A Study of Lovers (Johnlock fanfic)

The (almost) Next Step

Hey guys! That last part wasn't really necessary, but it was just to fill you in a little. Thanks again guys!

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As they stepped back into 221B, John watched from behind as Sherlock gingerly climbed the stairs and couldn't help but have his thoughts be over taken by those strange feelings of something he couldn't understand. John studied his delicate yet sturdy frame like making one of Sherlock's deductions as they climbed the stairs in silence back up to their flat.

Sherlock removed his jacket and scarf and hung them up on the hook next to the door. John hasn't even noticed that he still had his on at the time when he stood there in awe and amazement of the great detective. Sherlock turned back around to John and find him still staring in awe as he smiled and John snapped out of his daze. As he went back to his experiment, John took off his jacket and placed it on the hook below Sherlock's coat and scarf. Wandering aimlessly in his thoughts and his mind, John came to the table and sat at his laptop; to work on his blog. But only to find that his fingers weren't able to type a single word, let alone a letter. He removed his hands from the keyboard and buried his face in his palms, then rest his head in his left palm; only to drift off and be awoken by Sherlock.

"How's about lunch John?" Sherlock's deep voice rang out in the empty flat as John was startled awake.

"Hmm?"

"Lunch, John. Didn't you hear me?" Sherlock still had his eyes fixed into the miroscope, switching out slides left and right, not even looking up from it for an answer.

"Yeah, um, yeah. That sounds quite alright to me." John noticed the time on his watch: 12:30. Did he really drift off for that long? He stretched as he got up from his seat and yawned, only for his attention be taken back to Sherlock who had removed his over coat and showing a white shirt, much like his purple shirt, that was way too tight around his torso.

As he grabbed his jacket and scarf, he noticed John staring at him once again; but with a worried look that plastered his whole face.

He had to tell him.

He had to tell Sherlock of his recurring thoughts about him and ask him if he felt the same in any way possible. After the looks he got from him that very same morning, he had to ask; just to see if there was anything there. If not, he would drop the whole thing and never think about it again.

His stomach twisted into knots and felt his whole body shake to where he could barely stand on his own two legs.

"Sherlock." He started. He turned towards John, still tying his scarf around his neck. His eyes shined even in the dim light of the flat as his cheekbones cast shadows upon his cheeks and his perfect bowed lips lay in a motionless line across his face. John drew a shaky breath from the air and started towards him, but panicked at the last minute; he couldn't do it.

He quickly turned slightly to the left and opened the door as he waved his hand to the direction of the stairwell.

"After you." John braved a small smile. Without another word, Sherlock left the flat and John breathed a sigh of relief, yet anger; he was so close.

He grabbed his jacket off the hook and trailed ofter Sherlock, leaving the thought of ever telling him back in the flat.

They hailed a cab and Sherlock gave the driver an address that John didn't recognize, only that it was nearly on the other side of London.

"Where are we going?" John asked as he watched the passing people and buildings out the window.

"You said you wanted lunch, we're going out to lunch." Sherlock looked directly at John as he turned his head and felt all the breath in his lungs just disappear. His eyes. Every color known to man stretched across his irises like the galaxy of a distant universe. John didn't dare turn away as neither decided to break the impromptu staring contest.

They felt the cab come to a slow halt at a stop sign as they broke the tension immidiately followed by both of them clearing their throats and turning the other direction to look out the window. As John looked down to study his shoes, out of the corner of his eye he saw Sherlock's gloved hand laying still, palm down on the seat in between them as he continued to watch out the window.

It's an experiment... John thought

John slowly slid his hand over to Sherlock's and grabbed his pinky ever so lightly with his. As Sherlock didn't even notice, John smiled to himself. He didn't know what it was or how he felt about it, but he knew it felt good; it felt right.