Sherlock enjoyed the companionable silence that stretched between them, still appreciating the warm presence of John and unwilling to let him go just yet. He frowned when John's stomach growled, knowing it was a precursor to his suggesting he get up. He squeezed him tighter and shook his head, not letting him up when he tried to move
( ... )
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
( ... )
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
( ... )
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
( ... )
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
( ... )
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
( ... )
"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
( ... )
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
( ... )
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
( ... )
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
( ... )
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
( ... )
"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."
"You know what I mean. I don't want to put you off enough that you'd want to call this off." he replied, John's gentle stroking of his hand keeping him calm and grounded as John was always so good for. "Alright."
He was disconcerted by the word 'sentiment', but John's saying it was good made him believe it. Was it really okay to want to this physical closeness with your flatmate? "It's good to want to be physically close with your best friend?" He paused, thinking it all over and still working towards understanding. "It feels more disconcerting than anything for me. I've never had the desire before for any kind of physical contact, but now it seems to be all I want to do." He frowned in confusion, not liking the fact that he just couldn't wrap his head around this. "Could I be ill?"
"I wouldn't say it's good... Unless said flatmate also wants it. I mean, we talked about this morning, didn't we? I want to help you out with this experiment, and myself in the process. And I will let you know if you are overstepping."
At Sherlock's last question, John reached out with his free hand to place it on the other's forehead. "You're not running a fever," he murmured, keeping his hand where it was as he looked at his flatmate. "Really, Sherlock, I think you're just starved for affection, and... Well, I like to think you trust me, so perhaps that makes these touches more bearable than usual for you? Perhaps you're simply coming to find that closeness can in fact be a positive sensation?"
Sherlock nodded distantly to John's words, put a bit at ease by the fact that John would let him know if he pushed too far. He let his eyes fall shut when John's hand found his forehead, enjoying the easy touches John gave him even though it was in the name of diagnostics.
"Perhaps." he murmured, leaning into his touch further and wishing to wrap himself up in these good feelings until he couldn't remember what his dark moods felt like. "I don't know how positive it can be when it's so unsettling." he groused, not enjoying the fact that it felt so difficult to express what it was he wanted. Normally it was so simple, but this was different in that he had no idea what else he wanted, only sure that he wanted something more. "You really don't mind?" he asked softly, marveling at the fact that he was allowed to lean against John and hold his hand like this and that he would actually want to. He liked this feeling of belonging, of just fitting in with John so well, both mentally and physically, he really couldn't bring himself to
( ... )
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"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.
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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."
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He was disconcerted by the word 'sentiment', but John's saying it was good made him believe it. Was it really okay to want to this physical closeness with your flatmate? "It's good to want to be physically close with your best friend?" He paused, thinking it all over and still working towards understanding. "It feels more disconcerting than anything for me. I've never had the desire before for any kind of physical contact, but now it seems to be all I want to do." He frowned in confusion, not liking the fact that he just couldn't wrap his head around this. "Could I be ill?"
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At Sherlock's last question, John reached out with his free hand to place it on the other's forehead. "You're not running a fever," he murmured, keeping his hand where it was as he looked at his flatmate. "Really, Sherlock, I think you're just starved for affection, and... Well, I like to think you trust me, so perhaps that makes these touches more bearable than usual for you? Perhaps you're simply coming to find that closeness can in fact be a positive sensation?"
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"Perhaps." he murmured, leaning into his touch further and wishing to wrap himself up in these good feelings until he couldn't remember what his dark moods felt like. "I don't know how positive it can be when it's so unsettling." he groused, not enjoying the fact that it felt so difficult to express what it was he wanted. Normally it was so simple, but this was different in that he had no idea what else he wanted, only sure that he wanted something more. "You really don't mind?" he asked softly, marveling at the fact that he was allowed to lean against John and hold his hand like this and that he would actually want to. He liked this feeling of belonging, of just fitting in with John so well, both mentally and physically, he really couldn't bring himself to ( ... )
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