Consider love - A Johnlock

15. Butterflies

When John arrived in his apartment he immediately began packing his most important stuff. He found an old wheeled luggage under his bed and ducked to get it. He opened it, coughing as the dust flew into his face. He found clothes from Mary inside the trolley. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in and out and slowly took the summer scarf and shirt in his hands. He froze for a moment and he then shook his head as he clenched his teeth, and threw it away in the corner of the room with a slight growl. She isn't worth his tears. He then stood up and laid the open trolley onto the bed and started putting clothes in it. He packed all the things he'd need and all the chargers and technology he will need for the upcoming days. Of course John had to return for the rest of his stuff. But for now, this was enough.

After John finished and walked to the door, he turned around and glanced at the place with a smile. Glad to be away from this horrible place. When John was emerging the hallway, walking through the front door which was made from glass, the wind ruffled his golden blond-grey hair, and he pulled his jacket tighter around his frame. It's dark already. He looked up, fixing his gaze on a lonely star hanging at the night sky. John felt bad for the star, knowing how it felt to be alone. He then jerked his head to the direction of an upcoming cab and immediately swung his hand in the air, rushing to the kerb. John sighed in relief with a smile as the cab stopped. The black-haired man's eyes scanned John and stepped out of the cab and opened the trunk.

"Good evening sir," He said, walking over to John to grab John's luggage.

"Evening." He replied politely. John stepped inside the cab as the cabbie closed the trunk.

"Address?" He asked friendly, clicking the car belt closed.

"Two hundred and twenty-one Baker Street." John said friendly with a pleasant smile plastered on his face. He could get used to this. Naming this address. A couple minutes later the cab pulled up at the address. His home. John thanked the man as he threw money and he then jumped out of the cab. Sighing contently, licking his bottom lip, and grabbed his luggage out of the trunk without asking the cabbie for permission. He kept sitting in his seat, so this probably meant that he allowed it.

John rang first and as nobody answered he then knocked a couple times. He pursed his lips as he looked around the empty street. Just when he wanted to tug his phone out of his pocket, the door opened and Ms. Hudson peered outside. She looked tired but managed to put a bright smile on her lips as she saw John standing in front of her.

"Hello, dear. Come inside." She insisted, opening the door more so John was able to walk inside.

"Good evening, Ms. Hudson." He replied, squeezing her shoulder as he passed her. John waddled upstairs with his luggage and bags. He put it down as he reached the top and walked inside the flat, immediately his eyes were searching for the familiar figure, to greet him. The corner of his lips perked up as he saw Sherlock lying on the sofa, his hands steepled under his nose as if praying. Sherlock informed John this morning, if he was doing this. That he was visiting his mind palace. And that he doesn't hear his surroundings. John tested if Sherlock could hear him by saying his name, but like Sherlock said. He didn't hear a single thing.

John walked over to the fridge, frowning at the sight of a heart laying inside the fridge. He stared at it for a moment, wanting to be sure that he's seeing it right. He then cleared his throat and grabbed the apple juice and poured it into a glass. He drank it while he made his way over to the door, but stopped as his eyes flickered to a note lying on the table, with a silver key laying on the corner of it. John strolled over to it and read it in his head.

Welcome home John.

Ms. Hudson took care of your house key and your room. You should be able to walk inside without stumbling over my science material. I hope so, I didn't check.

I'll be absent for the rest of the night. Need to be in my mind palace for important matters.

See you in the morning, goodnight.

- Sherlock

John face brighten up, and turned his head to glance at his flatmate. Sherlock was lying perched on the sofa, wearing a navy dressing gown, his dark curls sticking out in all the directions. John wanted to walk upstairs but he then shivered. The flat was quite cold, and seeing Sherlock lying without something to take care of the cold, made John switch to his doctor modus.

He silently walked to the wardrobe from that morning and grabbed a woollen white blanket and wandered to Sherlock. He carefully laid the blanket over Sherlock and when he tugged the blanket over Sherlock's shoulders, John couldn't help but stare at the man whose face was only inches away. Sherlock lips were slightly parted and John could hear his breathing, and his eyes then flickered to Sherlock's chest, watching his chest rise and fall. John bite his lip. He really needed to visit the hospital and ask a surgeon to cut open his stomach so the butterflies would leave. He didn't want to ruin this friendship. He's sick of the beating of his heart against his chest, the warmth of his face as he blushed. He accepted the truth. He is in love with his flatmate, teacher, and friend. John wanted to run his fingers through Sherlock's wild dark curls, touch those cuppid bow lips. He felt a faint blush warm his cheeks at the thoughts. But then, John came back to his senses.

"For god's sake, John." He mumbled to himself, shaking his head furiously and stepped backwards. He ran a hand through his sweaty hair and sighed. This is insane he thought. He's been straight for his whole life. Why this man in front of him, can change this. John didn't know what to do anymore, he sneaked a last glance at Sherlock, not knowing that a smile appeared on his face. He then walked away, took his luggage in his hands and started to make his way to his new room.

When he entered, the smell of cleaning products were fiercely present inside. He should thank Mrs. Hudson tomorrow for cleaning the room so quickly. John started to unpack his things, but then he grunted and flopped down onto the bed.

"Why John. Why." He muttered and wrapped him into the blankets, hoping he won't have a nightmare this night. He was glad he didn't have one last night. John started to think about Sherlock and he then drifted asleep.

Three hours later Sherlock got out of his mind palace and opened his eyes. There was something different, but he didn't know what it was. As he turned his body, his eyes were fixed on a woollen blanket. He didn't remember wrapping himself in a blanket. Sherlock frowned and then his face softened at the thoughts that John did this. He blushed slightly and closed his eyes with a smile. Seemed like he was going to sleep on the sofa again. Reason? John tucked him in.

Xxx