Fic- When Meeting as Equals - Ch 3
In the morning, John woke up with Sherlock draped over him; clinging to him even in his sleep, which explained why their positions hadn’t changed much during the night. He experimented with trying to slip away, but was unable to disentangle himself and he had to resort to waking Sherlock as his bladder wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Neither apparently was Sherlock, as his response to John saying that he needed to get up was merely to grunt and cling tighter. He considered a threat of wetting the bed but he had a sneaking suspicion that Sherlock wouldn’t object or bother to let go if such an event came to pass. It was time to be firm with him.
“Sherlock let me up right now.”
“Why should I?”
“If you let me go, I’ll come right back. If I have to make you let me go, you are getting tossed out the front door in your pants.”
As he quite meant his words Sherlock was easily able to sense as much and finally rolled away.
When he came back he sat on the side of the bed and stroked a hand down Sherlock’s back. Sherlock immediately rolled over and wrapped his arms around John’s waist and placed his head in John’s lap. This led to John stroking a hand through Sherlock’s hair until something was mumbled into his legs.
“What was that?”
“I said that I might have to start taking into account the supernatural in my deductions.”
“Why on earth would you need to do that?” John asked as he scraped his nails along Sherlock’s scalp, causing him to press his head against that hand and the arms around his waist to squeeze tighter.
“I’m beginning to wonder if someone conjured you up with magic; I cannot remember the last time I slept for so long. I am usually a chronic insomniac - also, that feels wonderful don’t stop.”
“I slept very well myself.” He chuckled and gave Sherlock’s hair a little tug. “Come downstairs with me, I’ll make us some breakfast.”
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
Sherlock followed John down the stairs wondering how he was going to be surprised next. He had just learned that John could be absolutely relaxed, then with no additional tension whatsoever, make a threat that he wouldn’t hesitate to carry out. Was it just John? Or were other people like that too, and he was just unaware of it because he had never been in a relationship like this one.
He pondered the answer to that as he sat watching John putter around in his sister’s kitchen making breakfast. He thought back to the few relationships he had when he was younger and his multitude of experiences with mild but meant threats and could only conclude that it was uniquely John. As so many of the things he was cataloguing about John were. Then he took a bite of the piece of heaven that was the French toast that had been place in front of him and he couldn’t have stopped the words from coming out of his mouth any more than he could stop an avalanche with his bare hands.
“You will marry me won’t you?” A phrase Sherlock was well aware many uttered jokingly to express their enjoyment of excellent food. The difference being that when he said it he absolutely meant it and it was obvious from his anxious rather than jovial tone. He mentally braced himself for the exasperated ‘no’ he knew was coming.
“I might, if you asked me again in about six months. I wouldn’t be comfortable if we haven’t known each other for at least that long before I say yes.” John then turned back to finish cooking his toast but the slightly mischievous smile he had been giving Sherlock seemed to linger in his mind.
The knot in his middle came undone and he tucked back into his food. He would need his strength; he had a six month campaign of courtship ahead of him.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
Week two:
“Sherlock, just for future reference, I don’t consider human body parts as courtship gifts with any favor; or animal parts, whole dead animals or whole dead humans. I prefer offerings of food and being taken to places I would never visit on my own. The morgue doesn’t count.”
Week three:
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to cancel tonight Sherlock. Harry isn’t doing well and Clara needs the break. Don’t sulk; we can go out tomorrow night instead.”
Week four:
“Sherlock if you ever completely disappear like that again we’re through. I don’t care that you were on a case. You text me at least once per twenty-four hour period or I am going to assume you’re dead and that the next time I see you in any kind of upright and mobile capacity it will be as a zombie and I will dismember you on sight.”
Month two:
“Harry still needs care; she and Clara aren’t ready for me to move out yet. The remission is very good news but she still has a long recovery in front of her and I want to be on hand to help her. I don’t really think we’re ready to move into together, no matter how much time you already spend here with me.”
Month three:
“Sherlock, I need to have a job. The emergency department is a good use of my skills. Harry no longer needs the more constant care and I will need the income to move into my own place soon.”
“Why won’t you just move in with me? Then you wouldn’t need to get a job.”
“Your place is little better than a tip. You couldn’t pay me to live there. As for not needing to get a job, wherever your income comes from, I have no intention of playing the part of the kept man. That isn’t even taking into account the fact that I enjoy my work and a three month break from it is more than long enough for me.”
Month four:
“John? John Watson? Stamford, Mike Stamford we were at Bart’s together.”
“Sorry, yes, Mike hello.”
“Yes, I know I’ve got fat.”
“No, no, I was just distracted.”
“I had heard you were abroad somewhere getting shot at. What happened?”
“Oh, you know, getting shot at got old after a while. I’ve retired. I’m working Emergency at Royal London now, just started a month ago.”
“What happened with your leg?”
“That is part of a story that is way too long without at least a cuppa to tell it over.”
Chapter 4
Next up: ASiP revisited