The Figure In Black (Rosie Parentlock)

Chapter 7

Oof I know I said this was discontinued but you can't ignore a burst of motivation when you're exhausted after coming home from holiday. I'll try and continue writing it, I miss my boys.

Sherlock's POV

The afternoon had dragged on and had been extremely boring for Sherlock. For the last few hours he had been sitting on the coach, staring wistfully at the cupboard where he used to hide his cigarettes, before Mrs Hudson and John found out and took them away. His feet were up on the coffee table and he had undone the top two buttons on his shirt due to the high temperature of the room. Sighing, he contemplated whether to go and talk to John or at least do something. He was still silently punishing himself for letting John realise he had actually felt jealousy when the silver-haired man had suggested the woman stay. However, he had told himself many times, John did seem to be uncomfortable with the idea that you are going to take a case for a woman who looks a lot like Irene Adler. Shaking the thought from his head one last time, he stood up. He had to focus on the case. The case was the most important thing. Shuffling his feet along the floor, he moved over to where the table and started to set up the equipment he used for analysing any data. Charlie would most like bring something he would need to analyse. Rubbing his hands together in excitement for the next day, he thought about what he might need. An hour later, everything was done. And he was bored again.
"John come here and do something with me." Sherlock whined, forgetting the awkward moments from that morning. The floorboards creaked as John walked into the room, his eyes looking tired.
"What do you want?" John yawned, raising his eyebrows at Sherlock. Just as the curly-haired man was about to reply, he noticed John's eyes look down slightly, to his chest.
Oh yes. The buttons.
Sherlock looked down at where the top part of his chest was exposed, before looking up at John and taking in the panic on his face.
"Oh, I wasn't. Sorry. Um." John ran a hand through his hair, looking away.
Was he blushing?
Shaking his head slightly at his own thoughts, Sherlock smiled warmly at John to distract him from his obvious embarrassment.
"I apologise for earlier."
Tell him.
"I'm not attracted to Charlie, nor was I to Irene."
You're so close.
"How could I be? They were both just clients." He shrugged as he felt heat rushing through him. He couldn't tell him. He just couldn't.
"Oh. Of course." John briefly smiled back at his flatmate. "You...said you wanted to do something with me." John shook his head quickly "I mean, like an activity. Or something. You know." He scratched the back of his neck. Sherlock felt a laugh starting to bubble up in his throat. Was his friend worried about Sherlock thinking he had feelings for him? Or did he actually have feelings for him? Holding back his laugh, Sherlock took a deep breath.
"John." His voice was softer. There was no point in having any more of these awkward moments. John's eyes met with his the moment the words had left his mouth.
"Yes?" John's voice wobbled slightly. Anyone would be able to tell he was nervous.
He had to start by apologising.
He'd been a dick these last few days.
"I'm sorry for how I have been treating you."
John suddenly laughed. It sounded relieved?
Was that a hint of disappointment hiding behind his laughter?
"That was sudden. What brought this on." His head tilted slightly, looking inquisitively at Sherlock.
"Because I do actually care about you. A lot. Even if I don't show it." Sherlock was aware of how soft his voice had gone, almost unnatural. John was also very aware. And he wasn't laughing anymore.
"As do I about you. But what are you saying?" John seemed to regret his words immediately, gripping at the side of the chair he was standing next to.
"I don't know." Immediately Sherlock cursed himself internally.
That was your chance.
He moved his legs forward and slumped down in his seat. He was surprised when John came and sat down next to him. Close. Almost touching. John's eyes were wide as he looked over at the man sitting next to him. Sherlock looked back at him, ignoring the tinge of red in his friend's cheeks. Shuffling over slightly, he sat so that their shoulders were touching. For a few seconds that felt like ages neither of them said a word. Until John broke the silence.
"Are you still bored?"
"Not anymore."