Ch.5
After they checked in to their hotel, Sherlock flopped down on the bed that he had claimed for his own.
"I am so full," Sherlock whined.
"Told you so," John repeated, grinning at his friend. He put his own bag beside the other bed and sat down on the edge of it, looking out the balcony window.
"Shut up," Sherlock said.
"You just don't like me being right," John teased.
"I said I was off my game, John. It won't last forever," Sherlock said, laying an arm over his eyes. John smirked and rolled his eyes. He kicked off his shoes and lay down on the bed opposite Sherlock's. He closed his eyes, but didn't go to sleep. He just listened to the sounds around him in the room. Cars passing by on the roads outside, Sherlock's light breathing, his own breathing...silence was nice. Nice, but not normal, being he was in the same room as Sherlock Holmes.
"You know something, John?" came Sherlock's voice. Knew he wouldn't last, John thought, smiling.
"I know a lot of things, Sherlock," John said.
"Smart ass...I meant it in an asking manner," Sherlock said, sitting up. "I meant, do you realize something..."
"What am I supposed to realize?" John asked, eyes still closed.
"Obviously, you are supposed to realize that I didn't gripe about them not giving us separate rooms, like I asked," Sherlock said.
"You asked for separate rooms?" John asked, opening his eyes and sitting up.
"Well, yes. Thought it might be uncomfortable for you to sleep..." Sherlock started.
"No, no...it's quite alright. I would rather have you in my sight, anyhow," John said. Shit, he thought.
"What's that mean?" Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow. Quick thinking, John thought.
"It means, that if you're in my sight, then if I have to be the 'hero', as you call me, then I won't have to go very far," John said, quickly.
"Oh...alright, then," Sherlock said, lying back down. Wait...did he sound...disappointed? Disappointed for what? John thought. He looked over at Sherlock, who had his arm over his eyes again. He was almost longer than the bed, which John found quite funny.
Sherlock, on the other hand, was not amused. His mind wouldn't relax, no matter how much his body ached to. He couldn't turn his thoughts off of John; not like he ever could or would want to. Even when he was away, he thought of his blogger non-stop. Molly even noticed after awhile. He remembered her words, "You look sad...when you think he can't see you..."; and Sherlock was sad when he wasn't around John. At first, whenever John went to work and Sherlock had nothing to distract him, he thought it was mere boredom. After awhile though, he managed to miss the doctor. Nothing brightened Sherlock's day more than when John walked into 221B after a long day. They would just talk or not talk...play Cluedo (much to Sherlock's amusement at John getting irritated at him), eat dinner, watch the telly, or really just anything. John was Sherlock's first real friend. Yes, he had Molly at the time, but her kind of friendship was more so an infatuation than anything. They were good friends now, though. He had people he cared about as well. But John...John was the first one to say his deductions were amazing. Usually people told him to piss off; especially when he was right.
"Sherlock? You asleep?" John asked.
"No. Something wrong?" he asked.
"Your phone rang a few minutes ago. I didn't know if you heard it or not," John said.
