The Gay Is On (Johnlock)

Chapter 2

As soon as the sunlight streamed through his window, John awoke, his eyes being nearly swollen shut from what had happened just 5 hours ago.

John took a quick shower, trying to eliminate the bags under his eyes, and walked into the living room of the flat. He had on a dark blue jumper with dark pants.

He found Sherlock already up. Sherlock was sitting in his chair, his hands steepled under his nose and his eyes closed. This was something he only did when he was in deep thought.

John thought about saying a "good morning" to Sherlock, but decided against it. When Sherlock was like this, he could go hours without talking or moving at all. John walked quietly in the kitchen, where he made two cups of tea and put one on the table beside where Sherlock was sitting.

"Thank you," Sherlock mumbled.

"No problem." John replied.

Sherlock opened his eyes and gently picked up the cup of tea. John watched him for a bit, noticing that his eyes were quite bloodshot, and asked, "Get enough sleep last night?"

Sherlock flinched, but quickly regained his composure. "Very little," he admitted, his face showing no sign of emotion.

"Did you, um, have any more..?"

"No."

"Okay."

Sherlock nodded almost imperceptibly, and then mumbled something about a shower and walked to the bathroom. After a few minutes, the water turned on, leaving John in deep thought. What was the matter with Sherlock?

All of the sudden, it hit him.

'Sherlock knows the feelings I have for him,' John thought. He groaned and rubbed his face with his hands. Of course. Sherlock had been acting so weirdly because he wasn't familiar with emotions like love, and didn't want John to feel what he did. 'Sherlock could never feel the same way', John also thought with a slight pang of sadness.

Sherlock walked in, interrupting his thoughts. He was shirtless, with clean flannel pajama pants on his bottom half. John stared for a full second, his eyes taking in Sherlock's muscular torso. He then looked away quickly, trying to think of something to say before things became too awkward.

Thankfully, Sherlock was the first to speak. "You groaned earlier. Why?"

John had almost expected Sherlock to hear him, so he only had a bit of surprise on his face.

"Oh, I just..have a headache." He quickly responded.

Sherlock nodded, and walked back into the bathroom to put a shirt on. He then walked into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water.

To John's surprise, Sherlock crossed from to kitchen to his chair and handed him the glass of water along with a pain pill, for his "headache". As he gave him the pill, their hands brushed and John immediately felt a bolt of electricity shoot through his body, straight to his heart. He hoped Sherlock didn't notice the blush creeping up his cheeks, but what didn't Sherlock notice? John thanked Sherlock and quickly swallowed the pill. John did have an ache, but it wasn't in his head.

After watching John swallow the pill, Sherlock again steepled his hands under his nose and entered his mind palace. Right now, he only wanted to think of one thing: John. Sherlock knew that John didn't have a headache at all, but he didn't know why he lied. Sherlock wasn't angry with him, just curious. So, he had conducted a little experiment. As Sherlock gave John the pill, which was actually just a sugar pill, he noticed John's pupils start to dilate the closer he got to him. When he handed him the water, their hands touched, and John flinched ever so slightly and his breathing became slightly irregular. Now, the big question: What did this all mean? Sherlock began to imagine what would happen if his hopes were correct, if his blogger actually loved him back. But Sherlock quickly pushed the thought away, deeming it silly and impossible. John was definitely heterosexual, having went on many dates with many girls. Sherlock was more of Johnsexual. He didn't know how else to describe it. There was only one person in the world he'd ever been attracted to in a sexual manner, and that person was John.

Sherlock's phone vibrated, interrupting his thoughts. It was a text from Lestrade. He read it aloud so John would hear: "Unexplained murder. Right up your alley. Sending a car, be ready in 10 minutes."

John and Sherlock jumped up, excited to finally be in action again, and even better, with each other. Wit's an exchange of smiles, Sherlock went to get dressed, while John cleaned up the tea and grabbed his coat.

The car that Lestrade sent arrived as soon as John and Sherlock were out the door. They both climbed in, and off they went.

John was looking out the window, Sherlock saw, so this was the perfect time just to...observe him. Sherlock always did this, when he was sure John wasn't paying attention. Sherlock just liked looking at him. After all, he didn't get to at all for two years.

John knew Sherlock was looking at him. He felt it. He acted as if he didn't notice to please Sherlock, even though he didn't know why Sherlock liked to look at him in the first place.

Sherlock was looking at John when he suddenly turned around. Sherlock didn't try to pretend he wasn't staring at John, and looked into his eyes for just a moment. His eyes were so beautiful, the darkest of blues, the color of the ocean. John could always put on his tough soldier look but Sherlock could always see right through him.

Sherlock was thinking so deeply and lovingly about this that he didn't hear a word of the question John had asked him.

Sherlock shook his head slightly. "Sorry. I was...distracted. What did you say?"

John seemed surprisingly patient with Sherlock, and repeated his question, "Why did Lestrade send a car to pick us up? We usually manage to get wherever ourselves."

"I don't know," Sherlock said, "Unless he was bringing us somewhere that we wouldn't want to go."

John thought this was a joke, and chuckled, but Sherlock realized that he had been very true in what he said.

The car was pulling up to the one place neither Sherlock nor John ever wanted to see again.

St. Bartholomew's Hospital.