A Study in Boredom: A Johnlock Fanfiction

The Folder Part 2 and Fashion Advice.

I'm coming home- JW

Just as Sherlock was about to click on the folder, his phone buzzed and he hastily pressed the 'Read' button.

"Oh good." He sighed in relief. He wanted John home. He wasn't quite sure why, but he wanted his doctor, his blogger to be by his side (A/N: awww, ain't that cute?)

He shut John's laptop and tossed it onto the other couch. Sure, he was curious as to what that folder contained, but he'd deduced that it was really important to John, so he respected his privacy.

"What is WRONG with me?! OH GOD! Respect? Gifts? Compliments?? What have I turned int-oh."

Suddenly, the realisation hit Sherlock like a truck.

He had feelings for John.

"Oh, no. Oh no oh no oh no. This can't happen. This can NOT happen. He'll move away, then I'll be by myself. I'll be without John." Thoughts raced through his vast mind, important, rational ones, which were quickly replaced by what Sherlock had used to think were trivial thoughts.

'What if he doesn't like me back?'

'What if he /does/?'

"Yes, what if he did! We could be..." 'In a relationship', He finished in his mind. The concept seemed so foreign to him. He'd never even considered a relationship with anyone before. They were all so boring. He'd especially never considered one with another male, not that he really ever paid attention to his sexual preference, anyway.

But...

John was...different.

Sherlock wanted to find out if his feelings were reciprocated. No, he NEEDED to know. Now.

But he would have to be patient.

He glanced at the clock. It was about four-thirty. They could go out to dinner. He'd deduce him there. Yes. That was a good plan.

Sherlock went to his room to get changed, and suddenly in a panic he froze at his wardrobe.

"What the bloody hell do I wear?!" He needed an expert opinion, and as much as it pained him, he knew the best man for the job.

What does one wear when confessing their feelings? -SH

Oh? Finally admitting defeat, brother? -MH

Shut up, Mycroft. Just tell me. -SH

Wear your purple shirt of sex. He loves that shirt. Wear your black trousers. -MH

Purple shirt of WHAT? -SH

Sex. -MH

Elaborate. -SH

Have you not seen the comments on John's blog? -MH

Don't forget the fanfiction. -MH

Sherlock had no idea what the bloody hell Mycroft was talking about, but he opened the wardrobe and pulled out the purple shirt anyway. He untangled himself from his sheet which he was wearing and quickly dressed in the outfit Mycroft had suggested.

He crossed the room to his full-length mirror and appraised his reflection. His hair needed fixing-it was flat on one side and looked like a bird's nest on the other. He studied his face. What was it that may attract John to him, if possible. Sherlock hoped so badly it was.

He supposed the strange angles of his face could be considered appealing. He'd often brushed off compliments from silly girls about his cheekbones, remarking them as stupid flirtatious idiots.

He walked into the bathroom and wet his hair, using John's towel to dry it. There. Much better. He looked into the bathroom mirror. He supposed he looked good. He walked into the living room and grabbed his phone.

We're going out for dinner. Dress nicely. -SH

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A/N: I know it's short but I'm extremely tired. It's six in the morning and I have insomnia which explains why I update sometimes at three. It's because I don't sleep. You'll like the next chapter, though.

I know a couple of you have quite taken to the name 'minions' which is fine by me, but I don't want you to feel as if I am being condescending or rude by giving you a name that suggests dominance over you. I see us as equals.

Anyway, I got an email from a fan with some fantastic suggestions so I'll read over that again and see what I can do!

Bye, minions.

Red XX