Don't Be...Dead

9- Breakfast

(Sherlock)

I woke up to John next to me and an instant smile plastered itself across my face. He was so cute when he slept, the sun coming through the window pulling out the yellow color in his hair. No, I scolded myself mentally, John does not thing of you like that, so stop thinking of him in that way. I swept all these thoughts together and tried to delete them, but the thoughts remained in my head. I tried again. Nothing. These emotions were getting really annoying fast.

I looked down at John and thought for a moment. How exactly had he gotten here? Not that I minded of course, but still… I thought back to last night and cursed myself as I recalled what had happened. Not only had I shown emotion and vulnerability, but quite possibly had clued John in that I hoped our relationship would be something more. I felt bad about how long I had been away, about all I had put John through. I supposed I should make it up to him. That is what people did, right? Made things up to people?

I slipped myself out of bed, careful not to disturb John. Silently I made my way down to the kitchen and turned on a burner, searching around for a skillet. People always assumed I couldn’t cook, when in reality I was a very good cook. Usually I was just too wrapped up in a case to bother cooking or be hungry enough to eat. I just never had a reason to cook before.

I flipped the last pancake onto the plate and, brushing the flour out of my eyes with one hand, set the skillet in the sink. I looked down at myself, pale as a ghost from the flour that covered me. Ok, so maybe I wasn’t as good a cook as I thought I was… I put a cup of tea for John next to the plate and left to take a shower.