Johnlock One-shots

229.The Notebook

Recently, Sherlock's been obsessed with writing in a notebook. He's writing in it in his free time, before he goes to bed, when he wakes up, after anything happened with John.

John figured it was a diary, but Sherlock Holmes doesn't need a diary. He was sitting in his chair watching Sherlock one day, he was scribbling down something in his notebook. It sort of looked like he was drawing. John sat up a little and tried to peek over at it, but Sherlock hid it. John rolled his eyes.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Nothing.”

“That's a lie.” John glared at his friend.

“Yes, it's always a lie when people answer that question with nothing, because even if you're sitting still and not breathing, your blood is still running through your veins and millions of microscopic creatures are crawling over every inch of you, inside, and out.”

John rose his brow, not expecting that response. “Okay…” he mumbled slowly.

“I'm thinking. Drawing helps me think and calm down.” He said quietly.

John smiled widely and stared at his friend. That was so cute, he was drawing to think and relax.

“What are you drawing?” John asked.

“Nothing as long as this conversation continues.” He stood up, stuffing the notebook in the crack of his green chair. “I'm going out.”

“Can I come?” John asked, looking up at Sherlock, who looked so handsome with the light filtering through the window behind him like that.

“No.” John shook his hand and walked to the door, picking up his coat and slipping it on. He left, and John was now alone. He took Sherlock's notebook and leant against his chair, flipping it open.

John knew he was being intrusive on Sherlock's privacy, but he wanted to know what was in that book.

As he flipped through the pages, his expression changed into something more like... scared, or worried. What was this?

Scattered all throughout the book, in Sherlock's messy handwriting, there were notes. Everything was about John, even the pictures glued on to pages or drawings he drew, they were of John. He never knew there were so many ways to say 'I love you.’

He spent awhile looking through the book, and when he was about to put it away, he felt a hand on his shoulders.

Flinching at the touch, John looked up, Sherlock was standing there, staring down at him with the most expressionless face that man was capable of.

John slowly put the notebook on his friend's chair. “I'm real sorry, Sherlock…” he whispered, standing up.

“You weren't supposed to know.” Sherlock said.

John nodded, “I'm sorry,” he walked closer and took Sherlock's hands. “Why did you never tell me?” He asked.

Sherlock thought about what was written in that notebook. Obsessive, and creepy comments about John only a real psychopath would write. He looked down at John's hands, which were comforting and warm.

“I love you.” He said, looking back at John. “I don't expect you to love me, especially after seeing that.”

John moved his hand up Sherlock's forearm then started to rub his arm, he leant up and kissed his friend, closing his eyes and tilting his head.

Sherlock was surprised, he pulled back and pushed John away. John frowned, he felt like he did something wrong now.

Sherlock stared at John blankly. He pouted, “I'm sorry.”

“I-it's okay…” John mumbled, looking down. “I shouldn't have kissed you…”

“No, no, I'm happy you did,” Sherlock stepped closer. He wrapped his arms around his friend's waist and leant over, kissing him gently. Their eyes fluttered closed, John's curious hands slipped under the back of Sherlock’s shirt and felt his soft, smooth skin.

He tilted his head one way, “I love you, too, Sherlock…” he whispered softly, leaning up to kiss him more.

A smile made its way to Sherlock's lips, and he moved a little closer, making the kiss a little deeper.