The Kissing Analysis

5

The detective woke up that morning, hung over and sore from last night. As he sat up, taking in his surroundings, he noticed soft breathing that didn't belong to him. He turned his head to the left and saw, in the corner of his room and asleep in a chair, John Watson.

He blinked at him processing his presence, before his heart swelled a little at last night's memories. And then he pinched himself.

Shut up.

He got out of bed, walking over to John and shaking him a little.

".. Hey, John,"

Watson mumbled sleepily against the palm of his hand, before inhaling quickly at remembering where he was in an instant. His eyes blinked over as he began to stretch.

"Sh.. Sherlock?" He yawned, and the groaned, hand flying to his neck.

"Ow... my neck is killing me-!"

Before John was even fully awake, the detective flung his arm around his comrade, hugging him lightly, before pulling away so he wouldn't feel tempted to linger.

"About.. about last night..." He coughed. John looked up at him expectantly, memories of the night before already beginning to brand themselves deep into his mind.

"Thank you... that.. that thing you did," Sherlock cleared his throat. "That was.. good..." He swallowed, and John blinked at him.

"I'm going to have some words with you, Mr. Sherlock Holmes." The blogger said, his voice low and stern.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and walked by him, going to his dresser to change. Without much thought, the lithe man flung his shirt off which caused John to flush at the presentation. Very intent on keeping the crippling amount of heterosexuality he had left in him, John turned his body and gave his flatmate some privacy to undress himself.

Sherlock spoke under his breath as his fingers lingered over his clothes. "Bloody hell, what a wasted opportunity." John flared at this comment and turned around, heterosexuality be damned.

"Wa-wasted opportunity?! If I hadn't bloody saved your arse, you would be-" John stopped himself as Sherlock stared at him, bare chest, shirt in hand.

"You would..." John lost his train of thought very briefly, swallowing, before he raved up his anger once more.

"Fuck, Sherlock you git, you idiot, I... I don't have words, I'm so pissed-how could you be so stupid! So-so bloody innocent!" He yelled. Sherlock flinched, pulling his shirt close to his chest.

"You could have been raped-Jesus, Sherlock." John breathed, pinching the skin between his eyebrows.

"Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, I cant-just-WHY?! What would you think would happen?! What were you looking for, someone to snog off? Hmm?! What were you expecting to happen when you went outside with that-that-that-Bloody fucker?!" John ranted, and Sherlock swallowed, each word making him feel smaller and smaller.

"God, don't you see that i care about you! That man could have done so many things-and you bloody don't get it! You could have lost so much last night-hell you could've lost your life if I had not thought about you at all! I could've assumed you went out on a case, but nooo, bloody Sherlock Holmes was at a bloody club, doing hell knows what, and so I had to check up on you!"

John panted, hands clenching and unclenching as he stared daggers at the younger man.

"So, please.. enlighten me..." John finished, just a bit out of breath, and clearly exhausted.

There was a long, quiet pause as Sherlock processed what Watson had said to him, before he calmly spoke.

"I was going to observe... how people kiss, and how an atmosphere affects emotions. Then the man at the bar put some hormonal drug in my drink, I bumped into... and he dragged me outside, and..."

Sherlock's voice cracked as realization dawned on him.

"I did it voluntarily... but John, I was drugged, and transport wasn't cooperating, and he started.... and it was so.... and-God I don't..." Sherlock was a blabbering mess as John stepped forward, reaching a hand out at noticing something.

"My body was betraying me, but I started to realize that it wasn't what I wanted, and I pushed him away but-" Sherlock froze, gasping as he felt fingers trace the bruise the man had left on his neck from last night.

"He.. he bloody..."

Sherlock swallowed, turning to look at John as the doctor jerked his hand away, hands once more clenching.

"Fucking animal..." John growled. Sherlock looked down at him, pleading for forgiveness or some understanding.

"Please, John I.... it wont happen again..." Sherlock mumbled. John sighed, resting his forehead on Sherlock's bare shoulder.

"What am I gonna do with you?" He mumbled, and Sherlock looked down at his hands.

"... make me tea?" He mumbled, and John lifted his forehead, smiling sadly up at his friend.

"Of course I'll make you tea, you twat." Sherlock bit back a grin, feeling the tense atmosphere settle back into normal.

"Thanks." The detective said, and that had meant to be the end of it, that was supposed to be when they took a step back, took a deep breath, and let each other fall back into a routine, a schedule on autopilot, but instead they held a gaze. John stared up at him in absolute wonder, seeming lost but also not, before he stepped forward seemingly without awareness, glancing at Sherlock's lips. As Sherlock began realizing what was happening, he began to turn his body slowly to face John, their eyes still holding onto one another.

Sherlock licked his lips, and subconsciously tilted his head a bit, John lifting his chin up, and his eyes began to slightly hood, heart beating wildly in his chest.

They were practically breathing in each other's air, slowly pressing together...

"Woohoo! Boys, I heard yelling and-"

Sherlock practically flung backwards, slamming into his dresser as he began pulling on his t shirt. Mrs. Hudson opened the door and caught sight of John, who had begun fixing his hair a bit, trying to make it look like-

oh.

"Oh! I.. I wasn't expecting you in here John-and.. Sherlock you're still in your pajamas, and-oh...."

She glanced between the boys, and Sherlock cleared his throat, before John flushed.

"W-wait Mrs. Hudson, it's not what you think it is, we were talking-" "Well you did sleep in my room John," Sherlock acknowledged, which made John flush, glaring at the subtle tug of Sherlock's lips. The fucker was smirking.

"Oh, you two... well, tea is ready, I'll just... toodles!" She smiled, before leaving the room. John sighed heavily, head bowing, arms slugging forward a bit. He cringed, relaying his embarrassment of the situation, wondering why he had even bothered to stay in Sherlock's room in the first place, and why had it felt so tense just now and...

Oh..

Just now. Just now, he had been thinking about-no.. planning ... to kiss bloody Sherlock Holmes.

John lifted his head to look up, and-what? What would he even say?

Sorry I almost kissed you, and thought about maybe snogging you senseless against the door...

But it didn't matter, because when John lifted his head and opened his mouth, the door connecting to Sherlock's bathroom shut.

The blogger sighed as he heard the water begin to run, and he rubbed his eyes, before stepping out of the detective's bedroom, heading into the kitchen to make breakfast.

What an emotional morning.