A Case of Identity - Chapter ten (10/23)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 part one Chapter 15 part two Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23
John woke up early next morning, stretching his arms sleepily. His subconscious registered immediately that something was different, even before he opened his eyes. The space next to him was not only empty, it seemed that Sherlock had not slept there at all. The sheets were untouched. He brought himself into a sitting position, ruffling his hair automatically. Suddenly memories came back vividly and he wasn't sleepy anymore.
John remembered their nasty argument with shame. This time it had been entirely his fault. Well, maybe not entirely his fault, but one had to say to Sherlock's defence that he was skating on thin ice when it came to emotions. Victor Trevor wasn't to blame either. He was a nice man who happened to feel still something for Sherlock - he liked him at the very least. John couldn't blame him for that - as long as he kept his hands to himself. John still was partially in denial about the jealousy thing. Thinking about the two of them together however, he felt his stomach tightening immediately. It was simply childish. However he didn't know what to call it either. He couldn't imagine anyone getting off with Sherlock and taking his place in Baker Street. His heart instantaneously started spluttering hyperactively. He didn't know what to make of it.
The voice in his head kept arguing that deep down John knew that Victor Trevor only was the tip of the iceberg. The kitchen incident remained unmentioned and unresolved. The memory wasn't only unpleasant. The mere thought of it caused John to blush. He had a queasy that he tried to quash. Naturally that didn't work, and the voice in his head said, "I told you so." He told the voice to shut up.
He took a few deep breaths and gradually felt easier. John tried to persuade himself that all of it was due to the pressure of the case. With the case solved, the situation would soon calm.
When he went downstairs, he found Sherlock lying on the couch, his fingertips pressing against each other under his chin. The sight of him didn't help make the queasy feeling away.
"You didn't sleep upstairs," he said, just to say something.
"I fell asleep on the couch. Didn't want to wake you up," Sherlock replied without looking up. "I was thinking."
The doctor in him took over. "You can't sleep on the couch. It's not good. I don't mind being woken up."
"If you insist."
"I do," John replied and added, "You are thinking now." And I just invited him to my bed. Again.
"Yes. MacDonald called this morning for a case. It really was rather simple. I am wondering, where does the Yard get all the idiots?" Sherlock complained.
John watched him in disbelief. "It's six thirty in the morning and you've already solved a case?"
"While you were sleeping. I didn't even need to leave the house."
"Well," John replied, arching his brows. "Well done, I guess."
"I told you it was nothing. It was far below my capabilities," Sherlock explained, irritated.
Sulking detective, John mentally noted.
"Sorry to hear it was disappointing," John sighed purposely.
Sherlock pouted. "Are you making fun of me?"
John shook his head, chuckling. "No. You're great but you're … not exactly modest."
"Who cares about modest?" Sherlock tried to assume an air of importance but it looked rather funny.
John rolled his eyes in response, suppressing a smile. "Well, the Yard's got you, after all."
"That's right. They can count themselves lucky. Otherwise, every criminal in Great Britain would take advantage of them."
"Can't argue with that," John agreed willingly. First, it was true, and second, he didn't want to argue about Sherlock's, at times inflated, ego. He would lose anyway.
Sherlock watched John closely and sat up. "Are you feeling alright today?" he asked innocently, changing the subject.
"Err….Sherlock look," John continued nervously, "about yesterday. I really am very, very sorry for everything I said. I didn't mean it." He carefully did not look at him.
"You already apologized. No need to repeat yourself."
"I felt I needed to say it again."
"Forget it. You're forgiven." Sherlock waved John's interjection away. "Victor might have been flirting after all. I can hardly tell the difference."
"Just forget it, Sherlock. It's not his fault at all."
"Well, I will make it quite clear to him one way or the other that our relationship is…" Sherlock paused, giving John another meaningful look. "Exclusive," he added hesitantly.
"Uhm…. Exclusive. Good. Right." John managed somewhat perplexedly. He made the mistake of looking up. Somehow he wasn't learning from his mistakes. His heart was doing its dance again.
"Unless you want an open relationship, of course." Sherlock looked as though he was ill. "I mean we have to tell people something, in case someone asks."
"No," John replied, still looking confused. "Exclusive is fine…I think."
Were they really having this conversation? It was only hypothetical, of course, John told himself. It felt different, though. Like a vow. And forsaking all others…..He coughed to prevent himself from starting to giggle hysterically. He was definitely going mad.
Sherlock apparently was relieved to hear that. "Good. Another point. Did you speak to your sister about Christmas yesterday?" he asked quietly. He almost seemed shy.
"I thought I might stay at home this year, you know. Nice and quiet. After all, that is what people would expect us to do." All John could do was keep staring at him like an idiot, just as he did before. It was pathetic that he had such an influence on him, lately, but he couldn't help it.
"I'd like that," Sherlock admitted, giving a consenting smile.
"Unless you would rather be with your brother, of course," John continued, smiling back playfully.
Sherlock intensified his gaze. "When hell freezes over," Sherlock replied darkly, removing a curl of hair from of his face.
John was distracted by the movement for a moment, fighting the urge to reach out and touch the curly hair himself. He looked away and banished the thought from his mind before he could lose himself in Sherlock's features again, or worse, do something he might - or might not - regret afterwards.
"That's settled then," John stated. "By the way, you remembered the solar system, yesterday." John couldn't stifle a laugh. It eased the tension for a moment.
"Your fault," Sherlock responded, attempting to a serious espression, but failing altogether. He burst into a hearty laugh. "You always have to remind me about it."
"You're welcome," John answered impishly. "And thanks for honouring our bargain, Sherlock."
Sherlock's face was unreadable. "I hope you enjoyed yourself, John."
John nodded. "Yeah. You?"
"It could have been worse", Sherlock admitted tentatively. "It's fine as long as you are there."
An awkward silence fell.
Sherlock was the first to speak. "Would you care for a walk after breakfast? The streets are covered in snow. It's still calm outside."
"You hate peaceful," John commented, bewildered.
Sherlock shrugged. "I am currently investigating two cases. I can stand "peaceful" for the moment."
John wasn't so sure about the offer. Sherlock had not yet quite abandoned the flirting mode. On the other hand, John wasn't a coward. After all, practicing had been a part of the bargain. "Well, in that case … I'm coming."
After finishing breakfast, they were walked to Hyde Park. At first they had an animated conversation about the party. John, however, lost the thread of the conversation when Sherlock decided to take his hand again. Apparently, he wasn't letting him off the hook. The detective was holding John's hand in a firm grip as he had done the day before, caressing it again with his thumb. John's mind was captivated by the markedly mixed feelings he was experiencing. He tried to take his blank mind and the spreading warmth calmly. John half-heartedly accepted his trembling stomach without trying to read anything into it - just letting it be - for the time being. Meanwhile, Sherlock rattled on about cases and other things.
"John, are you listening to me?"
"Only with half of my brain," he replied honestly.
"That's rude!" Sherlock cried, pretending to be outraged by John's answer.
"Sorry, but it's not entirely my fault." John kept his gaze down.
"Whose is it then?" Sherlock asked, obviously puzzled by John's answer.
"Yours."
"Mine?"
"You're distracting me."
"Distracting you?"
"Yes, from listening to you."
"How would I do that?"
John didn't reply. He didn't need to. He could literally hear Sherlock think. When the message sank in, the corner of Sherlock's mouth twitched. John registered that he didn't remove his hand, but strengthened his grip instead, before continuing his monologue.
Smart move.
He wished he could deduce his friend the way Sherlock deduced him. He was doing it on purpose, John was sure of that. However, he remained in the dark about whether it was all a game to Sherlock or not. And if it wasn't a game, what was it then? And what was it to John?
To make matters worse, John couldn't deny that an overwhelming desire was awakening in his heart that was dreadful and wonderful at the same time. Most of all it was compelling. He felt a yearning to be near his friend which was simply mind-blowing - although he wouldn't admit that to his face. Was he really following this path - not only with a man but with Sherlock Holmes of all men?
The voice in his head told him that he did see this coming. A part of him secretly acknowledged that, another part was still in denial. This time, he didn't know how to respond.
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