Sherlock glanced up curiously when John moved, adjusting himself accordingly to lay down next to him. He normally would never have found a conversation about sentiment so engaging, but when John's eyes locked with his, he found he couldn't pull his focus from him. He nodded intermittently, John's smile making his insides do a strange flip at the sight of it. Was this how one normally felt around their best friend, like being close like this was something totally natural? He had no way to know, so he quashed the unfamiliar feeling and pressed on.
"I can certainly get on board with anything that makes you more agreeable." he replied teasingly, though that wasn't the only thing he liked about this 'best friend' arrangement. "I do appreciate your help." he added, avoiding John's gaze for a moment so he didn't think he was getting too sentimental about it. "The data is very useful."
His eyes fell to John's hands, reaching out to ghost his fingers over John's for a quick moment, remembering the way their fingers were threaded together earlier that morning and finding himself wanting to do it again. He tugged his hand back when he realized what he was doing, finally looking up to meet John's eyes again.
"Didn't you say you wanted to do something?" he asked, deflecting away from that unsettling urge for human contact to focus on something far less complicated.
The entire morning had been almost unbearably intimate, a feeling driven home even more by the fact that Sherlock was not an emotional person. At all. John knew his friend cared, sometimes, in his own way, but this... this was more than that. This was new, and John didn't really know what to do with it. Still, he would take great care not to create a repeat of the other day, where he had lost control of himself and stormed out of the flat. That would simply not do.
Regardless of all that, John sat up and moved out of the bed upon hearing Sherlock's question, tugging down his t-shirt and running a hand through his bedhair. "I did say that, didn't I?" he quipped gently, smiling down at the other man. "Let me go and get a shower, and I'll, I don't know, check out some things on the net, see if anything's up that might be of interest to us. Alright?"
The floor felt cold against John's bare feet. He missed the warm comfort of the bed and Sherlock's presence already.
Sherlock made a soft noise of protest when John had the nerve to get up, sitting up to watch him as he got up. He wrapped the blanket further around himself and tugged his knees to his chest, regarding John as he spoke with his cheek resting against his knee.
"Yes, alright." he consented, waving him off to take his boring shower as much as he wished he was still in bed with him. The urge to get up and pull him back into his arms was as strong as it was alarming, and it took considerable effort to remain in his bed.
When John left for his shower, he flopped back down on the bed, tugging a pillow to his face and breathing in the scent of that cologne he was so partial to. He sat up quickly just as soon as he realized was he was doing, shaking his head at himself and how strange his own behavior was becoming as this experiment went on. He went with his own standby of getting back to work, picking up his notes from the nightstand to scribble down the findings from last night.
He moved to the kitchen after that, putting the kettle on and making two mugs of tea, blinking in surprise when he noticed what he was doing, still unsettled by how his habits were altered since he started sleeping with John. He moved to the sitting room, placing what was to be John's mug on the coffee table as he took a seat on the sofa and sipped at his own, waiting for John to join him again.
John was taking his time in the bathroom, needing a few moments of privacy to reflect on the past two days, and certainly on the morning that had been. It had been surprisingly nice to sleep next to Sherlock this past night, and nicer still to spent the morning in bed with him, all wrapped in one another. This concerned John. It concerned him greatly. Because no, it was not something best friends did-- at least not something he did with his best, very male, friend. And this was what had bothered John the most, he thought, as he stood under the shower. It had felt like a morning shared between a couple. And that distant realization and knowledge... had not bothered him in the slightest. He had not even wondered about it. He had simply fallen into it, wrapping Sherlock in his arms, petting his hair, sharing smiles and stories and breakfast in bed, for goodness sake, like this was something they did every day. Sherlock's behaviour had thrown the good doctor as well. He had made John breakfast in bed, had said a number of things that were positively kind and caring for Sherlock's doing. John certainly had no issue with the effects the experiments were having on Sherlock... but he was starting to wonder about his own responses. He could tell he was looking forward to that evening a great deal, having Sherlock in his bed. What on earth did that even mean?
Not wanting to linger on these confusing thoughts any longer, John turned off the shower and quickly dried himself off. He emerged from the bathroom wearing his morning dressing gown, and a small towel draped around his neck, which he used to towel his hair dry as he entered the sitting room. Noting the tea mug, he smiled at Sherlock and murmured a quiet 'thank you'. Breakfast, now tea... This really was most unusual, but John decided to appreciate it, rather than question it. He could always do that later. And he might have to. Grabbing his laptop, he sat down next to Sherlock, and started it up. "Let's see what London has to offer us today," he mused out loud, waiting for his desktop to load. "Any preferences? This is our day off, you have a say."
Sherlock was trying resolutely not to think too much about the unsettling feelings (as much as he abhorred using the term in reference to himself), having been getting too caught up already when this was supposed to be just an experiment. What would he do if John got cross with him again, or if he ever decided to find another boring girlfriend again? He'd probably fall back into old habits, ignoring the need for sleep until succumbing to exhaustion, never again actually enjoying the activity as he had been. It tugged at him unexpectedly to think about waking up without John next to him, so he pushed it all down and grabbed his mobile, distracting himself by checking for any interesting news headlines.
He glanced up when John returned, giving a short nod at his offered thanks. "It was nothing." he replied, tapping away at his mobile with an impassive expression. His eyes flicked over when John sat next to him, quashing a sudden and disconcerting urge to push John's laptop out of his lap and climb on top of him himself. He shook his head to get rid of that thought, making like it was an answer to his question as he pulled his legs to his chest and leaned his back against John's arm as he played with his phone. "Nothing as far as I can see." he groused, bored out of his skull by all the commonplace headlines he was reading. "Whatever you choose, just try not to make it too painfully boring." he replied, trying to get back to some semblance of normalcy by putting on his regular attitude and ignoring any sort of emotion he may have after sleeping for two nights next to John.
John smiled patiently at Sherlock's mutters and murmurs; a bored Sherlock was an unpredictable Sherlock, but John mostly found it endearing... Mind, as long as the boredom was not aimed at him or any of his belongings. Scrolling mindlessly through various London websites, John tilted his head in thought, leaning into Sherlock as much as the other man was leaning into him. "We could... go to a museum? Art gallery? Theater? Science museum has a new exhibition..." Really, the capital offered too many things to keep track off on a daily basis, but actually finding something that would hold Sherlock's attention for longer than a minute was going to be a challenge. "We could go to the shooting range I frequent," he offered, looking sideways at the other man. "I tend to go on this day if we don't have a case on. Or, I don't know, maybe Molly has a new body in that's suitable for one of your experiments?"
There was, of course, always the option of staying in, but that would most certainly bore Sherlock to death. John would spend the day on his laptop, reading the paper of watching crap telly. Not exactly exciting, that.
Sherlock huffed a little and tossed his mobile on the coffee table, shifting a bit so his cheek was resting on John's shoulder, watching him search for something for them to do. He found himself watching John's hands more than the laptop screen, always finding it equal parts frustrating and endearing how long it took John to navigate the keyboard. It was mostly endearing right now, considering Sherlock was content just resting against him as he was, flirting with the desire to take one of his hands in his own and see if it would take him twice as long to search for an activity.
"It would depend on which museum. I'm not allowed at the science museum or the British museum as I've had...run-ins with the majority of the staff there. They don't take very well to having their facts checked." he harrumphed, certain that he should have gotten his own wing with all the times he corrected the guides and displays. "Art and theater are dull and pretentious." He did raise an eyebrow at the last two suggestions though. "Mm, now you're thinking." He rubbed his cheek slightly against John's shoulder as though congratulating him on a job well done.
"You're certain you want to exacerbate my habits of shooting up the walls and keeping body parts in the fridge?" he asked teasingly, glancing up to give him a considering look. "I do believe our sleeping together has made you soppy." he added, using the teasing as a test to see if John would admit to being affected at all by their experiment or if he should try even harder to do away with the strange feelings surfacing in him.
John smiled softly in wry fondness when Sherlock told him about the museums. Not surprising in the slightest, that, and really, John should have known that any type of center of knowledge was going to be like a toy for Sherlock to take apart bit and bit and put back together to what he deemed to be right. Even if said toy was going to insult dozens of people who had spent the bigger part of their adult lives on the research revolving around it.
"I figured you would enjoy some kind of musical performance at the theater or opera house," John said, looking sideways and ending up with his face somewhat buried in dark, unruly curls. Gods, but the man smelled good. "Or is it an insult to your expert ear, maestro?" Not waiting for an answer, John looked up the website of the shooting range to check out today's opening hours. At Sherlock's question, however, he blinked, and thought about it for a moment. Soppy? Surely not? John was, after all, an exceptionally patient man, and he had gotten used to most of Sherlock's antics...
"Nonsense," he muttered, though the memory of them sleeping together still left him feeling warm on the inside. "You're not that cute," he added teasingly, bumping their shoulders together.
Sherlock hummed in interest at the mention of watching a musical performance, actually not finding that idea too bad, actually. He chuckled softly at John's question, shaking his head a little.
"No, I think I'd enjoy that." he replied, though he was also currently wondering whether or not he wanted to leave the flat at all. He was beginning to feel like he would have enjoyed just staying in bed as they were this morning, the way everything felt so warm and safe and comfortable so intensely appealing it was almost alarming. He accused John of being sentimental, but maybe he should be asking himself the same thing. Wanting to spend every moment pressed up against your flatmate was something to be alarmed about, wasn't it?
He was pulled out of his reverie when John answered him, smiling to himself at his reply. "I have it on good authority that I am. How else would I get all the favors and information that I do?" It certainly wasn't because of his winning personality. "Have you decided yet where you're dragging me off to?" he said, doing his best to sound entirely put off by it despite the fact that he was currently getting comfortable leaning against John again.
Another alarming thought hit him just then, that thought being that he didn't much care where they went just so long as John was with him. This experiment was certainly having some unintended effects, but then that was part of what made it so interesting. He only hoped his sudden proclivity for disregarding John's personal space more than necessary didn't end up putting him off somehow. He didn't seem to have much of a problem with it yet, anyway.
"Impatient," John accused, with no small amount of fondness. Truthfully, he was feeling somewhat surprised that Sherlock wasn't bouncing off the walls already; this staying close to and leaning into John at every available moment since they got up did strike him as unsual, but then, most things about living with one Sherlock Holmes were out of the ordinary. "I'm trying to see if there's any classical concerts on tonight," he explained as his fingers slowly moved across the keyboard. "Seeing as that seems to have caught your interest. Any preferences in terms of pieces or composers? Might make it an easier search." There was always so much going on in London; John hardly understood how a person was supposed to keep up. It was astounding, truly. He had been so wrapped up in Sherlock's work, the cases, he rarely got to go into the city to simply explore it, enjoy it.
"There's a pianist playing Schubert at the Ciné Lumière... And Handel's Messiah is being performed at St. John Smith Square... Perhaps Verdi's Rigoletto at St. John's Notting Hill?"
Sherlock just hummed softly, almost in agreement at John's descriptor. In truth, he actually wasn't feeling too antsy at the moment, still not wanting to stop leaning against him as he was. When they were at home, it was fine, but John would probably get flustered with him if he tried this out in public. He wanted to milk this for all it was worth until the time came that he'd have to stay out of John's personal space again, if he could even help himself.
"No opera. It's far too tedious and melodramatic and drags on for ages." he said, pulling his gaze from watching John's hands to the screen. "I suppose the pianist could be tolerable." he replied, though he still made no move to actually get up and get ready to go out. "When is it?" he asked, letting his eyes fall shut and feeling far too content and lazy to actually read the website in front of him.
ugh, our fluffy bbs *puts them in my pocket*crimebloggerMarch 25 2013, 01:29:10 UTC
"Tonight, at seven," John answered as he slowly browsed his way through the website. "Seems the Ciné Lumière is doing piano recitals of Romantic music all throughout the season. Pianist's name is Imogen Cooper. Oh, there's an audio file of some sort here..." John clicked on it curiously, and instantly their sitting room was filled with the sounds of Schubert's Drei Klavierstücke (No 1 in E flat minor; No 2 in E flat major; and No 3 in C major), to serve as a preview for those potentially interested in attending the concert. John decided to leave it on for the time being, simply absorbing the music. He had no idea of the technicalities or the difficulty level, but felt himself transported by the music even so. It was soothing, yet engaging, and he leaned slightly into Sherlock himself as he listened.
Unusual as it was, John really was enjoying this. Sherlock was a difficult man to live with, despite the fact that John had gotten used to so many of his habits. Even his patience sometimes wore thin. But like this, resting on the sofa in the middle of the day (God, John hadn't even gotten dressed yet, he was still sitting in his dressing gown), with Sherlock leaning against him and no sound made expect the classical music that came from the laptop... John felt infinitely at peace and content.
Sherlock made a soft noise of assent, though he still wondered if he'd want to leave this by then. This desire to stay so close to John was as sudden as it was unsettling, but John hadn't questioned it yet, so why should he? He'd always wanted to try out the experiment of human contact, but he'd never let anyone close enough until now. Until John. He was something singular, and Sherlock relished the idea that he would never quite figure him out completely.
A similar state of contentment to John's came over him as the music played, the soothing sounds of the melody and the appealing warmth of John making this all so very good. The need to continue his experiment with physical contact took over, making him inch a hand over to rest it over one of John's now that he was no longer occupied with the keyboard. He found himself unconsciously holding his breath, still waiting for the moment when he would push too far and cause John to pull away. He wasn't sure if this was allowed now that they were awake, and his always inquisitive mind had to know for sure just where the line was.
John was rudely pulled out of his reverie woven together by Schubert's music when Sherlock's hand covered his. The touch was very unexpected, especially considering who it came from. John did not pull back his hand, though. Instead, he drew back a little, enough to be able to look at Sherlock, watch him, try and figure out what was going on. At length, he smiled, kindly. "What on earth has gotten into you?" he murmured, not disapprovingly, but fondly, almost teasingly. He turned his own hand around without breaking contact, so their palms touched, an echo from earlier that morning, when they were still lying in bed. It was like calming a skittish cat, John thought in the back of his mind, touching Sherlock. Slow movements, small ones, trying to gain trust without getting scratched or bitten in the process.
"We can stay in, you know," he continued, looking down at their hands. "We can find a more complete selection of Schubert's music to put on, or you can play the violin, do some more experiments in the kitchen, whatever you want. I can cook? Or help you gather more information for the sleeping experiment? I imagine you have some questions for me."
Sherlock ducked his head further against him when John tried to look at him, not wanting to show his face after doing something he wasn't used to wanting to try. He shook his head, an unfamiliar warmth gathering in his core at that tone that was fond rather than derisive as he was expecting.
"Experiment." he murmured, the tingling warmth in his stomach only exacerbated when John's hand turned over in his, moving slowly to thread their fingers together as they had been this morning. He had said it was an experiment, but he couldn't help feeling that maybe he was ill somehow, like that could somehow explain away his want to stay close to John.
He smiled to himself at John's plan for the evening, his affection for him swelling at how he seemed to know exactly what to say. "That sounds agreeable to me." he replied, going quiet in contemplation for a long moment. "Is there anything I shouldn't do? I find myself...becoming partial to this." he indicated their clasped hands. "I don't want to make you reconsider our arrangement because I ended up pushing a boundary I didn't know was there."
"You, not pushing a boundary?" John relaxed a little further into the sofa, setting aside the laptop for the time being (but not before putting the audio file on 'repeat'; it was nice, having it on, softly, in the background). "It's who you are, Sherlock," he continued, brushing his thumb across the back of the other's hand. "You push, and you push, and you push, because you try to understand. If you're pushing too hard, or too far, I'll let you know. Don't you worry about that. Okay?"
He looked sideways again, his smile lingering. "And if you're growing partial to this, that's only a good thing in my book. Sentiment," he reminded him, "often enough it leads to displays of affection. It's normal, Sherlock. It's good."
"I can certainly get on board with anything that makes you more agreeable." he replied teasingly, though that wasn't the only thing he liked about this 'best friend' arrangement. "I do appreciate your help." he added, avoiding John's gaze for a moment so he didn't think he was getting too sentimental about it. "The data is very useful."
His eyes fell to John's hands, reaching out to ghost his fingers over John's for a quick moment, remembering the way their fingers were threaded together earlier that morning and finding himself wanting to do it again. He tugged his hand back when he realized what he was doing, finally looking up to meet John's eyes again.
"Didn't you say you wanted to do something?" he asked, deflecting away from that unsettling urge for human contact to focus on something far less complicated.
Reply
Regardless of all that, John sat up and moved out of the bed upon hearing Sherlock's question, tugging down his t-shirt and running a hand through his bedhair. "I did say that, didn't I?" he quipped gently, smiling down at the other man. "Let me go and get a shower, and I'll, I don't know, check out some things on the net, see if anything's up that might be of interest to us. Alright?"
The floor felt cold against John's bare feet. He missed the warm comfort of the bed and Sherlock's presence already.
Reply
"Yes, alright." he consented, waving him off to take his boring shower as much as he wished he was still in bed with him. The urge to get up and pull him back into his arms was as strong as it was alarming, and it took considerable effort to remain in his bed.
When John left for his shower, he flopped back down on the bed, tugging a pillow to his face and breathing in the scent of that cologne he was so partial to. He sat up quickly just as soon as he realized was he was doing, shaking his head at himself and how strange his own behavior was becoming as this experiment went on. He went with his own standby of getting back to work, picking up his notes from the nightstand to scribble down the findings from last night.
He moved to the kitchen after that, putting the kettle on and making two mugs of tea, blinking in surprise when he noticed what he was doing, still unsettled by how his habits were altered since he started sleeping with John. He moved to the sitting room, placing what was to be John's mug on the coffee table as he took a seat on the sofa and sipped at his own, waiting for John to join him again.
Reply
Not wanting to linger on these confusing thoughts any longer, John turned off the shower and quickly dried himself off. He emerged from the bathroom wearing his morning dressing gown, and a small towel draped around his neck, which he used to towel his hair dry as he entered the sitting room. Noting the tea mug, he smiled at Sherlock and murmured a quiet 'thank you'. Breakfast, now tea... This really was most unusual, but John decided to appreciate it, rather than question it. He could always do that later. And he might have to. Grabbing his laptop, he sat down next to Sherlock, and started it up. "Let's see what London has to offer us today," he mused out loud, waiting for his desktop to load. "Any preferences? This is our day off, you have a say."
Reply
He glanced up when John returned, giving a short nod at his offered thanks. "It was nothing." he replied, tapping away at his mobile with an impassive expression. His eyes flicked over when John sat next to him, quashing a sudden and disconcerting urge to push John's laptop out of his lap and climb on top of him himself. He shook his head to get rid of that thought, making like it was an answer to his question as he pulled his legs to his chest and leaned his back against John's arm as he played with his phone. "Nothing as far as I can see." he groused, bored out of his skull by all the commonplace headlines he was reading. "Whatever you choose, just try not to make it too painfully boring." he replied, trying to get back to some semblance of normalcy by putting on his regular attitude and ignoring any sort of emotion he may have after sleeping for two nights next to John.
Reply
There was, of course, always the option of staying in, but that would most certainly bore Sherlock to death. John would spend the day on his laptop, reading the paper of watching crap telly. Not exactly exciting, that.
Reply
"It would depend on which museum. I'm not allowed at the science museum or the British museum as I've had...run-ins with the majority of the staff there. They don't take very well to having their facts checked." he harrumphed, certain that he should have gotten his own wing with all the times he corrected the guides and displays. "Art and theater are dull and pretentious." He did raise an eyebrow at the last two suggestions though. "Mm, now you're thinking." He rubbed his cheek slightly against John's shoulder as though congratulating him on a job well done.
"You're certain you want to exacerbate my habits of shooting up the walls and keeping body parts in the fridge?" he asked teasingly, glancing up to give him a considering look. "I do believe our sleeping together has made you soppy." he added, using the teasing as a test to see if John would admit to being affected at all by their experiment or if he should try even harder to do away with the strange feelings surfacing in him.
Reply
"I figured you would enjoy some kind of musical performance at the theater or opera house," John said, looking sideways and ending up with his face somewhat buried in dark, unruly curls. Gods, but the man smelled good. "Or is it an insult to your expert ear, maestro?" Not waiting for an answer, John looked up the website of the shooting range to check out today's opening hours. At Sherlock's question, however, he blinked, and thought about it for a moment. Soppy? Surely not? John was, after all, an exceptionally patient man, and he had gotten used to most of Sherlock's antics...
"Nonsense," he muttered, though the memory of them sleeping together still left him feeling warm on the inside. "You're not that cute," he added teasingly, bumping their shoulders together.
Reply
"No, I think I'd enjoy that." he replied, though he was also currently wondering whether or not he wanted to leave the flat at all. He was beginning to feel like he would have enjoyed just staying in bed as they were this morning, the way everything felt so warm and safe and comfortable so intensely appealing it was almost alarming. He accused John of being sentimental, but maybe he should be asking himself the same thing. Wanting to spend every moment pressed up against your flatmate was something to be alarmed about, wasn't it?
He was pulled out of his reverie when John answered him, smiling to himself at his reply. "I have it on good authority that I am. How else would I get all the favors and information that I do?" It certainly wasn't because of his winning personality. "Have you decided yet where you're dragging me off to?" he said, doing his best to sound entirely put off by it despite the fact that he was currently getting comfortable leaning against John again.
Another alarming thought hit him just then, that thought being that he didn't much care where they went just so long as John was with him. This experiment was certainly having some unintended effects, but then that was part of what made it so interesting. He only hoped his sudden proclivity for disregarding John's personal space more than necessary didn't end up putting him off somehow. He didn't seem to have much of a problem with it yet, anyway.
Reply
"There's a pianist playing Schubert at the Ciné Lumière... And Handel's Messiah is being performed at St. John Smith Square... Perhaps Verdi's Rigoletto at St. John's Notting Hill?"
Reply
"No opera. It's far too tedious and melodramatic and drags on for ages." he said, pulling his gaze from watching John's hands to the screen. "I suppose the pianist could be tolerable." he replied, though he still made no move to actually get up and get ready to go out. "When is it?" he asked, letting his eyes fall shut and feeling far too content and lazy to actually read the website in front of him.
Reply
Unusual as it was, John really was enjoying this. Sherlock was a difficult man to live with, despite the fact that John had gotten used to so many of his habits. Even his patience sometimes wore thin. But like this, resting on the sofa in the middle of the day (God, John hadn't even gotten dressed yet, he was still sitting in his dressing gown), with Sherlock leaning against him and no sound made expect the classical music that came from the laptop... John felt infinitely at peace and content.
Reply
A similar state of contentment to John's came over him as the music played, the soothing sounds of the melody and the appealing warmth of John making this all so very good. The need to continue his experiment with physical contact took over, making him inch a hand over to rest it over one of John's now that he was no longer occupied with the keyboard. He found himself unconsciously holding his breath, still waiting for the moment when he would push too far and cause John to pull away. He wasn't sure if this was allowed now that they were awake, and his always inquisitive mind had to know for sure just where the line was.
Reply
"We can stay in, you know," he continued, looking down at their hands. "We can find a more complete selection of Schubert's music to put on, or you can play the violin, do some more experiments in the kitchen, whatever you want. I can cook? Or help you gather more information for the sleeping experiment? I imagine you have some questions for me."
Reply
"Experiment." he murmured, the tingling warmth in his stomach only exacerbated when John's hand turned over in his, moving slowly to thread their fingers together as they had been this morning. He had said it was an experiment, but he couldn't help feeling that maybe he was ill somehow, like that could somehow explain away his want to stay close to John.
He smiled to himself at John's plan for the evening, his affection for him swelling at how he seemed to know exactly what to say. "That sounds agreeable to me." he replied, going quiet in contemplation for a long moment. "Is there anything I shouldn't do? I find myself...becoming partial to this." he indicated their clasped hands. "I don't want to make you reconsider our arrangement because I ended up pushing a boundary I didn't know was there."
Reply
He looked sideways again, his smile lingering. "And if you're growing partial to this, that's only a good thing in my book. Sentiment," he reminded him, "often enough it leads to displays of affection. It's normal, Sherlock. It's good."
Reply
Leave a comment