Secrets untold, Lies unfold (Johnlock)

Chapter 3

After those few hours of sitting there, going over everything that has happened, Sherlock asked if we could go home. It seemed fine at the time, really weird to be walking with him next to me. I almost forgot he was there as I was about to climb in the cab then realised that he always got in first. I stood back and nodded an apology. No words were spoken till we reached the flat.

I pushed open the door stating we were entering 221b. I called to Mrs Hudson that we were home. A warm feeling spread through my body, happiness and sadness. She came bustling out, hands raised slightly as if in a rush then she stopped. I refrained from using the phrase, she stopped dead. That brings a few tears up my throat causing mky voice to go raspy. She gasped and held her hands out for a hug then brought them to her face and held them there, she was making little 'OOww' sounds until she walked over to Sherlock and pulled him down to her level and into a hug. His figure looked like a hunchbacked bat. His hands were still in his pockets ( the wings) and his back was like the roof of a turtleshell, a smooth half circle until it reaches his head. And that dark messy hair, just curling around her neck like it was medusa's snakes. She let go of him and turned around babbling about how mad she was and that she must have a cup of tea. I agreed with her last statement about the tea. I walked up the stairs, limping slightly still and put the kettle on. I turned around to Sherlock looking distressed in the corner of the kitchen. I opened my mouth to speak but was beaten to it.

"That cup and saucer have been there a long time judging by the dust that has settled on it, and I clearly remembering you placing that cup on the table...ahhhh" He stopped himself from talking and walked over to hand me some teabags. I couldn't reply, because all the emotions were coming through again. I hadn't moved that cup at all since...his fall. And I never wanted to. Almost as if he might come back and notice that he was never forgotten. I never stopped thinking about him. I screwed up my face to remove those thoughts and concentrated on making tea. I poured the boiling water into the two cups and handed Sherlock his. He didn't shuffle off to the living room he just leaned against the counter, looking wild and lost yet in the right place. I stared back at him until I couldn't handle it anymore. The thought of those eyes made me a mess but to now be staring into them, was a different matter. I turned away from Sherlock, facing the living room, and placed my tea back on the counter. I squeezed the bridge of my running nose to prevent the water works again.

I heard through my violent but small shakes a small clink and then suddenly a pair of arms wrapped around my waist. I leant my head back and let out a shakey breath, trying and failing to calm the tears down. His arms tightened and his head fell to my shoulder, all i could see from my right eye was the mysteriously neat curls placed upon each other. I had a theory that every black curl held a possibility, a thought. Something along the lines of 'He likes you' in one curl and 'he hates you' in another. Sometimes I make myself chuckle at my silly fantasies about Sherlock even caring at all for my existance. I couldn't even get him to buy some blooming milk! But I guess that was just him. Is him. ' That mystery man with all the answers, with the suits in any weather. His blue scarf and that silly upturned coat he wears that only looks good on him; I remember trying. His soft deep voice, the stuff coming out of it was...ridiculous but the way its sounds never differed from any conversation eve when he was uncomfortable it would still have his deep montone but have different sparks. The reason how I knew he was human. My mystery man.' I blinked and realised what had happened. Unconsciously I had been whispering what my mind had been saying. And unfortunately I didn't have many pauses in that paragraph and only noticed when I had finished because of a small weight in my head telling me i've stopped talking. I stiffened as Sherlock lifted his head. But he didn't push me away, he didn't scream in my face at how discusting I was he just swivvled me around. His eyes glaring into mine, like tiny knives. A smirk appeared on his face as he loomed into my face. His top lip was briefly grazing a long mine. Was he...teasing me? I held myself together because I had no idea what I was doing, I knew what I was doing just I couldn't control it ; almost as though I was drunk. He breathed out his nose and the breath whirled around my face like invisible smoke. His eyes penetrated against mine as I tried to focus but he blinked very slowly and I couldn't take it anymore. I pushed forward and made his lips crash against mine, his arms stayed in their place around my hips as my hands felt everything they could on their way up to his hair. Once they were both in there I tucked at it. Sherlock opened his mouth to gasp but no sound came out, I took that opertunity and threw my tongue in his mouth. He adjusted his hands clumsily to a new position. One on my neck and one still in the hollow of my back, pulling me closer. I stopped our kiss, which to my amazement I could do. And I looked around awkwardly. Coughing and covering my mouth with a fist. But I couldn't stay awkward for long as a loud laugh rippled through the body still attached to me. I looked at him and he looked most amused.

"And how long have I waited for that? Well..Years!" Sherlock was almost shouting with glee. He let go of me and bounded around like a fan girl. He was touching his lips and hugging himself. Almost screaming but luckily holding them in. I stood there in amazement.

He...was...waiting?