John was bored.
It had been two months since Sherlock had returned and there had been no cases what so ever. Whether this was Greg's doing they didn't know, but the Detective Duo were certainly bored. They had been cooped up in the flat for weeks as the news of detective's return was still new, so Sherlock spent his time tip-toeing around his friend as John was still incredibly annoyed at the detective for what he had done.
You see, when Sherlock had returned after his 2 year absence, John went through a spurt of emotions.
The poor man had quickly popped to the shop to buy some jam as he had run out. Once he had found the correct aisle, he located his favourite jam and reached up to get it. Before his hand could wrap around the pot of deliciousness, a leather-gloved hand plucked the pot from the shelf and handed it to him instead.
John muttered a 'thank you' as he turned around. Suddenly, his heart dropped and tears prickled at the back of his eyes. He peered up at the man and observed his features. His tall frame overlooked John's just how it used too, though it appeared much weaker than before. It was as if he had been hit many times and it hurt too much to stand up straight. His normally short, unruly curls were presented as dark, messy waves that reached his shoulders. He looked so different, yet John knew it was the man he has asked to come back many moons ago.
Within 10 minutes of Sherlock's return, John had managed to: cry a river, smash 7 pots of jam of the shop floor, punch the detective a couple of times in the face and get them both kicked out of the shop.
After that, John had quickly lead Sherlock back to their once shared flat (without his jam, may I just add) and had Sherlock explain everything.
Once the detective had finished explaining his actions, John claimed he understood everything (even though he really didn't) and forgave him.
Two whole months had past and the doctor still didn't quite get it. He would regularly ask about Moriarty's network but very rarely about the actual fall. Those events had crushed him and he didn't want the feeling of emptiness to surround him again.
After much thought about the somewhat depressing situation, John became certain of one thing: he didn't care how Sherlock had faked his death. He wanted to know why.
***
One sunny afternoon, after Sherlock had made him a surprisingly okay cup of coffee, Mr. Watson received a text from Scotland Yard.
I have a case for you. 16 year old girl and 21 year old male killed outside of a bar in Leicester Square but no visible wounds. Anderson thinks they consumed something but we need the 'specialist' to check it out. - GL
Great! Though, is it anything less than a '7'? You know he won't leave the flat if it is...- JW
It's definitely higher than a 7. These bodies seem completely untouched. You'll know where we are; cars are blocking the area off. - GL
A grin formed itself on John's face and he peered up at the detective, who was currently standing by the window playing his auburn violin beautifully. Once Sherlock had finished, he turned around to find John smiling at him like a Cheshire cat. He immediately jumped into his chair; letting the doctor know that he had his full attention.
"William Sherlock Scott Holmes: We have a case!"
Sherlock stared blankly at his friend for a couple of seconds - trying to figure out how he knew his full name. He decided to push questions aside and threw his arms around the doctor's neck, chanting 'brilliant!'. He eventually let go, shook John by the shoulders, smiled and scurried off to his room to get dressed.
John sat in his chair bemused. A small sheepish smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he realized what had just happened: Sherlock Holmes, the man that was incapable of any 'nice' feelings (or compliments for that matter) had just hugged him. For the first time in a long while John felt warm and happy inside. In all honesty, he hadn't felt this way since the times before Sherlock decided to go gallivanting around and faking his own death.
Suddenly those lost feelings of depression and longing appeared to be flooding over John's body. Oh for goodness sake John. He's back, he's alive and he doesn't know.
John pushed those horrible thoughts of the past out of his head as the great detective came galloping into the room. John smiled at Sherlock and reached out to grab his coat. However, before he could seize it, his hand collided with Sherlock's - creating the sensation of sparks running down his arm. John audibly gasped and snatched his arm back. Sherlock, not noticing his friend's actions, grabbed John's coat and handed it to him. John discreetly blushed and walked out the door to their flat.
Once locking the door, John managed to catch up with the detective. "You know what this all means Sherlock?"
"Oh yes. I'm back, and I'm bad!" Sherlock punched the air dramatically.
"I hope you're not bad...Mrs Hudson will be furious if Lestrade organises another drugs bust on you..."
At this, the duo burst into giggles.
***
"Suicide. Obviously." Sherlock removed the disposable gloves he was wearing and looked at Lestrade. After seeing his goldfish expression, he sighed. "Look at you lot. You're all so vacant, is it nice not being me? It must be so relaxing. Do you not see it? She was 5 years younger than her boyfriend. Not saying that there's anything wrong with that, but remember: she was 16. She was still a teenager, and obviously hadn't finished her exams, as it's only February. 'But Sherlock, she could have just finished her exams' I hear you cry. Ladies and gentlemen: yet another example of everyone seeing but not observing. Come on people! No. She had only just turned 16 as her birthday was yesterday. Oh don't look at me like that! Why else would she be wearing a birthday badge? Idiots. Anyway, her family had high expectations of her future so they didn't approve of her having a 21 year old boyfriend. It's understandable really. Her parents told her to break it off with him, but she wouldn't as she knew they were one-hundred percent in love," at this, Sherlock glanced over to John. Catching his glance, the detective quickly focused back on the crime scene. "-So the two lovers decided the only way they could be together was to commit suicide. Cause of death: drug overdose."
A few officers around the crime scene stared in awe at this deduction, clearly wishing they were as intelligent as Sherlock Holmes.
"You see? This is why we need you. The boys were stumped."
"Well 'the boys' are stupid, Lestrade. John, would you agree?"
John had spaced out from the moment Sherlock had looked at him during the deduction. His eyes were scrunched together and he wasn't paying any attention to the outside world, so when Sherlock had asked him a question, he was caught completely off guard.
"Huh?"
"Alcohol poisoning. Yes or no?"
"Er, yeah. Yes."
Sherlock could tell something was the matter with John, but he didn't want to question him in front of everyone. Instead, he turned to a baffled Lestrade.
"Lestrade, this case was a 6. It took me 3 minutes. I'm sure you and your 'boys' aren't really that moronic?" And with that, Sherlock grabbed the collar of John's coat and dragged him into the taxi he had hailed.
***
The drive home was long as traffic was bad, frustrating Sherlock to the max. Every now and then he'd think back to the crime scene. Why had he looked at John when he was referring to love? It was already blatantly obvious that he was in fact in love with the doctor! Now he'd know for sure. He knew he should have just listened to Mycroft in the first place, though he didn't care to mention it to his face. His ego didn't need a boost.
Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the loosing side. Do NOT let you heart rule your head. He chanted this over and over in his head for about 5 minutes, until John broke the silence.
"How did you know all that stuff Sherlock?" John had been thinking about what Sherlock had said, also. He needed to know why Sherlock had looked at him when he mentioned 'love'.
"You know my methods John. Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth."
"Ah I see...no I don't. How did you know that they killed them self due to love?"
The detective's lip twitched upwards into a small smile. "I was taught that sentiment was a chemical defect found on the losing side and, in all honesty, this case has proved my opinion correct-" as he took a breath to say what was next in his explain arisen, Sherlock saw the expression on his friends face slip from concentration to pained. Realization flooded over him like a rising tide and he mentally cursed himself for being so oblivious.
Sherlock let out an irritated sigh and turned to the window and rested his head against it. After a few minutes of pure thinking, he began hitting his head on the window, attracting a couple of strange glances from the cab driver.
"Alright there mate?" The driver had a think cockney accent, very much like the cabby John had shot when they were on their first case together. Thinking about it now, John had shown signs of attraction to Sherlock even though he had denied it. This frustrated the detective even more. He groaned even louder and hit his head even harder against the window.
As Sherlock never replied to the driver, John grumbled an answer back. "Oh he's fine. Just as up-himself as always."
This gained even more head banging from Sherlock and a sheepish look from the driver.
Once they arrived back in 221B, John stormed up the stairs and slumped back in his chair.
"John..."
"What."
The detective walked his way over to where John was sitting and crouched down, resting his chin on the arm of the chair. "Can I finish what I was going to say?" Sherlock glanced up at the doctor, staring into his eyes as he placed a hand on top of his. He detained a small smile and waited for his friends answer.
"If you must but...urgh! You never show any concern to anyone else's damn feelings! Yes, I know. 'Sentiment is a chemical defect' blah blah blah, but we're best friends for goodness sake!"
At this, Sherlock scoffed.
"What?" John asked, irritated.
"John. I know."
John knew what his friend meant, causing his cheeks to heat up in embarrassment. "Y-You knew? How did you know?"
Sherlock smirked and leaned in to whisper his answer in the doctor's ear. "Because I checked your pulse." He then kissed John sweetly on the lips. Realisation swept over the doctor, and a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders.
The two smiled widely at each other, realising this was the happiest they'd both been in a long time.
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Hello everyone!
Apologies for the wait...I've had really bad writers block. But, tah dah! Here's a new chapter for you!
Love you all,
~Rosie x