The Wolf, the Bat and the puppy.

Puppy love

~sherlock's pov~

I knock on the door and I hear the whimpering from the other side immediately cease. After a moment i hear rustling and presume my blogger is pulling himself together to look as though he wasn't just in tears on the floor.
"Who is it?" I hear him call, voice still wavering slightly from the fallen tears.

"Only me John." I state, a note of empathy I had never shown hinting in my voice. "I made some tea."

John hesitantly pull open the door and I attempt to pull on my best grin. My doctor smiles in return and takes the tray from my hands. I notice the small remains of a tear fall down the side of his face and sorrow fills my black heart.

"Whats this for then?" John asks quizzicaly, tilting his head to the right like a dog as he often does. I had previously noted that when he tilts his head to the right it means he is confused and when he tilts his head to the left it means he wants attention or effection. I had seen him do that to a few of the dates he brings round to the house but they never seem to catch on and presume he's curious.

"Sherlock!" He shouts, awakening me from my trance. I shake my head and look into the beautiful blue eyes of my companion.

"Yes?"
"Why did you bring me tea and biscuits?"

I froze. What was I supposed to say? 'Hey John. Sorry for giving you a panic attack, I thought you was a werewolf so I played a howling sound. Heres some tea to make up for it. Please dont punch my face!'
Idiot.

"W-well" I start to stutter as I lie on the spot. "I heared you cry so I wanted to make sure you were okay and you always make me tea when I'm upset so I thought it would work for you and-"

I'm cut off mid sentence by a soft hand on mine. I gaze once again into my help-mates beautiful cosmic eyes. They seem to glimmer in the gentle light of the full moon and reflect the pain in his past. They are sorrowful eyes filled with childlike wonder and a history of trauma. He is haunted by the ghosts of his past, I can tell. I feel a small, cold , droplett of salt water trickle down my icy cheek as I stare compassionately into the eyes of my secret love.

Whilst looking into his soul I hadn't noticed he had placed down the tray and brought both his hands to my cheeks, wiping away the tears I wept for him.

We stare a while before he pulls me towards him. He pulls my face meere inches from his own, evidently attempting to pull me to a kiss, then pauses and instead wraps his and round my back to pull me into an embrace. Had I had a pulse, it would be soaring and beating a thousand times a minuet. Yet I have to admit, I wish he hadn't changed his mind.

~John's pov~

I had caught my flatmate staring at me and I couldn't help but be hypnotized by his eyes aswell. In the moment he had looked at me, his eyes flickered a thousand different shades; gold, ocean blue, rose - pinky red- and (my favourite) a deep violet. Purple suited him well. I had grown to associate the colour of his eyes with his emotions. His eyes flashed gold when he was in awe, ocean blue when he was sad and rose when he was loving or careing. Yet his eyes had always flashed purple at some point when he looked at me. Ever since I shot the cabbie on our first case, his eyes glimmered the colour of his emotion and always settled on purple whenever he looked at me. It always draws me in and makes me feel special and loved. Its as thought he has a seperate colour just for me, like it was a seperate peice of his soul only I could hold the key to.

Before I can stop myself, I feel my body pull him towards me. I seem to have my hands placed on his face, caressing his cheekbones, and pulling our faces together. His nose is a few centimetres from mine and reality hits. I stop and wait, trying to locate my own intension. Why was I trying to kiss Sherlock Holmes? Why didn't he try to stop me? In my confusion, i release his face and pull him tight to my chest instead. I hear a silent groan of complaint come from the taller mans mouth as I pull his chest to mine.

Did he want me to kiss him?

It's at this moment, I notice he doesn't have much of a heartbeat. I'm fairly certain he does as he is evidently not dead but I don't feel and form of pulse or beat coming from his chest. I start to pull apart, concern growing, when I catch another glimps into his magical violet eyes. I can feel his icy hand move to the back of my neck and both our eyelids start to droop. He pulls himself down to me and we connect.

Electricity zapps thorough my body, psinting every crevice with shades of gold, rose and violet. It's everything I ever dreamt of and more. His cupids bow presses against my lips in soft, slow movement motivated by pure love. It's unlike any of the lustful or shallow kisses I have experienced in the past. This it real and beautiful all mine, just like him.

(3 chapters and finally a kiss yay! Sorry if it's wonky I wrote this at 11 on a thursday night. Any mistakes feel free to point out and I'm open for any questions, queeries or qualms, just comment and I'll probably reply.😁)