started hu-"
"Don't finish that..."
"But!-"
"No."
"Bullshit!"Mathew exclaimed, Sherlock almost falling off the bleachers.
"Sorry, Sherlock...He's very eccentric...and FUCKING LOUD!"John yelled in Mathew's direction, but he had already taken off running to the other side of the bleachers.
"Interesting..."Sherlock observed, "Like a toddler.."
"Yup."
Sherlock gathered up his bag and ripped out his earphones. He shoved his phone in his backpack, turning it on vibrate in case of Greg. Greg.
"Let's go. My house is right through the field. Rather convenient, isn't it?"John said, waiting for Sherlock to make his way down the bleachers.
-
"Nice..House."Sherlock muttered as they walking into the living room, Sherlock slipped off his leather shoes at the door as did John.
"Want to go upstairs? I've got a little TV and a record player we could use!"John asked, Sherlock, nodded and followed up the stairs.
Sherlock took in the room little by little. Newspaper articles about him and the team hung against one of the walls along with a large note board. Things like quotes and homework were written on the neon green sticky notes. The items on his desk were neatly packed into one corner. An old Dell laptop rested on the edge, along with a book-cluttered with sticky notes and extra pages.
His TV was small, as he said. It was made in the early 2000s and shocked up if you touched the screen. His record player was a beautiful vintage looking Victrola. The Records were neatly in line in a cardboard box.
John shuffled through the box, "I love this song..."
He admired a small record, 35, which had the title "Oh, What a Night" on it, by The Dells. Sherlock beamed. He liked the same music he did.
"Yes, play it. I love it."Sherlock exclaimed excitedly.
Oh what a night, to love you, dear
Oh what a night, to hold you near
Oh what a night, to squeeze you, dear
That's why I love you so!
"Care to dance?"John asked, holding out a hand to Sherlock who sat on his bed.
"Oh God yes..."Sherlock replied, grabbing his hand and spinning slowly around the room, swaying.
Oh what a night, to love you, dear
Oh what a night, to walk you, dear
Oh what a night, to kiss you, dear
That's why I love you so!
I won't forget all those things
You have told to me
The craze in my heart
Won't let me forget your love
They both sung along softly, Sherlock's hands bravely grasped onto John's hips. John's hands were wrapped around his neck.
Sherlock blushed as John looked as his in the eyes. John's pupils were made of all different types of blue. It was hypnotizing. Sherlock's eyes were like marbles. The ones you play games with that change color when you turn them in your hand. A mix of blue, green, and gray.
Oh what a night, to love you, dear
Oh what a night, to hold you near
Oh what a night, to squeeze you, dear
That's why I love you so!
Oh what a night, to love you, dear
Oh what a night, to want you, dear
Oh what a night, to kiss you, dear
That's why I love you so!
The music finished, and they stopped spinning and swaying.
"This has escalated awful quick...which might be a good thing..." John thought.
"I thought I'd never find you, but here you are. Dancing with me. In my bedroom..."John murmured.
"John, can I-"
"Oh God yes.."John replied quickly, they both giggled before Sherlock pressed their lips together.
John moved against him, running his thumb across his cheekbones. Sherlock's large, thin hands ran through John's short hair. He shivered slightly as the coldness of them touched his scalp.
"That was wonderful, Sherl.."John muttered, "I have to have you over more often..."
John sat down on the bed and pulled Sherlock down giggling, and they kissed again, and again until their lungs ran of breath.
John was having a terrible week, to say the least. Nothing seemed to be good. One of his dates ditched him while he was in the bathroom and he hurt his leg trying to take down decorations at the office. Honestly, he was done.
In the middle of silence and a total breakdown, John sat on his recliner. He decided to turn his chair slightly so he could curl into a ball and watch the colors on the TV. He didn't want to talk, he didn't want to do anything. He didn't even want to think. Just sit and relax.
Sherlock had also been in the room, sprawled out on their couch. His hands were pressed together in a prayer as he wandered through his mind palace.
-
Today was boring, horrid. John hasn't done anything all day but pout in his chair. He is still in his white T-shirt and plaid pants from when he went to bed last night.
I wandered through my mind palace, visiting the best rooms I've ever made. Like little memories that I had from college. I enjoyed staying up late and experimenting with whatever I could find. Giggling as I would harass my roommate whenever I could.
"Piss off Sherlock!"My roommate groaned, his name was...Michael.
I snorted at him as he rolled to the side. He was a decent person. Tolerated me the best he could. Majority of the time he was either high off his ass or tired. I got used to it majority of the time.
My John room, oh my John room. I loved it. Navy blue and gold wallpapers align the walls neatly, except for a corner that was peeling off slowly. I peaked under the peeling wallpaper and the crimson red wall I had hidden for years showed. I forgot. My mind palace reminds me of my secret. I flatten it back and try to hide it, though no one can see.
There were little pictures of John hanging on the walls. One with his mustache which I shriveled my nose too. What made him do THAT? Luckily, the day after he shaved it off, I remember his ex-wife Mary teasing him. I couldn't join in, because I already irritated him enough for one day.
There was another picture which I loved the most. John Watson with his hair gelled back, and a nice gray suit and black tie. I remember shopping with him for a suit when we got invited to a party by one of our clients. John had never owned his own suit, besides the one he had in high school. He tried it on while we giggled. The pant leg ripped. He fell on the floor in a fit of laughter. It was wonderful
I heard the wallpaper rip and I sucked in a breath. The crimson red seemed to bleed through the wallpaper, taunting me like a child.
"Leave me alone, I know..."I groaned, fixing the wallpaper again. It folded over the corner as to show it was still there. I flattened it. It folded back.
Walking away from the wall, I sat in John's chair. I searched through the titles of many books with blank pages. Though I was clearly smitten for John, I would never take the time to memorize all of the books. Only the one he loved.
He has this one book that sits by his nightstand. Agatha Christie. He loves her 'Hercule Poirot' short mysteries. I had gotten him a whole collection for Christmas after he started talking about her books. He hugged me tightly, thanking me furiously. He said he could never afford to get the books, as some of them were too expensive, and he had to get them from the library.
I watched the projection on the wall from the memory. Feeling my heart rate rise as he embraced me. Remembering the musky scent of his cheap cologne. Even though it was cheap, it smelt nice because it was his. Everything I associated him was 'nice'. It was too good to be true. I made him in my mind into this perfect doll for my mind to toy with, to fantasize with.
I would never tell him this, of course. He insists that he is not gay constantly. I wouldn't dare ruin something so beautiful as my relationship with John Watson. I can't watch something I worked so hard on, something I pushed myself to improve, crumble to pieces after the words, "I love you.".
I gasped for air as I was startled out of my trance. I heard a soft sobbing noise come from the other side of the room. I watched a part of John's arms bounce up and down as he sobbed. Almost bumping into the table, I rushed over to the Doctor in panic.
"What's wrong?"I asked, turning off the TV with my elbow as I sat on my feet.
"Nothing, Sherlock...."John said into his knees.
"Now I know that's not true. I don't need to deduce to tell me that."I joked, John laughed slightly, he shoulder shaking a little more, "Couch?"
John nodded, and I carried him over to the couch. For such a strong man, he was so light and small. He was like a piece of pottery in my hands.
I set him down on the couch, and let him an into my chest as I wrapped one arm around him. John sobbed into my chest. Tear stains began to appear on my shirt and I ran my hand through his hair, trying to coax him out of his sadness. I heard John sigh, and his heartbeat began to slow, his breath began to become calm as he dozed off. He was exhausted. I let him sleep there as I grabbed for his phone and called in sick for him tomorrow. He needs some rest.
-
"Sherlock?"John gasped, looking up furiously soon the realized that the comfy pillow he was resting was not a pillow, but Sherlock. He snored like a monster, which was probably why John woke up.
He chuckled at this and squeezed himself out of Sherlock's grasp to head for the kitchen to make tea. John liked in bland, and Sherlock liked it with a bit of honey. John proceeded to put the money in, and squirt some into his mouth sneakily.
He set the tea set on the coffee table and drank. His throat was sore and his eyes stung. He felt fine besides that. All he needed to do was cry a little, let those feelings out. But he felt tired. His muscles ached a little, but he felt empty.
"John?"Sherlock rolled over to his other side, now facing away from the couch.
"Yes, Sherlock?"John asked in a soft voice.
"Can we go for a walk today? I want to get out of the house..."Sherlock whined.
"Sure Sherlock...I made tea if you want any..."John replied.
"Yes...Uh...Thank you...John.."Sherlock sat up, still a little confused and squinty from waking up. John chuckled at Sherlock's messy hair.
"Honey..."Sherlock groaned, taking in the taste of the tea.
"Yes, I didn't forget it..."John said.
"This is amazing John, thank you..."Sherlock said, smiling.
"You're welcome, Sherlock."John gushed at the look of pleasure on Sherlock's face.
-
I wished I could wake up like this every morning. John next to me and a good cup of tea. A warm house and a comfy couch or bed. John's hair stuck up slightly in odd places, which he had not bothered to gel the day before like I loved. I could feel the warmth radiating off of him, even though we aren't touching. This was absolute bliss.
John got up to get in the shower, and I decided to store this memory in my mind palace. I put a gold frame around it, unlike the others that were an odd bronzey-goldish color. I felt a tap on my shoulder and my mind palace disappeared. It replaces was John looking down at me with his gelled hair and a smile. He wore a blue and green flannel with his brown overcoat. I smiled at him and went into the shower.
We decided to walk down the supermarket. John speed walked ahead of me, picking our usual things from the aisle as I held the basket. I loomed behind him like a shadow. We were happy in our silence. It felt like I was wrapped in a warm felt blanket.
I got a few weird looks from mother's with their little kids, like usual. I am an oddly tall man, who is in the least bit fat. John sometimes compares me to an over-exaggerated cartoon character. John, on the other hand, looked like a normal man. Well, his is a bit short for his age, but he blends in with the crowd.
As we waited in line, John began to tap his foot in impatience. My eyes scanned through the isles of cash registers. One the teenagers who worked as a clerk obviously stole some money, but not enough to make it significant. They were poor and needed some extra money to feed their...brother....sister...and mum.
A heard a few hushed whispers behind me, one belonging to a younger girl, around thirteen, and another belonging to an older man.
"Isn't that the one detective bloke in the newspapers?"The man said, not aware of how bad of a whisperer he was.
"Yeah, I think. Leave him alone, Dad."The girl whispered back, quieter than he had been.
"Maybe you should-"Her dad begun.
"Nope! I'm not doing anything! I just want to go back to the flat and read."She whispered harshly.
I chuckled at this, and John turned to look at me. I glanced to the mirror that the clerks used to check the stores for robbery. The young girl was short and stocky, her father the same. Her glasses have obvious smudges on it, which was bugging her. Her eyes glanced frantically, as it seemed was a habit of hers.
Their family lived off regular income, based on her shoes that were obviously made to wear for a long time and cost a good amount of money. Her hands had large spots of different colored paint. They were re-doing their flat, and they were waiting for the paint to dry, hence the 'go back to flat and read'.
John nudged my shoulder and I moved forward with him, following him like a duckling.
"There he goes. You lost your chance..."The older man says to his daughter, and she reacts bashfully, swatting at his arm.
"After we bring the groceries home, Can we go for a walk at the park? The snow is beautiful.."John asks I nodded, not wanting to speak at the moment.
-
I carried the majority of the groceries home, and John carried the smallest bag which was full of medicine bottles. I wanted to give John a break, and they weren't heavy groceries. The sun was setting and the only sounds were the splashing of snowy slush on the sidewalks. John's neck was wrapped in a flannel red and green scarf. I wore my usual black overcoat with my blue scarf. He wore a brown jacket with white lining on the arms and shoulders. His boots made a loud noise when he walked and the ends of his jeans were soaked.
The park was quiet, except for the occasional gust of wind that made John shiver.
"John, have you been ok? What was going on yesterday?"I finally decided to ask, I could see my breath as I spoke.
"Just a bad week, Sherlock."John sighed, "Since when have you taken interest in another person? You've been...patient...with me all day.."
"Since I met you.."I muttered, shy. I moved away from John slightly and I heard him let out a sigh.
"Oh, Sherlock..."He looked down at his feet.
I felt his hand slide into mine, and a sudden heat flushed my face. I smiled and looked down at our hands. I felt John's chapped lips press against my cheek, and my blush increased. I smiled so much it hurt. Then he pushed me into the snow.
I gasped as I felt the cold snow press against my neck through the scarf and John giggled. I hooked my foot under his ankle, sat up and dragged him down with me with my hand. He yelped, before landing face first into the snow. I winced.
"You bastard!"He shouted, laughing. He threw a clump of snow at my chest before managing to turn around to lay in the snow next to me.
I giggled and crossed my arms in front of my chest as if I was hugging myself from happiness. John grabbed my gloved hand from my chest and dragged it down to meet his waist with his hand. He stuck out his tongue to catch the small snowflakes that fell on his face.
I moved closer to his side and sighed. The cold could never get to me with someone as warm as John Watson in my life.