Data Doesn't Lie (Johnlock)

Chapter 5

JOHN

  It had been almost a week since Sherlock's return, and believe me when I say I was a mess. I couldn't concentrate, I woke up at ungodly hours in the night screaming bloody murder and dashing to find Sherlock, terrified that he wouldn't be there. He'd always be awake, sitting in his chair or lounging around on the couch, thinking. He'd look up at me, wild-eyed and breath heavy, and either say nothing or offer a faint greeting before going back to his original position. I could swear that sometimes when he glanced at me, there was something different in his eyes, a hint of emotion in those solid features before they were wiped back to a blank slate. I've seen it happen before, but it was never the look he gave me this time around. It was almost like flash of...concern? Sadness? Confusion? No it couldn't be, probably just a trick of the mind. Sherlock didn't have emotions, and for some reason, it kind of hurt me.

  I didn't know what was going on with me. I knew I should have been happy Sherlock was back, but I couldn't help but be agitated how he completely ignored the fact that he'd been dead three years as if it had done nothing to me, as if I hadn't been depressed or suicidal in his absence and nothing had happened. Today, I had decided to confront him about it.

  I shook my head, trying to clear my head of the horrible nightmare I'd had last night. Sherlock sat in his chair; legs crossed, eyes closed, hands steepled beneath his chin. he was asleep, not thinking. When he thought, his eyes shifted constantly under his lids, and sometimes his mouth twitched. He was perfectly still right now, his breathing prolonged and even. I didn't want to wake him, I knew he needed sleep, but I felt this was more important.

  I tapped Sherlock's shoulder lightly. "Sherlock? Wake up, mate. We need to talk." He awoke with a start, his shoulders jumping. His eyes scanned me drowsily, and I could tell immediately what he was deducting about me. He'd notice the dark circles beneath my eyes, the wrinkles in my clothes, the purposeful tone I forced into ny voice. It warmed me how well I could read him sometimes.

  "What is it, John," he said irritably. I took a deep breath, preparing my speech, and told him how I felt.

SHERLOCK

  John didn't look well, I noticed that immediately. I hid my concern, wanting first to hear what he had to say. He kept his eyes focused on mine, and I couldn't help but become entranced by their warm, earthly glow. Now wasn't exactly the time to fond over him, but I supposed that's what crushes can do to people. Typical.

  "Sherlock, you've been back for a week now." I couldn't help myself, interrupting, "Six days, 13 hours and 49 minutes, actually." John frowned, I shut my mouth.

  "Anyways, its just that...you act like it doesn't matter. Its almost like you don't care. I know you know what your...death, did to me. I was in pain, I wanted to die, and you act like it never happened." I was stung by his words, but I kept my composure. I could never say what I truly wanted to. I could never look my good doctor in the eye and tell him that I care about him, that I loved him and I wanted him so badly. I knew he would never accept it, John wasn't gay. Even if he was, he wouldn't want someone like me, that was a fact. Instead, I responded with my usual robotic voice, devoid of all the emotion building up behind my crumbling palace walls. Except now, it hurt to talk without feeling. I barely even heard myself speak.

"Of course I'm aware of that, John. I wasn't even supposed to be coming back until November, but here I am. Isn't that enough for your emotions?" John said nothing, but glared down at me like I'd insulted his ancestors.These blasted feelings were getting the better of me, as they had been for days now. The voice came, hissing like a venomous snake, poisoning my mind with doubt. Ohhh, now you've gone and done it, Sherlock. He hates you now, and I can't blame him. Look at how he glares at you. You've angered him. Such an idiot you are. I looked up at John expectantly, but he only sighed. "I understand you're not good with feelings and expression but...maybe you could try?" He sounded so tired, so upset, and his words made almost no sense to me. I knew I should have rose to comfort him, and perhaps he would be more awake if I had, but I had been afraid of him getting angrier ir storming out. I was starting to regret that decision already.

  He turned his head away, looking everwhere but me and releasing another heavy sigh. My mind raced terribly fast, searching for an answer before John became angry. What do normal people do to make the people they love happy?

  Something clicked in my head, and I focused my gaze on John's mouth absentmindedly. I could sense his feet shuffling uncomfortably, but once again I found myself unfocused. I was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him. His lips looked so warm and inviting.

  "John," I said softly, unable to keep the shakiness from my voice. He heard it. "Ye-" he started to say something, but I never got to hear it. Without thinking, without hesitating at all, I gripped his collar tightly, pulling him over the seat of the couch and pressing my lips firmly to his. All at once, my worries seemed to drain away. All recollection of where I was, all threatening images of doubt and fear drifted away until I knew only the feel of this kiss, the scent of my blogger and the swift pattern his mouth took against mine. The beast of emotions that had settled in my chest over the past few months purred in delight, finally achieving its goal.

JOHN

  Sherlock's eyes as he said my name told me everything I needed to know. Those round blue-green orbs filled to the brim with forestalled thoughts and feelings that had taken me so long to find out. Perhaps I'd been too straightforward with him, but I it wasn't that. His face was confused but his gaze was sure, his breath hitched and his pupils dilated. In less than a second I'd figured out that strange look he gave me right before he hid behind the barriers of his mind. It was desperation, longing...a strange sort of hunger.

  Before I knew it he'd dragged me over the couch and pulled me into a kiss. I stood perfectly still with shock and confusion, but soon something inside me told me to kiss him back you idiot. I closed my eyes, my lips moving in sync with his own, which were surprisingly warm and soft. I ran my tongue over his lip, drawing a low moan from the detective. I'd never expected this to happen, especially after all the denial and insistence that I was not gay. I smiled into the kiss, knowing that all that had changed.

  I never would have confessed it to my therapist, but I'd known deep down that I'd always wanted this. I'd admitted my love to his grave, but never to myself. It was clearer when he was "dead", but now that he was here with me, our lips locked together in sweet synchronization, I was sure of all the confusion and oddness he'd been showing.

  I loved Sherlock Holmes, and he loved me.

  Just as I'd made that realization, Sherlock broke the kiss. I growled at the loss of warmth, before seeing the panic flood his features. "Sherlock?" I said uncertainly. He shook his his head, his curls flopping messily about. "I-I'm so sorry, John. I should not have, I...I've got to go!" He stood from the sofa, rushing to grab his coat and scarf despite my protests and disappeared into the cold streets of London. "Sherlock...," I whispered, though he wasn't there to hear me. I collapsed into the sofa, running my hands through my short, sandy hair and over my face. I'd realized my feelings for him a long time ago, and he'd just proven his for me. So why did he run?

Eeek, dont hate me but there are more of these *whispers gravely* feels to come. Ill try to update asap, maybe even later today. Im feeling in a writey mood. Thanks so much for reading and I hope you guys enjoyed it! This is my first Johnlock so if it sucks im sorry. Id like your opinions tho! Teetee a fen, tata for now
~Shay