Re: Stolen Moments pt 25/?velvet_maceJanuary 8 2011, 21:59:37 UTC
When he arrived back at the flat, all seemed to have returned to normal with John. They had a decent conversation, went to dinner together to celebrate Sherlock's secret mission. But as the dinner progressed through the awkward everything-but-the-case discussion of Brussels, Sherlock began to detect a little discomfort in John's behavior. Lack of customary eye contact for one. A little blush that crept in when Sherlock reached out his hand to pat John's sleeve.
It was time for that conversation.
"You are uncomfortable around me, John," said Sherlock. "Why."
"Don't ask," was John's response.
"I have to, because you are important to me. Is there something wrong? Have I done something?" Does he remember?
"It has nothing to do with you Sherlock," said John and met his eye. Sherlock detected that it was only a partial lie. Galling. He far preferred it be fully one or the other.
"Does it have something to do with our accidental kiss two weeks ago?"
"Don't say that so loud!" hissed John, he looked about the restaurant as if anyone in the other tables cared about love life.
"It does have to do it!" said Sherlock. "But I thought we'd squared that away, John. I'm fine with it. I liked it. I wouldn't mind doing it again."
John did a double take. "You what?"
"Or not, if you'd prefer. I know you are heterosexual -"
"You what?" repeated John.
"I liked the kiss," said Sherlock. "I am gay you know. Is that your fear? That I'm going to hit on you, or molest you in your sleep -" it was as close to a confession as he could make it. Here is where, if Mycroft were right, John would reveal that the experiments had subconsciously bled through.
But John shook his head. "No, of course not," said John. "I know you'd never do that. I'm not a bigot."
Sherlock pressed his eyes closed for just a second before donning a poker face. "You're afraid that kiss lead me on?"
"No, I--"
"Some kind of affront to your sexual identification -?"
"Shut up, Sherlock and let me say something."
Sherlock snapped his mouth closed. This was maddening. Was Mycroft right or was it coincidence that caused John's behavior? He had to know. He hoped Mycroft was wrong, that he hadn't driven John away. Why couldn't he just spit it out, whatever it was?
But John didn't speak right away. Impatience pressed on Sherlock to speak up again, but he bit his tongue while John took his sweet time ruffling his hair and pulling his jumper. He was blushing furiously.
"Well?" Sherlock said before he could stop himself.
"I didn't know you were gay," John said softly. "And now that I do. I'm not sure what to think. I'm thrown."
"You didn't know I was gay?" said Sherlock. "How could you not? I hardly keep it a secret. The clothes. The utter lack of interest in women? Certainly you didn't think I was straight."
"Yes, I noticed you didn't seem interested in women, but you didn't seem interested in men, either. No data does not automatically mean 'gay' to me. You could just not be interested. At all."
"Ah. Well, now we've cleared that up," said Sherlock. "Is this a problem?"
John blinked. Then shook his head. "You being gay? No. Definitely no."
"You were afraid you'd foisted yourself on me," said Sherlock suddenly realizing. "Was that it? Two weeks of the silent treatment because you were worried that I was weirded out by it? I told you I wasn't." This couldn't be the whole story.
"It does seem a bit silly, I suppose." His eyes drifted down. Ah, there was more. "But no." Here it came. "What if I wanted more than a kiss?" His face turned darker. "What if I've been having a hard time keeping my hands off of you? What if I've been thinking about you in bed, damn near obsessively?"
Sherlock's eyes widened. Suddenly he had no words.
John continued: "You offered me that pity fuck and I turned you down. But since. I just keep thinking what would have happened if I said yes." John shook his head as if to rid himself of a thought. "But you seemed so relieved when I did turn you down that I know you don't actually want to sleep with me. But I still …" John shrugged. "I can't stop where my mind goes."
It was time for that conversation.
"You are uncomfortable around me, John," said Sherlock. "Why."
"Don't ask," was John's response.
"I have to, because you are important to me. Is there something wrong? Have I done something?" Does he remember?
"It has nothing to do with you Sherlock," said John and met his eye. Sherlock detected that it was only a partial lie. Galling. He far preferred it be fully one or the other.
"Does it have something to do with our accidental kiss two weeks ago?"
"Don't say that so loud!" hissed John, he looked about the restaurant as if anyone in the other tables cared about love life.
"It does have to do it!" said Sherlock. "But I thought we'd squared that away, John. I'm fine with it. I liked it. I wouldn't mind doing it again."
John did a double take. "You what?"
"Or not, if you'd prefer. I know you are heterosexual -"
"You what?" repeated John.
"I liked the kiss," said Sherlock. "I am gay you know. Is that your fear? That I'm going to hit on you, or molest you in your sleep -" it was as close to a confession as he could make it. Here is where, if Mycroft were right, John would reveal that the experiments had subconsciously bled through.
But John shook his head. "No, of course not," said John. "I know you'd never do that. I'm not a bigot."
Sherlock pressed his eyes closed for just a second before donning a poker face. "You're afraid that kiss lead me on?"
"No, I--"
"Some kind of affront to your sexual identification -?"
"Shut up, Sherlock and let me say something."
Sherlock snapped his mouth closed. This was maddening. Was Mycroft right or was it coincidence that caused John's behavior? He had to know. He hoped Mycroft was wrong, that he hadn't driven John away. Why couldn't he just spit it out, whatever it was?
But John didn't speak right away. Impatience pressed on Sherlock to speak up again, but he bit his tongue while John took his sweet time ruffling his hair and pulling his jumper. He was blushing furiously.
"Well?" Sherlock said before he could stop himself.
"I didn't know you were gay," John said softly. "And now that I do. I'm not sure what to think. I'm thrown."
"You didn't know I was gay?" said Sherlock. "How could you not? I hardly keep it a secret. The clothes. The utter lack of interest in women? Certainly you didn't think I was straight."
"Yes, I noticed you didn't seem interested in women, but you didn't seem interested in men, either. No data does not automatically mean 'gay' to me. You could just not be interested. At all."
"Ah. Well, now we've cleared that up," said Sherlock. "Is this a problem?"
John blinked. Then shook his head. "You being gay? No. Definitely no."
"You were afraid you'd foisted yourself on me," said Sherlock suddenly realizing. "Was that it? Two weeks of the silent treatment because you were worried that I was weirded out by it? I told you I wasn't." This couldn't be the whole story.
"It does seem a bit silly, I suppose." His eyes drifted down. Ah, there was more. "But no." Here it came. "What if I wanted more than a kiss?" His face turned darker. "What if I've been having a hard time keeping my hands off of you? What if I've been thinking about you in bed, damn near obsessively?"
Sherlock's eyes widened. Suddenly he had no words.
John continued: "You offered me that pity fuck and I turned you down. But since. I just keep thinking what would have happened if I said yes." John shook his head as if to rid himself of a thought. "But you seemed so relieved when I did turn you down that I know you don't actually want to sleep with me. But I still …" John shrugged. "I can't stop where my mind goes."
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