A/N
If you ship Phan, please read my authors note at the end. THANK YOU.
John
Thursday
Time seemed to rush by when I was with Sherlock. The days and activities seemed to merge themselves together until soon I couldn't remember if they had even happened. Before I knew it, it was Thursday. That meant I only had a few days left with Sherlock before we had to leave and go back to reality.
It rained (again) so Sherlock and I decided to go to a seaside café we saw on our walk a few days ago. When we arrived, I opened the door, the chime of the bell indicating our arrival. Not that the owner would have been expecting us, of course. As far as we were aware, they didn't even know we existed. We were just known to them as customers. I preferred it that way. They didn't need to know who we were. It made us more mysterious. My mind started to wander and I wondered whether the owner knew all the other people in the café. Perhaps they were the locals. Perhaps they all knew each other. From what we'd seen, the village wasn't that big so the probability of friendship was likely.
I slid into the booth by the window overlooking the sea and Sherlock promptly followed, sitting on the opposite side. A young looking waitress walked over to us and we both ordered a drink. I made an effort to flash her a charming smile, making her blush. In the corner on my eye, I could see Sherlock clench his fist.
Once she'd left, I looked over at Sherlock, "Jealous?"
"No." Blatant lie.
I chuckled to myself as the girl brought over our drinks. She smiled at me nervously before scurrying off. I almost felt bad for flirting with her with no intent of actually dating her...
"So," I asked finally, "what was this trip actually for?"
Sherlock turned his head towards the window, avoiding eye contact.
"It was a thank you."
"For what?"
I watched as his gaze fell to his hands. My eyes followed. His hands were bigger and a lot smoother than mine. I couldn't help but remember what it felt like to hold them.
"You know, this isn't a text. You can't just not reply." I pointed out, still staring at his hands.
"Sorry," he held them up in defeat, "It was just a thank you."
"But what have I done to deserve a thank you?" I asked, possibly sounding more fed up than intended.
"A lot."
I smiled at that and took a sip of my drink in an effort to disguise it. I could hear the raindrops splattering on the window. It reminded me of my heart beat. Whenever I was around Sherlock, it seemed to speed up slightly. Might just be my imagination.
The day past quicker than I'd hoped. Sherlock and I spent hours talking until the sun began to set. Time flew by and I hated it. I wanted to feel like I'd spent hours with Sherlock only to find out it had only been a few minutes. I wanted to find out that we had more time like when you wake up from sleeping and realise you still have ages until you have to officially get up. I wanted more time with Sherlock.
We left the café after giving a generous tip - I felt it was the least I could do to apologise for the flirting. We started the trek back to our hotel. It was still raining heavily and the sky was as grey as dust. Maybe that's what the sky was. Dust. Tiny dust particles filling the air whenever it rains, making it darker. Not a very happy way of looking at it.
Our coats were soaked through by the time we got back. Sherlock was noticeably shivering so I suggested a hot drink. He agreed, throwing himself into a sitting position on the bed.
"Right then..." I muttered, scanning the options, "Tea, coffee or hot chocolate?"
"Hot chocolate?" Sherlock asked.
I turned to him and tilted my head. "Yeah... Have you ever tried one?"
He shook his head tentatively.
"Well, you're in luck, Mr Holmes. I just so happen to make the best hot chocolate in the world."
"I'll be the judge of that."
"You don't have to be." I intervened, "It's already been judged by the queen who liked it so much she gave me a knighthood."
"Sir John Watson." Sherlock mused.
As I made the hot chocolates, Sherlock allowed me to continue exaggerating my story which we both knew full well was not true. I could almost hear him laughing as I told him the tales of how the queen came to taste my apparently incredible hot chocolate. Perhaps I'd raised Sherlock's expectations a bit too high.
A few minutes later, I strutted over to Sherlock with his drink in hand triumphantly announcing, "Your hot chocolate is served."
He took it gratefully. I took a seat next to him on the bed as we began to drink our, admittedly very hot, hot chocolate. Sherlock seemed to enjoy it.
"So," I started once we'd finished, "What did you think?"
Sherlock complimented my creation skills before pointing out some chocolate on my cheek.
"Hang on, you've got something..." Sherlock trailed off, placing his hand on my cheek and removing the hot chocolate with his thumb. I felt my face heat up like Holmes had just lit a fire inside of me. My mind wandered once again and I began to question whether Sherlock had ever physically set a heart on fire.
Not the time Watson.
After a moment, I realised the hand was still on my cheek. "Got it?" I asked so only he could hear. I didn't really want him to take his hand away.
"Yeah." He half whispered.
Our eyes locked and everything about him seemed to become 10 times more beautiful, if that was even possible. I could see absolutely no flaws on this human being at all. I felt like we were no longer on a tiny bed in a hotel room, we were now flying high above Earth, dancing with the stars. The bright lights reflecting off Sherlock's eyes and onto mine. A connection so small barely anyone but us could see. Sherlock and I were just two of the seven billion humans living on the planet but, at the moment, it felt like we were the only ones.
"Are you going to leave your hand there?" I felt immediately stupid for ruining the moment.
Sherlock blushed, "I was going to... Yeah."
"Okay."
We both smiled and I felt as if every single cell in my body smiled with us.
When it came to relationships, I was quite old fashioned in the sense that I believed the man should make the first move. However, considering the circumstances...
"Are you going to kiss me?" I asked, watching as his face turned an even darker shade of scarlet.
Sherlock bit his lip nervously, "Do you want me to?"
I thought for a moment. "Yeah..."
There was an awkward pause.
"...but only if you want to!" I added quickly.
"I do."
"Okay."
"Okay."
Neither of us moved.
"So..." Sherlock muttered, "When do you want me to..."
"Oh come here." I laughed, suddenly gaining courage. I cupped his face in my hands and brought his lips closer to mine.
As our lips collided, I was instantly hit with a wave of electricity I had never experienced when kissing a woman. It was a soft kiss, yes, but perfect none the less. I couldn't imagine kissing anyone else after this.
As we pulled away, I wondered for a brief second if Sherlock could hear my heartbeat.
"Was that okay?" Sherlock asked, slightly breathless.
"Was what okay?"
"The kiss."
"The kiss?"
"I've never kissed anyone before..." He looked down at the floor as he said this as if he was embarrassed.
I lifted his chin with my finger and whispered, "I've never kissed a guy before but I can tell you that that kiss was more than okay."
Needless to say, after the original kiss, we kissed multiple times, each kiss similar to the last. They were all soft and loving. It was nice.
That night, we fell asleep side by side with our fingers intertwined.
A/N
ThEy FInaLLy KiSsEd HoORAy
SIDE NOTE:
Do any of you guys ship Phan?
If so, can you do me a favour and read my phanfiction? It's called "So... Is this living?" The easiest way to find it is probably through the works on my profile thing okay thANKS
- A