The Experiment
It was already very late when I got home that evening. I had to work longer because of that one day where I had to leave two hours earlier because Sherlock called me home to pass him a pen.
It was the 22nd December and the streets were all white, covered by a shift of snow. When I was walking up the stairs of 221B, I could already hear the familiar sound of Sherlock's violin though which was playing a melody I had never heard before. Probably one of his own creations. As I closed the door behind me quite noisy, the playing stopped abruptly. I was slowly walking up the stairs when I saw Sherlock sitting on the sofa with his hands placed together under his chin and starring into the room. The moment I walked into the room he jumped up, paced the room and stopped only an inch away from me. "Would you mind participating on an experiment?" I was surprised at first but in fact that I had nothing better to do I said: "Eh... Sure why not."
He was leading me to the armchair and he was taking place opposite on the other one. "What do you even want to prove by this experiment?" I asked. He was moving a bit closer to the edge of the armchair and said: "If I would tell you that it would affect the results and the experiment would have been pointless." "Right". Actually I should have known that he would answer that. He was sitting quietly and staring at me in a quite ... interested way it seemed. "I just need you to stay exactly where you are. But if anything should be uncomfortable, you have to tell me". I was a bit confused by that, but I didn't want to ruin it so I just nodded.
At first he just stared at me, no not really staring at me but more staring into my eyes, like he could read my thoughts. It was a bit scary but I still concentrated myself on these clear, blue, ... beautiful eyes. What?! No I don't think of him like that! Or do I...? No! John Hamish Watson you are and always will be a straight man! But he's got so beautiful eyes and these cheekbones...oh God! I was so in thoughts that I didn't realised that Sherlock had moved a lot closer and that he was only a hand away from me. He stood up from the couch and kneeled right in front of me. Our faces were now only inches apart. My straight side wanted to yell at him, tell him to stop. But my other side wanted him only closer. He was moving his hand to my cheek and was rubbing slowly his thumb over my cheekbone.
I couldn't hold it anymore, so I closed the gap between us and pressed my lips against his. I was rushing my hands through his beautiful curled hair and he was pulling me even closer. I've wanted this for so long, also if my mind didn't want to realise it. I loved this man. Yes, I was in love with Sherlock Holmes. And nobody could tell me otherwise.
When we finally parted I rested my forehead against his and we were both breathing heavily. Sherlock was the first who broke the silence. "Experiment successful." I chuckled and gave him another soft kiss.
