JOHNLOCKed in a Closet

A Study in Scarlett Witches

A/N: Yes, yes this title is a Marvel reference. And yes, yes I do love her. Also yes, sir Arthur Conan Doyle reference as well...
But anyways I am not entirely happy with this chapter, so please gimme some feedback for improvement.
Hope you enjoy - turtely 🐢
(I am so sorry I couldn't find a picture in better quality. And I needed exactly this one... I totally didn't watch S1E3 on Netflix to screenshot this, but then it turned out, the screenshots are black. Oh well, just typical me moments... anyways. Point is: IAMSAWWY)

John has arrived back at Baker's Street and was pacing up and down the living room. Minutes before he has opened the fridge at least five times to see if there was anything edible in there to soothe his emerging panic, only to find three pairs of eyes looking back at him.

Truth was he had no fucking idea how to be... romantically involved with... men. Well, Sherlock in particular. How do you get romantically involved with a sociopath? Is that a thing anyways? Was Sherlock gonna understand his intention? What if he rejected him?

The whole way back he had thought about his next step but he was lost. Should he flirt? Tell him about his feelings? Just go straight for it? Ha, probably more gay for it. Or bi... whatever. His thoughts were trailing off... HOOOOOWWWW should he approach the situation?

John groaned loudly in pure frustration with his desultoriness.

Suddenly he heard a thin voice at the door: "John, are you alright?".

It was Mrs. Hudson. She clearly heard him freaking out from her own flat. She held a tray with a cinnamon bun and tea in her hands.

"Mrs. Hudson. Yes, of course I am alright. What makes you think otherwise?"

"John, my dear, I may be old but I can still hear it when someone's stomping around like a mad man in the apartment above me."

Awkwardly John took in a straighter pose and looked right into her eyes. She smiled a little and then walked into the kitchen.

John followed: "Mrs. Hudson, I apologize. I just don't feel quite like myself lately."

Together they sat down at the kitchen table and Mrs. Hudson poured them some tea.

"Oh John, why is that?", with a gesture she invited John to sit down and drink the tea with her.

John didn't feel like sitting down – he was too nervous. But he did it anyways, so he wouldn't give away his feelings this easily. "It's... well... I am having a little... crisis. I suppose...".

For a second John thought he saw a knowing look on Mrs. Hudson's face but then it changed into a seemingly clueless and worried look: "What is bothering you, John, darling?"

But John started shaking his head: "Nothing, nothing. Really." He grabbed the cinnamon bun - "It's nothing at all." - and bit off half of it.

Mrs. Hudson waited quietly, while John was busy munching his pastry. Her facial expression made John nervous. She seemed to know something, which he didn't. When he has swallowed his giant bite, he looked around nervously.

Suddenly there was movement on the other side of the table. "Well, if there 'is nothing at all bothering you, really', I'll go downstairs and bring out the garbage.", Mrs. Hudson said while already walking to the door. She sounded like she actually wanted to bring out 'that garbage coming out of John Watson's mouth'.

"Wait. Mrs. Hudson, actually..."

"Yes, dear?"

"May I ask you something?"