Baker Street Boys

15(ii)

*continue from previous chapter.

*Enjoy sweetheart :)

Chapter 2

John let out a small sigh, glad to finally be done with work and returning to 221B.

I hope Sherlock isn't there, he added as a side thought. His mind returned to thoughts of his earlier experience, and God he could not wait to be back in his flat.

He opened the door hastily, hands sweating in anticipation. He shut it quietly behind him, standing at the foot of the stairs, listening for any indication of movement.

Nope, he's not experimenting today, John acknowledged with what could best be described as a bit of disappointment mixed with relief.

He released a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding as walked up the stairs. He opened the flat door, walking in slowly. He saw Sherlock sitting on the couch, staring intently at something that looked like a mutated body part on the coffee table.

"John," Sherlock acknowledged, not changing his line of sight.

John gulped, quietly choking out, "Sher-ahem, Sherlock."

"John." His flatmate didn't move. "You're...uncomfortable," Sherlock's eyebrow raised.

John lightly blew through his lips. This was going to be tough. He lightly set his bag down on the counter, then crossed his arms nervously. "I've been thinking, Sherlock."

"An improvement," Sherlock lightly smiled.

John bit his lip. Even in the most serious of moments, Sherlock had to be a smart ass. "About yesterday," he added slowly, straining to get the words out.

After a moment's silence, Sherlock twisted his position toward John, "What have you been thinking, John?"

John looked down, tracing the lines in the floor with eyes. Looking at anything other than Sherlock. "I just-" he sighed, trying to find the words.

My hormones can only focus on you? How am I supposed to formulate this into a conversation?

He took another deep breath, closed his eyes tightly, then opened them slowly as he looked up, meeting Sherlock's eyes. "I have not stopped thinking about yesterday," he laughed lightly, trying to cover his forwardness.

Sherlock visibly perked up, an almost bemused smile flitting across his face.

"I mean," John tried to reformulate his thoughts, "I just-can you just not do that again?" His voiced cracked on "that"; his brain and mouth moving in two very, extremely different directions.

"It was for an experiment, John," Sherlock slowly explained, furrowing his brows.

"Well," John gulped, "I hope your results were successful, but, please, no more experiments for a while, okay?" John turned around to head to his room, hoping to escape this conversation as soon as humanly possible.

"For science," Sherlock uttered the two words softly.

John stopped, shaking his head. He turned around, voicing his thoughts, "What?"

"I said 'for science,'" Sherlock stood up from his place, sliding his hands into his pockets, taking a step toward John.

"I heard you, yes, but what did you mean?" It was now John's turn to raise his brow, not exactly sure about or comfortable with where this conversation was going.

"Yesterday, during my experiment, I said 'for science,'" Sherlock took a few more steps toward his flatmate, emphasising his last two words with his hands.

"Yep, I was, um, I heard that," John loosened his jumper collar, wondering why Mrs. Hudson had turned on the heater.

"I was reminding myself, John," Sherlock.

"Why would you need to do that?" John backed towards the wall, not liking this turn Sherlock was taking.

"Exactly, John, exactly!" Sherlock shouted, pulling on his magnificent black curls as he spun around. He laughed anxiously, tsking himself, tapping his foot. "Why would Sherlock Holmes need to remind himself that an experiment was for science? Do you know why?"

John shook his head nervously, watching anxiously as the gap between his flatmate and himself lessened.

"Because I was not thinking of science," Sherlock was standing right in front of John now.

John could feel the effects of their proximity working on his body. He was beginning to feel warmer and he was beginning to have strong recollections of the day's earlier events.

"I was not thinking of science, John," Sherlock's breath became ragged as his face neared John's.

John squirmed, pressing his face against the wall, knowing this position was not going to have anything but compromising effects on his body, especially his lower regions.

"I want to say, I want to believe that I got caught up in my experiment. God, do I want to convince myself of that."

John could feel Sherlock's breath on his skin. Every nerve sprung up, aching, needing to be touched. Every patch of skin screamed for attention. He reluctantly pushed himself harder against the wall, not wanting Sherlock to see what an effect he had on him, not wanting himself to believe it either.

"John," Sherlock breathed out shakily, "I was only thinking of you."