"John."
John looked up from his laptop and to his flatmate who was sitting rather weirdly on the couch. Legs apart - so apart that the stitches on the crotch of his pajamas almost gave up -, one hand on his hips and the other resting on his crotch area.
What is with him?
Sherlock looked at him intensely. Like a panther looking at his prey. Like a panther who is waiting to eat up its prey. Eyes dark, pupils dilated and if John was not mistaken, something had flickered in his flatmates eyes.
The army doctor raised a brow at that before speaking and asking Sherlock.
"What is it?"
Sherlock smirked and John didn't miss that. That little smile on the detective's face as he shifted on his seat and went to his I-Am-Thinking position told John that the madman might have thought of something ridiculous and might ask him to do participate on that particular thing.
John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Anything will do, really. Anything but having a staring contest with a decapitated head would do. They did that last week (because Sherlock was bored) and John had almost spent the entire night staring at the ceiling, troubled and scared.
"What is it?" John repeated, closing his eyes. Why'd he even bother to ask Sherlock again? He knew that it wasn't gonna be a good idea, so why the hell did he just do that?
Sherlock grinned, and with no hesitation he said: "Cuddle with me."
John felt like something hard fell on top of his head and birds were chirping and flying around him after hearing that.
Cuddle with me? Did he just hear Sherlock Holmes, - the world's only consulting detective, a self-proclaimed sociopath, and a man who's married to his work - say that? Did he?
He had to gently and violently shake his head just to get what Sherlock just said.
What?
After pondering - if you can call it pondering since it only lasted for seconds - John just felt like he had to ask Sherlock again. He needed the clarification because maybe he was just imagining things.
"I'm sorry... what?"
Sherlock groaned, irritated. He ruffled his curls angrily and glared at John.
"You heard it the first time I said it and what you're doing now is completely idiotic. Don't make me repeat my words, John. Now, come here and CUDDLE WITH ME!"
Sherlock patted the space beside him. He looked at John and glared when he realized that the doctor was smiling at him.
"What!" The detective half shouted.
John chuckled, looking smug and triumphant. "You said 'dont make me repeat my words' but you just did, actually."
"Fuck off." Sherlock hissed, sounding a little bit angry but he still kept on patting the couch though.
Seconds later, the doctor closed his laptop, stood up and put the computer on his armchair. He walked over to where Sherlock was and with a hand on his hip he asked, "What now?"
Sherlock looked up at him and smiled, "Bored."
"Oh, yes, of course you are. You are always bored. Why am I still surprised. Now, what is this cuddling thing for?" John let out a sigh.
"Oh, nothing, really. It's just for an experiment, John." Yes, there was that smirk again... but then Sherlock eyes looked different. Somehow it was close to being hurt. Hurt? Why would he be hurt?
John raised a brow in confusion, "Cuddles, huh?"
"Hmm," Sherlock answered.
"So, you're interested in cuddling now, hmm? Not going to make me stare into a dead man's decapitated head this time?" John asked, rather irritated at that memory replaying in his mind. Why'd he even agree to that stupid staring contest in the first place?
Sherlock looked suddenly frustrated, "Are you going to do it or not?"
John shrugged.
The detective sighed, "Okay, I'm giving you two options. Yes and No."
"Hm, okay?"
"You say yes, we all live happily ever after. No disruption of peace, no yelling and tantrums from me. No blowing up the house and the oven and the decapitated head goes to the garbage. Say no, and I'm going to take it out on the wall. Again."
Sherlock's said that with a little bit of threat in his voice. He sounded so damn serious... but instead of being scared, John laughed loudly and even clutched at his side to emphasise that what Sherlock said was totally, absolutely funny and ridiculous. (More of like a mocking laugh, really.)
Sherlock's brows furrowed in irritation. John just continued laughing.
"How about a NO, Sherlock? Hah! I know you can't take it out on the wall again because I have been really careful. I've hidden my gun in the safest, scariest, most... What the f - ?"
All of John's remaining words were cut off when Sherlock held his gun in front of his face.
John groaned and put a hand on his forehead. "Dammit." Hah. He fucking found it. Why the hell am I even surprised?
"If you think your underwear drawer is the safest place to hide it, then you're wrong," Sherlock said, waving the gun carelessly. "And if you think I'm scared of underwears, think again. Sex doesn't even alarm me and you think underwears would? God, John."
John's eyes widened for a moment. Sherlock sure was saying a lot of weird things today.
"Geh." The doctor shoved the gun out of his face and went to sit beside Sherlock.
"Ugh. You went through that drawer?" he asked, quite embarrassed.
"Yes," Sherlock chuckled, "Lots of red."
"Oh, goodness. I'll fucking cut you, Sherlock. I will fucking cut you." John was quite sure he'd die of embarrasment today, so he just had to get this over with.
The doctor sighed and without thinking anymore, he got comfortable on the couch and spread his arms... inviting Sherlock for a, well, uhm, a cuddle.
The detective looked thoroughly amused at the gesture. "What's that?"
John clicked his tongue, "Move now before I whack you on the head with something, you git."
"Move what?"
"Ugh! Cuddle! You wanted to cuddle, right!?" John was red up to his ears, clearly shy and it somehow amused Sherlock more.
"Pull me."
"Pull - what?"
"Pull me into your arms... to quote those romance novels you sometimes read when you're bored."
John sighed, "Ugh. Okay, fine. You want to be fucking dramatic, I'll give you fucking dramatic. If you can fucking call this fucking dramatic."
The doctor held on to Sherlock's silky, blue robe and gently pulled him on to his chest. The detective's eyes widened for a moment then he smiled when his cheeks came in contact with John's warm chest.
"That wasn't fucking dramatic at all." Sherlock said, smiling and getting comfortable, too.
"I know, so fuck off."
A moment of silence.
"Why are you doing this, Sherlock?"
"Doing... doing what?" The detective put a hand on John's chest and leaned more. It was definitely warm and comforting.
"This... experiment, as you call it."
"Oh, I don't know. I'm bored and I wanted to do an experiment. And I remembered this thing Mrs. Hudson told me..."
"What thing?" John asked and tried to look down to see his flatmate's face.
"Mrs. Hudson once told me that..." Sherlock yawned.
"Told you what?"
Sherlock yawned again.
"Sherlock?"
"Told me that sleeping would be a hundred times better if I was cuddling with someone...." Yawn.
"Someone?"
Yawn.
"Someone..."
Yawn.
"Hey, Sherlock?"
"Someone I..."
"Hmm?"
"I lo..."
Sherlock's breathing had become deep and relaxed. The slow rising and falling of the detective's chest told John that he was already asleep...
John groaned. Waking Sherlock up would be like provoking a sleeping dragon. There will be chaos. So, the army doctor decided not to. Also, the detective looked really comfortable in his position right now, so, yes, not waking him up.
I never saw him sleep this peacefully... Wow... I guess?
So, was he going to sit here all day and wait until Sherlock wakes up? Or... just sit here all day and wait until Sherlock wakes up?
Hmm. Guess he didn't have much choice.
Bored, John started touching Sherlock's curls, twirling them in his fingers... and he realized how weird it looked like.
Him and Sherlock, just flatmates, colleagues, friends... doing this.
Oh, God. I hope nobody's watching us.
John rolled his eyes and decided to ignore all the things that were running in his mind. He leaned on the headrest of the couch, closing his eyes. This thing... this is just an experiment... an experiment that Sherlock Holmes thought was a good idea. That's it. Nothing more, nothing less. He shouldn't be expecting anything from this.
John bit his lower lip. What he actually meant with 'expecting', he didn't know. He needed to get the wrong thought out of his head. He needed to think of something else. The feeling of expectations should wear off or else... he'd have his heart waiting, expectant and broken.
Sighs.
Minutes later, John drifted off to sleep as well... not hearing the word that came out of his flatmate's mouth whilst sleeping.
"L... Love..."