Skinny Love: A Johnlock Fanfiction

Chapter One

"C'mon, skinny love what happened here?" ~Skinny Love by Bon Iver

Sherlock

"Sherlock, are you hungry?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"You're staring at my dinner."

"I'm just thinking," Sherlock said, shaking himself from his daze.

"It's okay if you order something, you know," John said, sticking a forkful of pasta into his mouth. "In fact, you really should."

"Digesting slows me down," Sherlock sighed, resting his elbows on the table.

"Ya, but food provides energy." John argued. "Essential nutrients. Keeps the brain and the body functioning."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked out the restaurant's window. Cabs whizzed by, their lit 'TAXI' signs taunting him. He tapped his fingers impatiently.

"We're on a big case, John," he huffed. "This is an inconvenient time for a lecture on proper nutrition."

"But you should-"

"Enough!" Sherlock snapped, turning on John with fiery eyes, "I don't care if food gives me vitamins or minerals or crystallites! What the hell is it to me?"

John pursed his lips and glared at the detective. A full minute of heated staring commenced, with both men refusing to break eye contact. Suddenly, John looked away and motioned to a waitress.

"Finally!" Sherlock heaved another sigh and fell back in his chair. "We can do something of importance!"

"Are you finished, sir?" The cheerful waitress asked. 'Single. Two dogs. Recent graduate from culinary school. Wishes to be a real chef but is working her way up,' Sherlock deduced in seconds. Damn, he really was bored.

"No, not quite," John replied with a sly grin at Sherlock. "I'd love some cheesecake."

"Wonderful!" She chirped and scribbled down the order. She turned to Sherlock. "And for you, sir?"

"Nothing," Sherlock growled, slouching in his chair.

"Oh, but we'll need two forks," John added, causing Sherlock to sit upright. The perplexed waitress looked between the fuming Sherlock and the complacent John. She then broke into a goofy grin.

"Oh my god, you guys are going to share?" She squealed, "That's so cute! You are an adorable couple!"

John's cheeks reddened, and Sherlock smirked. This was the fifth time this month they've gotten a similar remark. Not that Sherlock was counting or anything.

"We are not a couple!" John grumbled, shooting the young woman a look. She just giggled and walked back to the kitchen.

"What are you trying to do?" Sherlock hissed.

John rolled his eyes. "Telling people the truth! I'm not gay-"

"No not that!" Sherlock said, "The sharing of this 'cheesecake' thing."

"Wait, you've never had cheesecake?" John shook his head in awe, "Then you have to try it!"

"How do you know I'm not lactose intolerant?"

"You put cream in your tea."

Sherlock groaned and ran his fingers through his curly hair. "I don't want any cheese-flavored cake! That sounds disgusting!"

John laughed. "It doesn't actually taste like cheese, Sherlock. It's really good, I promise!"

Just then the waitress appeared with the dessert and two forks. "Here you go! Enjoy!" With a playful wink she was gone.

Sherlock wrinkled his nose at the unfamiliar pastry between them. It looked like a soft slice of cheese on top of a crust of crushed biscuits. Some sort of fruit syrup was drizzled over a few raspberries on top.

Sherlock felt his hollow stomach rumble. He hadn't really eaten much for the past few days, and this did look somewhat appetizing.

"Mmmmm, looks good!" John grabbed a fork and took a mouthful of cheesecake. He chewed slowly, closing his eyes for dramatic effect. "Oh, so good!"

"No thank you."

"Seriously? Just one bite!"

"Nope."

"For god's sake," John groaned. "It's like I'm dealing with a child."

"A child that has a string of murders to solve," Sherlock shot back. "Enough with this idiocy. I have better things to do."

"We aren't leaving until you eat some cheesecake," John said resolutely, crossing his arms.

"Make me," Sherlock challenged.

John's face softened, and he looked at his friend pleadingly. "Please," he said gently. "For me."

Sherlock bit his lip, willing himself to not drown in John's deep blue eyes. Despite his best efforts to remain strong, he cracked.

"Ugh, fine!" He moaned, picking up a fork. He took a scoop of the thick layer and hastily shoved it into his mouth. An unusual sweetness erupted on his tongue, almost causing him to spit it out. But then the flavor became familiar to his taste buds. Too familiar.

Sherlock was well aware that taste could link to memories. It was textbook: commonplace occurrences, such as the consumption of food, often prompt an involuntary recollection of memories. Yet he never thought taste had the power to summon things he had buried deep in his mind palace.

He remembered her. Katherine. He could see her, smiling at him in the inky darkness. Her eyes like dark chocolate in the flickering light of birthday candles. Her voice like wind chimes as she whispered, "Make a wish, William."

"No," Sherlock choked. "No, get out of my head!" He wished she would disintegrate. He wished her fake smile would crack. He wished she would shatter into a million pieces like a porcelain doll.

But Sherlock knew she would win.

John

"SHERLOCK!" John cried as his his friend let out a tortured scream. Sherlock swiped his arm across the table, sending the plate of cheesecake shattering to the floor. He began rocking back and forth, whimpering softly. His breathing was shaky and hollow, like a drowning man.

"Sherlock! Sherlock! Listen to me!" John pleaded. Other diners were looking at them in shock, and a waitress was eyeing them warily as she spoke to the manager. I have to stop this panic attack before they call the police, John realized. I have to do something.

"Calm down... please." John took Sherlock's twitching hands in his own. A strange sensation, like a spark, crawled up John's fingertips.

The pale hands froze, then melted into John's touch. Sherlock's cloudy eyes turned a sharp blue, and he stared at John.

"What... why..." Sherlock gasped, looking down at their hands in amazement. He then noticed the broken china and splattered cheesecake on the floor. "Oh, god." He abruptly stood up, releasing John's hands. "We must leave. Now."

"But the bill..."

Sherlock dug into his pockets and threw some money on the table. "There. That should cover the cost of the plate as well. Let's go." He sprinted to the door.

John just stared at the fleeing man, his mind trying to grasp the scene that had played out before him. Sherlock Holmes had gone from his usual arrogant self to a terrified mess in a matter of minutes. He hadn't seen Sherlock this scared since the Hound incident, but that had been understandable. Drugs had been playing with his emotions. But this time it was just a bite of cheesecake. Food shouldn't do that.

John grabbed his coat to leave, but then noticed something that made his jaw drop. Sherlock had been so eager to leave that he forgot his trench coat and scarf. Something was definitely wrong.