(no subject)
Closed to dearjohnwatson
R 18+ (drug use, sex, violence)
Against any preconceived notions, Sherlock Holmes found himself quite happy in a stable relationship with his flatmate. He enjoyed every second of John's doting on him, and John seemed to appreciate the times when he would attempt romanticism in return. It was often simple things he did like making him tea or planning a meal out, but John lit up every time like Sherlock was brilliant at this too. He knew he wasn't, but it meant a lot that John liked to make him think so. He still was left wondering if John actually loved him or not, but he tried not to think much about it for fear of going mad with paranoia. Still, he was happy, and he was trying everything not to question it or do anything to ruin it.
It was made difficult though when John was away at the clinic for hours upon hours every day. He tried in vain every day to come up with some compelling reason for him to stay, but John never fell for it. He would give him a fond smile and a gentle kiss for the attempt, and Sherlock would be left trying to survive the day without him. Some days he could keep himself occupied with books or telly or the violin. Today, though, it seemed harder to focus on much of anything. He had tried to respect John's privacy a bit, despite the fact that he slept in his bed every night, he hadn't gone snooping through his things despite how one might assume he would. Today was different, because today his curiosity got the better of him.
He had a little bit of time before John got home, surely enough to find and go through his old military effects to his own satisfaction. He moved from his spot splayed out on the couch to go up to John's room, smiling softly at the bed he shared with John made up in perfect military order per usual. He had a fleeting notion to untuck the sheets and blankets on purpose, but thought it best not to draw attention to the fact that he'd been back in their room. It was their room by now, wasn't it? It wasn't such a terrible that he was curious about his flatmate-turned-lover's past, right? It was how he rationalized it anyway as he looked through John's closet and found a box tucked into the corner. He sat cross-legged on the floor and pulled off the lid, finding the dog tags and old uniform that he'd always wanted to examine. He picked up the box after a moment to take it down to the kitchen table to utilize the better lighting for a proper examination. He lost himself quite completely to looking through everything, ignoring the clock and anything else beyond the contents of the box.
R 18+ (drug use, sex, violence)
Against any preconceived notions, Sherlock Holmes found himself quite happy in a stable relationship with his flatmate. He enjoyed every second of John's doting on him, and John seemed to appreciate the times when he would attempt romanticism in return. It was often simple things he did like making him tea or planning a meal out, but John lit up every time like Sherlock was brilliant at this too. He knew he wasn't, but it meant a lot that John liked to make him think so. He still was left wondering if John actually loved him or not, but he tried not to think much about it for fear of going mad with paranoia. Still, he was happy, and he was trying everything not to question it or do anything to ruin it.
It was made difficult though when John was away at the clinic for hours upon hours every day. He tried in vain every day to come up with some compelling reason for him to stay, but John never fell for it. He would give him a fond smile and a gentle kiss for the attempt, and Sherlock would be left trying to survive the day without him. Some days he could keep himself occupied with books or telly or the violin. Today, though, it seemed harder to focus on much of anything. He had tried to respect John's privacy a bit, despite the fact that he slept in his bed every night, he hadn't gone snooping through his things despite how one might assume he would. Today was different, because today his curiosity got the better of him.
He had a little bit of time before John got home, surely enough to find and go through his old military effects to his own satisfaction. He moved from his spot splayed out on the couch to go up to John's room, smiling softly at the bed he shared with John made up in perfect military order per usual. He had a fleeting notion to untuck the sheets and blankets on purpose, but thought it best not to draw attention to the fact that he'd been back in their room. It was their room by now, wasn't it? It wasn't such a terrible that he was curious about his flatmate-turned-lover's past, right? It was how he rationalized it anyway as he looked through John's closet and found a box tucked into the corner. He sat cross-legged on the floor and pulled off the lid, finding the dog tags and old uniform that he'd always wanted to examine. He picked up the box after a moment to take it down to the kitchen table to utilize the better lighting for a proper examination. He lost himself quite completely to looking through everything, ignoring the clock and anything else beyond the contents of the box.