The More They Stay the Same [2/2]messageredactedAugust 14 2010, 18:53:56 UTC
iii. Sherlock doesn’t touch him
They don’t sleep together. Sex, yes, but even if John falls asleep with Sherlock at his side, he never wakes up to him there. Sherlock doesn’t brush against him when they move around the kitchen in the morning. They don’t sit on the couch together. They don’t kiss unless they’re in bed together, and even then it’s not something Sherlock will initiate.
It’s two days after their argument and Sherlock is in the middle of a case. He’s got vials of human blood and cleaning solvents all over the kitchen table and is hard at work trying to figure out which chemicals will make human blood in various stages of decomposition react in which particular way. He’s been at it for twelve hours now and shows absolutely no sign of stopping.
John has been going through papers in the living room, but now his eyes are blurry and his neck aches. He gets up and wanders into the kitchen to watch Sherlock peer through his microscope at a sample of blood.
“You’re distracting me,” Sherlock murmurs after a moment of silence, lifting his head.
“Am I thinking too loud for you?”
Sherlock turns his head and John kisses him, leaning down and cupping his chin. Sherlock returns the kiss but he keeps his eyes open, always observing.
When John draws back, Sherlock sits back in his chair and stretches.
“Come take a break,” John says.
Sherlock rolls his shoulders in his sockets and then leans forward again. “Could you shut the door when you leave?”
iv. Sherlock is condescending
“Oh,” Sherlock says, his eyes lighting up. “Oh, oh yes. Yes, yes.”
It’s always fascinating to see the epiphany hit Sherlock, animating his entire body. Sherlock spins from the body, nearly giddy.
“It’s so obvious. Don’t you see?” Sherlock asks him, his eyes sparkling. “Don’t you see it, John?”
John shakes his head mutely. Lestrade looks equally confused, standing on the other side of the body.
“Tell me, John. Tell me what you see.” Sherlock paces back to the far wall and then comes back, his eyes fixed on John.
John clears his throat. “He was stabbed, just like the other one.” He looks down at the body. “Hesitation marks, so the killer isn’t a professional.” He frowns. “The wounds are shallow, so the killer doesn’t have much…upper body strength…” He trails off as Sherlock throws his hands up in the air.
“How can you be so blind?” Sherlock exclaims. “All of you, how can you even function? I’m surprised you don’t step in front of a car when you’re walking down the street!”
John tightens his shoulders, glaring, but Sherlock doesn’t even seem to notice (or, more likely, doesn’t care). Lestrade sends John a sympathetic glance and John looks away.
v. John loves him anyway
When the case is finished, they order in and watch a movie together. Sherlock takes up the whole couch and John sits in an armchair.
At about midnight, Sherlock sits up and stretches, then gets to his feet. He stands there a moment, looking around the flat. John glances up at him.
“Tired?” John asks.
Sherlock says nothing, just holds out a hand. After a moment, John reaches up and takes it. Sherlock pulls him to his feet. When they kiss, Sherlock still keeps his eyes open, but this time when they part, Sherlock whispers “Not tired yet.”
They make it to John’s bedroom, undressing as they go, and when they fall into bed together, John can’t even remember why he was angry at Sherlock. Yes, the man’s manipulative and unappreciative and not the slightest bit affectionate, but when it comes down to it, that is the man that John fell in love with, and he wouldn’t change it for the world.
They don’t sleep together. Sex, yes, but even if John falls asleep with Sherlock at his side, he never wakes up to him there. Sherlock doesn’t brush against him when they move around the kitchen in the morning. They don’t sit on the couch together. They don’t kiss unless they’re in bed together, and even then it’s not something Sherlock will initiate.
It’s two days after their argument and Sherlock is in the middle of a case. He’s got vials of human blood and cleaning solvents all over the kitchen table and is hard at work trying to figure out which chemicals will make human blood in various stages of decomposition react in which particular way. He’s been at it for twelve hours now and shows absolutely no sign of stopping.
John has been going through papers in the living room, but now his eyes are blurry and his neck aches. He gets up and wanders into the kitchen to watch Sherlock peer through his microscope at a sample of blood.
“You’re distracting me,” Sherlock murmurs after a moment of silence, lifting his head.
“Am I thinking too loud for you?”
Sherlock turns his head and John kisses him, leaning down and cupping his chin. Sherlock returns the kiss but he keeps his eyes open, always observing.
When John draws back, Sherlock sits back in his chair and stretches.
“Come take a break,” John says.
Sherlock rolls his shoulders in his sockets and then leans forward again. “Could you shut the door when you leave?”
iv. Sherlock is condescending
“Oh,” Sherlock says, his eyes lighting up. “Oh, oh yes. Yes, yes.”
It’s always fascinating to see the epiphany hit Sherlock, animating his entire body. Sherlock spins from the body, nearly giddy.
“It’s so obvious. Don’t you see?” Sherlock asks him, his eyes sparkling. “Don’t you see it, John?”
John shakes his head mutely. Lestrade looks equally confused, standing on the other side of the body.
“Tell me, John. Tell me what you see.” Sherlock paces back to the far wall and then comes back, his eyes fixed on John.
John clears his throat. “He was stabbed, just like the other one.” He looks down at the body. “Hesitation marks, so the killer isn’t a professional.” He frowns. “The wounds are shallow, so the killer doesn’t have much…upper body strength…” He trails off as Sherlock throws his hands up in the air.
“How can you be so blind?” Sherlock exclaims. “All of you, how can you even function? I’m surprised you don’t step in front of a car when you’re walking down the street!”
John tightens his shoulders, glaring, but Sherlock doesn’t even seem to notice (or, more likely, doesn’t care). Lestrade sends John a sympathetic glance and John looks away.
v. John loves him anyway
When the case is finished, they order in and watch a movie together. Sherlock takes up the whole couch and John sits in an armchair.
At about midnight, Sherlock sits up and stretches, then gets to his feet. He stands there a moment, looking around the flat. John glances up at him.
“Tired?” John asks.
Sherlock says nothing, just holds out a hand. After a moment, John reaches up and takes it. Sherlock pulls him to his feet. When they kiss, Sherlock still keeps his eyes open, but this time when they part, Sherlock whispers “Not tired yet.”
They make it to John’s bedroom, undressing as they go, and when they fall into bed together, John can’t even remember why he was angry at Sherlock. Yes, the man’s manipulative and unappreciative and not the slightest bit affectionate, but when it comes down to it, that is the man that John fell in love with, and he wouldn’t change it for the world.
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This wass great. John loving Sherlock, and Sherlock being himself, but also so in love in the end <3
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