To Love You More (Johnlock)

The Great Debate

When your best friend is getting married, it's customary for everyone to shower that person with best wishes for the future. At least, that's what social tradition dictates.

Then again, when does Sherlock Holmes do anything that is remotely socially acceptable?

After the announcement that Mary accepted John's proposal, the couple had been nearly swallowed with congratulatory cards, calls, and text messages. Frankly it was getting annoying. How was he supposed to think on a case when John was sitting on the other side of the room, constantly replying to every ding that came through on his mobile? And if THAT wasn't bad enough, after every so many texts that John received, Mary would call to ask him about inviting so-and-so to the wedding. John seemed to happily agree with every request that Mary made.

Still laying on the couch with his fingers famously steepled under his chin, he slightly opened an eye to glance at John, who was once again thoroughly engrossed in another text message. God, when did John become so ordinary?

Sherlock shook that thought out of his head, chastising himself because he knew better. John was anything but ordinary. John was strong, courageous, with a high moral ground that he seemed to use to keep Sherlock in check when he deemed it necessary. He never thought twice about following Sherlock wherever he needed him to go, day or night. Although now that he was to be married, and no doubt start a family, Sherlock sensed that his time with John will become more restricted.

And that single thought is what has Sherlock sulking on the couch.

It's not that he doesn't want John to be happy. He deserved it more than anyone else that Sherlock knew. But wasn't he happy with the way things were? Aloof flatmate that he was, he knew John had become accustomed to (and rather liked) taking care of him: cooking, shopping, cleaning the flat. Sherlock appreciated that more than he could convey to John, so he never tried. He just assumed that John knew. And in return, he kept John busy with cases that would satisfy his need to feel his adrenaline pumping. It was a perfect symbiotic relationship, feeding off each other to get what each needed. So what was the problem?

The more he thought about it, the more his brow furrowed in confusion. Sherlock had given him everything Mary was offering and even a few things she most likely wouldn't. (He couldn't picture her leading him on a merry chase down the alleys of London after some criminal. Heaven forbid she break a nail, or some other such nonsense.) After weeks of pondering the situation, he kept coming to the same conclusion: the only difference between himself and Mary was Love.

Ok, even that was a stretch, if Sherlock chose to be honest with himself. He knew he loved John. He'd know there was something special about him that night they walked home after John had shot that cabbie to save his life. Ever since that night, John had kept finding ways to impress Sherlock (which wasn't easy to do) and before he realized what had happened, he had fallen madly in love with his ex-soldier. He had never come right out and admit it to him, however. It seemed pointless at first. He had felt that they had endless time together and that John would figure it out eventually.

Sherlock Holmes hates it when he's wrong.

Now he has a new dilemma: does he confess all and hope for the best, or does he plaster on that fake smile he mastered ages ago and let John slowly work himself out of his life? Although John has tried several times to reassure him that his marriage will in no way affect their work together, Sherlock knew that the balance of probability was not in his favor. Still, even the remote possibility of no longer seeing John on a daily basis sent his otherwise meticulous mind into an irrational state of panic. He finally made his mind up.

He would tell John everything. Now he just had to work out the best way of going about it.

He wanted to ask advice from Molly or Lestrade but he instinctually knew that they either wouldn't believe him or they would try to talk him out of it for John's sake. But what they failed to realize is that Sherlock knew John so much better than they did. He'd memorized the different angles that his sandy blonde hair stood in when he woke up in the morning and pattered downstairs for his coffee or tea. He knew that every time it stormed in London, John would sit in his chair with the paper and subconsciously rub the shoulder he had been shot in the entire time. He knew his favorite songs, movies, and shows on the telly. He knew that John absolutely (irrationally) hated his food touching each other on his plate. But those were the things that anyone could learn about John when living with him.

However, he also knew the different sighs that John made in his sleep, and was able to tell if the dream he was having was pleasant or not based on those little sounds that made Sherlock's toes curl. He can instantly recognize the signs of John's arousal by the pinkest flush that dusts his face whenever he sees someone he finds attractive. And on more than one occasion Sherlock had noticed that it wasn't just women that put him in that state of mind. This was a big relief with Sherlock discovered out that little tidbit. What he was planning to do was going to be awkward enough. At least he wasn't flying completely blind.

He decided that if he was going to do this, it would have to completely shock John (and possibly humiliate Mary, but hey that was just a bonus.) Sherlock had learned over the years that when someone is faced with a shocking revelation, the first few seconds of their reaction is the true display of their true self. Heaven knows that he can deduce what he needed to know from John in those seconds. Hell, he'd been studying him for over a year now. Just one second would be all Sherlock needed.

His musings were interrupted yet again by John's mobile going off. This time he actually turned his head to look at John.

"I'm sorry if my waiting for a case seems to be disturbing your now blossoming social life, John.", he lazily drawled.

John looked up startled. "I'm sorry. What?"

Sherlock huffed and swung himself up into a seated position. "If you have business that needs attending, please feel free to leave the flat and tend to it. Every time I ensconce myself in my Mind Palace, the damn thing goes off and it's like a constant doorbell. You know what I did to the last doorbell that irritated me. Unless you want your mobile to suffer the same fate, I highly suggest that you either put it on silent or take your business elsewhere!"

John actually had the GALL to look offended! "Fine Sherlock. Call me if you need me." He lifted himself out of his favorite chair, stalked down the stairs and slammed the door behind him as he left. Sherlock let out the breath he was holding at John's reaction.

Well, he's off to a marvelous start, isn't he?