Discovered (Johnlock Fanfiction)

Chapter Eleven

John and I walked through the corridors of the hospital, arms supporting each other as we went. The whole time was spent joking around, making fun of various co-workers and Mycroft. After getting lost once or twice, we finally found the courtyard, giggling uncontrollably.

"No, no no, wait I've got the funniest one," John said. He had to pause for a moment, collecting himself enough to finish telling his scenario as I opened the door for him. "What if Anderson and Donnovan went into the Yard for one of their shag sessions, and they walked in on Mycroft and Lestrade already shagging!" This caused the biggest fit of cackling yet, from both of us. We laughed so loudly that even when we were both outside a nurse walked up to the door and rapped on the glass, motioning for us to be quiet. John waved a quick apology, ceasing his laughter but unsuccessfully trying to take the grin off of his face. I stopped laughing as well, with much difficulty, but as soon as I locked eyes with John, we both burst out laughing again, this time forcefully hushed. We calmed down, but never dropped the gaze as we walked toward the center of the courtyard.

"You know John," I said softly, keeping my eyes on his. "This is very...nice. I know that the circumstances don't reflect it, but I really do appreciate you coming out here with me, and this light conversation is very pleasant, a-"

John hushed me as we reached a grassy patch on the ground. Luckily there hasn't been rain recently, so the ground wasn't wet. "Sherlock," he assured me. With a grunt, he lowered himself to the ground, using my arm for support as he placed himself down. He layed back gingerly, one hand on his side, and my arms followed him, making sure he didn't hurt himself. Once properly situated, he continued, myself moving to sit down next to him. "Don't worry. It's okay, I'm also having quite a lovely time." He chuckled lightly and placed a hand on my arm, now sitting down right next to his flat form. I lowered my gaze, embarrassingly bashful, but soon looked back at him. However, he was not returning the look this time. His eyes stared up at the sky, in blissful wonder. They searched around lazily, attempting to see every single star that there was to see. I myself moved my eyes up to gaze at the sea of stars, but for some reason they weren't as interesting as what was right in front of me. I returned my eyes to John's, and found that his eyes were a brilliant blue against the shining night sky. I looked for a long time, and I knew that he was aware of it, because his smile grew a bit every time he looked toward my general direction. This made my smile grow in return.

All of this, the joking, the laughing, the stars, they were just so... alien. Everything about the situation was so overwhelmingly foreign I was absolutely dumbfounded as to what I'm supposed to do. What even was this? Was it a friendly gesture? Or love? For the first time in a very long time, I believed that my emotions were truly stumping me.

"John," I whispered quietly. He brought his gaze down to meet mine as he sat his body up gingerly. For some reason, I felt a shudder run through me in the warm night when he looked at me. His stare wasn't negative at all; it looked... longing. It looked like he wanted something. Like he needed something. I felt a strange warmth caress me as I took in his eyes, and I suddenly felt the need to do everything I could in order to get him what he needed.

"Yes?" John whispered back. There was no smile, but he didn't need one. The glint of wonder in his eyes was unmistakable, and he was perked up, waiting for me to answer.

"I don't understand this, this feeling in me. I can't figure out what you're feeling, and that's not normal. However, I know I'm happy. This here is making me happy..." My voice faded, and I looked at the man next to me. His face was all I wanted to focus on. I let go of the small details of the things around me and shifted everything to John. I moved my face slightly closer to get a better view. John did the same. We were only a forearm apart, but it didn't feel close enough. We kept sliding toward each other until I could feel his breath brush my mouth, just as mine did to him. We were so close to each other, and I knew what this was. This was a kiss. One of us had to move just a centimetre closer and our lips would connect.

With a wave of understanding, I knew. I knew what this was, I knew how John felt. I knew exactly what he wanted, and what he needed. I knew that John Watson was in love with me, and I knew that I was in love with John Watson. I knew that I needed to kiss John at that moment before I could do anything else.

Following my instincts, I moved my face forward and touched my lips to his, my eyes shutting blissfully. My hand lifted to John's cheek, my thumb stroking him gently. Our movements synchronized as the kiss deepened, causing both of us to sigh with pleasure. I remembered from the last time we kissed when John put his tongue in my mouth. At the time that was quite confusing, but I let him do it because I knew he wanted to. Now it was my turn. I remembered the basic things John did: slight brush of the tongue against my lips, slow movements, not staying in one place for too long. I did my best to copy, and it seemed to evoke a pleasant reaction from John, so I continued. I understood why John did it; I could taste the inside of his mouth, the unmistakeable taste of John Watson that fit him perfectly and that I would not soon forget. I loved it. I loved him.

I knew that telling him that I love him, even if he knew it already, had much more psychological meaning than one would logically assume, but I never before understood. This craving, this need to let him know how much I love him, was almost unbearable. The only thing that kept me right was him and our locked lips. I wondered when the best time to tell him was. I could've broken the kiss... but I didn't think either of us wanted that. No, I would wait. After we were out of the hospital. I would take him to the flat, maybe clean up the place a little. I thought he would like that.

I continued my train of thought, planning out details for when we got back home, all the while trying to note every single little detail about this exact moment to put in my mind palace. My hand in the grass was starting to ache from supporting myself, my leg was beginning to fall asleep from sitting on it, and my side poked at the back of my mind with its dull ache. Yet, I couldn't wish to move any less. If I could stay like this for the rest of my life, feeling his fingers gently brushing my hair and his soft lips caressing my own, I would endure any pain. This was perfect, and he was too.

I wanted to look at him. I appreciated kissing him, and I loved how it made me feel, but I wanted to look into his eyes, I wanted to know that he was feeling the same way I was. I mustered all of my strength and lightly pushed away, separating our faces just enough to where I could see his eyes, his whole face.

John Watson was handsome. It was impossible to emphasize this enough. His eyes were completely brown, and I could barely see the blue in them at all. The change in his eyes was so unique (A/N that's funny because Ben had the same thing with his eyes just more intense) it filled me with awe. Obviously I wasn't completely surprised; the change in the color of his eyes was a condition called heterochromia, and the only reason why they looked different in the first place was the lighting of the courtyard compared to the fluorescent hospital room. However, it made something in my gut stir as I gazed at his eyes, and at that moment I was sure, more sure than I had ever been that John Watson was the man I loved. He would never again be in danger if I had anything to say about it.