On the Second Day of Sherlockmas... "Realizing", a gift for mildred-bobbin
Title: Realizing
A gift for: mildred_bobbin
Characters/Pairing: Sherlock/John
Category: Slash
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: Sherlock follows John to a get together and gate-crashes.
Author's Notes: Thank you to W for the beta!
The door slammed closed with a bang that seemed to resound within Sherlock's head. He frowned. How could it do that? It wasn't actually possible, scientifically, but he could have sworn that the slam had indeed echoed within his head.
"Bit not good," John ground out, eyes flashing.
Maybe John would know? No, focus. Sherlock lifted his chin. "I fail to see how any of that was a bit not good."
John blinked, disbelief written across his face. "You fail to see?" John raised a hand, finger pointing out the door. "What part of the...destruction downstairs do you not see?"
Well, it was true that people did not react well to the truth, but Sherlock was not responsible for their reactions. He raised an eyebrow. "Why are you angry at me?"
"Why?" John chuckled darkly. "Sherlock, you turn up unannounced to a party that is invitation only, embarrass Will by telling everyone in the area that he has an STD--in front of his wife, no less! That's their private business. You told everyone about Peter's marriage and baby--both of which no one knew. That was his to announce, not your cold impersonal judgement on how poorly he's doing. And then you oh so innocently reveal that Heather is sleeping with five of them and not telling them."
Sherlock clasped his hands behind his back. "And?"
"And? Sherlock, just because you know something does not mean you must announce it to everyone!"
Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "That's what I do, John. Always. You've never been this angry before."
"Because you never did it like this!" John argued hotly.
"Oh, I see. It's only convenient when you wish it to be."
John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You may be a brilliant detective and I may be awed by it, but when you hurt the people I care about--"
"You don't." Sherlock bit his tongue. Shouldn't have said that.
John breathed in harshly through his nose. "I told you not to follow me. I've told you for the last three weeks. And you knew that the bar was closed to us. How you snuck in, I don't want to know. But you still followed me and gate-crashed. And then proceeded to ruin a lovely evening. No." He interrupted Sherlock's statement before it could begin. "Just because there were secrets does not mean that we would not have enjoyed it."
Sherlock's mind was rushing fast, trying to figure out how to fix this.
John rubbed his face and sighed. "Just...why?"
Solutions and reactions and situations faded to the background. Sherlock tilted his head. "What?"
"Why did you follow me?" John's eyes were almost deadly in how they bore into Sherlock. His entire body was rigid, spoiling for a fight. If it hadn't been for Sherlock, needing to separate the source of the fire from the fire itself, John would have been in the bar with his fellows fighting.
Sherlock resisted his body's urge to fidget, look away, anything. He held himself taut, refusing to give in to either his emotional urges or John's. Why had he followed? Because there were no cases. Because the skull wouldn't make tea. Because John was going to be gone too long. He said nothing. He didn't have to explain himself. Did he?
John nodded. "Nothing? Not even a little insight into that mad brain of yours?"
Sherlock lifted his chin. "Why does it matter? I did and now your evening is ruined. It's over and done, yes?"
John clenched his fists. "Tell me."
From the harsh lines, Sherlock knew if he didn't, it was going to be a very long year ahead of them. At least if Sherlock tried to explain, John might drop it by June. "There was no one to make tea."
"No one--" John swallowed hard. "No one to make the damn tea? Sherlock!"
Sherlock sniffed. Didn't that say everything, really?
"Please tell me that isn't code for--I don't know. No one to shout abuse at or something?"
How did John not know? "Because you were going to be gone all week, John. What else do you need to know?"
Something cleared in John's face, but it was still a mix of emotions that Sherlock was sifting through. John shook his head, fondly though, this time. "You mad man. You couldn't wait a whole week?"
Sherlock wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Of course not. As I said--"
John held up his hand. "I get it, Sherlock. I do." He turned to his luggage and began looking through it. Likely for his night things. Sherlock watched, off kilter. What had just happened?
~~~
"You continue to confuse me," Sherlock said later. He was perched on the end of the bed, sans coat. John had just finished up a call with one of his friends from the party.
"Hm?" John asked, distracted. He was looking at his phone. Text.
"Relationships of any sort I can easily determine," Sherlock said. "However, with you, I find it--difficult."
John typed out a reply and finally looked at Sherlock. "Outside point of view."
Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows, thinking. "What?"
John half smiled and turned down the sheet. "It's easy to deduce a relationship from the outside because you're not involved personally. When you are part of the relationship, though, you have to fight your own perceptions and ideas and feelings in order to see properly. It's why communication is important." The lamp on his side was turned off and John settled back into the pillows. Yet he didn't look ready for sleep.
"My emotions--"
John sighed and put his hand over Sherlock's. Instantly, a tingle went up Sherlock's arm. Pleasant and almost invigorating. He turned his hand over so he was now palm to palm with John. Every day there were new things to think about and file away. John was a constant source of information. Their friendship was constantly challenging Sherlock's own ideas of himself.
Oh.
Sherlock swallowed hard. "I see."
"Always easy to see in, but not so much when you are in," John said.
Sherlock hummed and lay down next to John. John rolled onto his side, but Sherlock kept a firm grip on John's hand, not wanting to lose the contact. Interesting.
"Daft sod," John whispered. "Doesn't even know when he's in love."
Love? "You wouldn't tolerate someone acting like that without--"
John smiled fondly. "Feeling the same, yes."
Sherlock frowned. "I knew there was a reason I disliked friendships and relationships--there is no logic to it."
"Because emotions aren't logical, Sherlock," John explained. "It's chemistry and biology and in the human body, there is no rhyme or reason for why we fall in love or like our friends. We just do."
Sherlock wondered if he could shut that part of himself off completely. But as John shifted closer, warmth and smells and touching Sherlock, Sherlock decided that he needed to know more before he could stop this flood of emotions and physical reactions.
"Okay?" John asked when they were pressed together, John's head beneath Sherlock's.
Yes, it actually was. Something was flooding his body, but it was pleasant. "Yes."
"Good. I'm going to sleep now. Try not to shift too much as you work through this, yeah?"
Sherlock let go of John's hand and boldly moved his arm so he was essentially hugging John. He smiled. "Goodnight, John."
"'Night, Sherlock."
A gift for: mildred_bobbin
Characters/Pairing: Sherlock/John
Category: Slash
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: Sherlock follows John to a get together and gate-crashes.
Author's Notes: Thank you to W for the beta!
The door slammed closed with a bang that seemed to resound within Sherlock's head. He frowned. How could it do that? It wasn't actually possible, scientifically, but he could have sworn that the slam had indeed echoed within his head.
"Bit not good," John ground out, eyes flashing.
Maybe John would know? No, focus. Sherlock lifted his chin. "I fail to see how any of that was a bit not good."
John blinked, disbelief written across his face. "You fail to see?" John raised a hand, finger pointing out the door. "What part of the...destruction downstairs do you not see?"
Well, it was true that people did not react well to the truth, but Sherlock was not responsible for their reactions. He raised an eyebrow. "Why are you angry at me?"
"Why?" John chuckled darkly. "Sherlock, you turn up unannounced to a party that is invitation only, embarrass Will by telling everyone in the area that he has an STD--in front of his wife, no less! That's their private business. You told everyone about Peter's marriage and baby--both of which no one knew. That was his to announce, not your cold impersonal judgement on how poorly he's doing. And then you oh so innocently reveal that Heather is sleeping with five of them and not telling them."
Sherlock clasped his hands behind his back. "And?"
"And? Sherlock, just because you know something does not mean you must announce it to everyone!"
Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "That's what I do, John. Always. You've never been this angry before."
"Because you never did it like this!" John argued hotly.
"Oh, I see. It's only convenient when you wish it to be."
John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You may be a brilliant detective and I may be awed by it, but when you hurt the people I care about--"
"You don't." Sherlock bit his tongue. Shouldn't have said that.
John breathed in harshly through his nose. "I told you not to follow me. I've told you for the last three weeks. And you knew that the bar was closed to us. How you snuck in, I don't want to know. But you still followed me and gate-crashed. And then proceeded to ruin a lovely evening. No." He interrupted Sherlock's statement before it could begin. "Just because there were secrets does not mean that we would not have enjoyed it."
Sherlock's mind was rushing fast, trying to figure out how to fix this.
John rubbed his face and sighed. "Just...why?"
Solutions and reactions and situations faded to the background. Sherlock tilted his head. "What?"
"Why did you follow me?" John's eyes were almost deadly in how they bore into Sherlock. His entire body was rigid, spoiling for a fight. If it hadn't been for Sherlock, needing to separate the source of the fire from the fire itself, John would have been in the bar with his fellows fighting.
Sherlock resisted his body's urge to fidget, look away, anything. He held himself taut, refusing to give in to either his emotional urges or John's. Why had he followed? Because there were no cases. Because the skull wouldn't make tea. Because John was going to be gone too long. He said nothing. He didn't have to explain himself. Did he?
John nodded. "Nothing? Not even a little insight into that mad brain of yours?"
Sherlock lifted his chin. "Why does it matter? I did and now your evening is ruined. It's over and done, yes?"
John clenched his fists. "Tell me."
From the harsh lines, Sherlock knew if he didn't, it was going to be a very long year ahead of them. At least if Sherlock tried to explain, John might drop it by June. "There was no one to make tea."
"No one--" John swallowed hard. "No one to make the damn tea? Sherlock!"
Sherlock sniffed. Didn't that say everything, really?
"Please tell me that isn't code for--I don't know. No one to shout abuse at or something?"
How did John not know? "Because you were going to be gone all week, John. What else do you need to know?"
Something cleared in John's face, but it was still a mix of emotions that Sherlock was sifting through. John shook his head, fondly though, this time. "You mad man. You couldn't wait a whole week?"
Sherlock wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Of course not. As I said--"
John held up his hand. "I get it, Sherlock. I do." He turned to his luggage and began looking through it. Likely for his night things. Sherlock watched, off kilter. What had just happened?
~~~
"You continue to confuse me," Sherlock said later. He was perched on the end of the bed, sans coat. John had just finished up a call with one of his friends from the party.
"Hm?" John asked, distracted. He was looking at his phone. Text.
"Relationships of any sort I can easily determine," Sherlock said. "However, with you, I find it--difficult."
John typed out a reply and finally looked at Sherlock. "Outside point of view."
Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows, thinking. "What?"
John half smiled and turned down the sheet. "It's easy to deduce a relationship from the outside because you're not involved personally. When you are part of the relationship, though, you have to fight your own perceptions and ideas and feelings in order to see properly. It's why communication is important." The lamp on his side was turned off and John settled back into the pillows. Yet he didn't look ready for sleep.
"My emotions--"
John sighed and put his hand over Sherlock's. Instantly, a tingle went up Sherlock's arm. Pleasant and almost invigorating. He turned his hand over so he was now palm to palm with John. Every day there were new things to think about and file away. John was a constant source of information. Their friendship was constantly challenging Sherlock's own ideas of himself.
Oh.
Sherlock swallowed hard. "I see."
"Always easy to see in, but not so much when you are in," John said.
Sherlock hummed and lay down next to John. John rolled onto his side, but Sherlock kept a firm grip on John's hand, not wanting to lose the contact. Interesting.
"Daft sod," John whispered. "Doesn't even know when he's in love."
Love? "You wouldn't tolerate someone acting like that without--"
John smiled fondly. "Feeling the same, yes."
Sherlock frowned. "I knew there was a reason I disliked friendships and relationships--there is no logic to it."
"Because emotions aren't logical, Sherlock," John explained. "It's chemistry and biology and in the human body, there is no rhyme or reason for why we fall in love or like our friends. We just do."
Sherlock wondered if he could shut that part of himself off completely. But as John shifted closer, warmth and smells and touching Sherlock, Sherlock decided that he needed to know more before he could stop this flood of emotions and physical reactions.
"Okay?" John asked when they were pressed together, John's head beneath Sherlock's.
Yes, it actually was. Something was flooding his body, but it was pleasant. "Yes."
"Good. I'm going to sleep now. Try not to shift too much as you work through this, yeah?"
Sherlock let go of John's hand and boldly moved his arm so he was essentially hugging John. He smiled. "Goodnight, John."
"'Night, Sherlock."