|| ᴍᴜʟᴛɪ-ꜰᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ᴏɴᴇ-ꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ ||

|| ᴊᴏʜɴʟᴏᴄᴋ // ꜱʜᴇʀʟᴏᴄᴋ ||

Sherlock Holmes was perceived as an intellectual and unbelievably intelligent detective by the public, but the truth is, he was a huge baby. Only a few people in the world truly knew the extent of this, though. Sure, Molly and Lestrade knew about the episodes he very often had, or his grumpy and hissy attitudes that were all but rare, but really only Mycroft, Ms. Hudson, and John could say they knew Sherlock.

As a former ("former") drug abuser and an unbelievable narcissist, Sherlock was practically destined to be a raging bastard. But, oddly enough, the majority of the world just didn't see it.

Mycroft and Ms. Hudson found Sherlock annoying, usually. They loved him, sure, sure, but he was incredibly annoying. But that's to be expected from an older brother and a landlady, I guess. John though? .. He found it sort-of adorable in a weird way. Like, his entire life his family was kinda fucked up, and then he joined the army and that was that. Though true to his optimistic attitude, he'd stayed rather polite through his depression. That was all before he met Sherlock, though. Sherlock changed his life, for better or for worse? Who knows. His chaotic attitude was the life John had truthfully always wanted but felt it too immature to ever admit, and the episodes he experienced brought a sense of realness to him. It proved that Sherlock Holmes was human. It proved that he was vulnerable and complex, it proved that he could care. And while you'd never catch him admitting it, Sherlock had grown rather fond of John aswell. Because like any good sci-fi show will tell you, every other-worldly protagonist needs a companion capable of feeling. Feeling what exactly? This was the question, for sure. Feeling sympathy, pity, sadness, care, happiness, remorse, love, even? This was .. to be determined.

In the meantime, Sherlock, true to character, had decided that today he's going to accomplish something wonderful! .. That wonderful thing being contemplating life on the couch of his flat.

John walked in holding two coffees and a shopping bag to find him sulking. He smiled as he usually did upon seeing Sherlock, and went to put away the things. As he did, he began to question "So, what's wrong today?" He asked, in a familiar upbeat voice; Which, no matter how sad Sherlock appeared or how annoyed it seemed to make him, he would always melt in an instance at the sound of it. Still, a facade built by emotionless intelligence and vulnerable self-esteem was a tricky one to break, and so in a grumbling tone, Sherlock replied. "Boooored." John sighed, "You always seem to be." Sherlock rolled his eyes and threw his head over the arm of the couch. "Don't get smart, Im bored, I wanna do something!" He jumped up off the couch in an instant, and began pacing around it irritably. "Well, what do you want to do?" John asked, making his way over to Sherlock and handing him his coffee as he sat down. Sherlock subconsciously sat down beside him and began sipping it. "I wanna solve a case!" John rose both eyebrows and smiled while nodding instinctively. "Oh, is that so?" He asked, in the tone that a disinterested parent uses to ask about a child's day. Sherlock groaned, "Yes! That is so, John, very much so!" He jumped off the couch once more, and threw his surprisingly already empty coffee mug onto the seat behind him. "Okay, okay.  Why don't we go find you a case to solve?" John rolled his eyes and set down his mug, standing up and putting his coat on once more. Sherlock seemed genuinely surprised, because even though he knew that John would risk his life for Sherlock, he didn't truly think he'd jump to entertain him at the first mention of boredom. "Oh .. like, now? Really?" Sherlock asked, prompting John to tilt his head, and gesture while he asked why not. Sherlock ran a hand through his dark curls, and laughed. "I just didn't expect you to care so much." John opened the door and motioned for him to go ahead of him. "Mhm." He muttered, and closed the door behind them. 

Walking along the dark streets of London, illuminated only by street lights and neon signs, John asked Sherlock where they were going. "I don't know, just wanna solve something." He replied eagerly, prompting John to shrug and go along with it. Sherlock paused, and turned around to analyze John suspiciously. "Whaat are you doing?" John asked, Sherlock's extremely furrowed brow and the other one raised to the brim, he rubbed his chin instinctively. "There's something off about you. What is it? You're acting nicer than usual." John faked a scoff, but then laughed. "Nothing! I'm just in a good mood." Sherlock retracted his head away from John's personal space as he continued the interrogation. "Why?!" He was genuinely frustrated at this point trying to deduce what was up with his companion. "Fine, fine. I've come to realize that I fancy someone recently." He admitted, shamelessly, and Sherlock tilted his head. "It's not me, is it?" John laughed, and then shook his head. "Dear g-d no." Sherlock looked slightly offended, "Uh, Ouch?" John laughed once more, but Sherlock continued to press.

"Is it Molly?" 
"No."
"Lestrade?"
"What, no."
"Jessica?" 
"Who's Jessica?" 
"You're secretary?"
"That is not my secretary's name." 
"Whatever, is it your secretary?"
"No, it's not my secretary."

Sherlock was thinking hard now, "Is it my brother?" John scoffed, "Mycroft?!" Sherlock nodded. "No. I am not attracted to your brother, Sherlock." Shrugging, Sherlock explained, "Hey, I don't know what you're into!" John smiled, and uttered "You do, actually." under his breath, expecting it to go unnoticed. But alas, Sherlock miraculously heard it. "What do you mean?" John's eyes widened, "I just meant like .. I don't know." Sherlock began to laugh to himself a bit, "John, are you sure you don't fancy me?" John nodded, "Yes! Yes, I'm sure!" Sherlock cupped his ear, "Huh? What was that? All I'm hearing is yes, yes you do." John began yelling at him and Sherlock kept joking over it to the point where their conversation was incomprehensible without subtitles.

"I do not-"
"I love you Sherlock, ooo I'm Dr. John Watson and I-"
"Sherlock, no, I don't fancy you-"
"I fancy you lots, Sherlock"
"No-"

Eventually, they wore themselves out and were sitting on the curbside, joking with one another. Minutes had passed since they'd fallen quiet before it hit Sherlock. "Wait, John, do you actually fancy me?" John's face slightly filled with pigment, "I don't." Nudging him with his shoulder, Sherlock began laughing. "Oh, that's gold! Don't worry, Watson. I don't blame you, I'm pretty irresistible." John punched him in the arm at this point, and they both spent the rest of the night laughing any previous issues off their shoulders. Speaking of shoulders, passerbys thought it a weird sight, but were you to ask anyone the boys knew? It was sort-of adorable how they were so fond of one another that they could fall asleep over each other's shoulders at a stop-sign curb. If only those two idiots could figure it out, huh?