Between The Raindrops- A Johnlock Fanfiction (Sequel to Beside You)

Chapter Seventeen- Tampered With Your Title

Sometimes I have a queer feeling with regard to you- especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous Channel, and two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapped; and then I’ve a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly.
- Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

A/N- Okay, the Christmas special gave me a mix of sad and happy feels and MADE ME LIKE ANDERSON AND IDEK ANYMORE. AND THEN WE HAD DOCTOR WHO AND I JUST LOST IT AND I CAN’T ANYMORE.

What I’m trying to say, is that the fluff in this chapter is bloody ridiculous. I don’t know what happened. I hope you’ve all had an amazing Christmas, or at least a brilliant day if you don’t celebrate it! Enjoy!

John
“I can’t believe we’re leaving tomorrow,” I said, breaking the silence between Sherlock and I. He hadn’t spoken for the last hour or so, and I’d been lying with my head in his lap whilst he borrowed my computer to ‘send an email to Lestrade’.

“Mmf,” he said, glancing down at me and brushing my cheek with his thumb before linking his hand with mine. He started to type with just one.

“I think I’m going to update my blog later, actually.”

“Mm-hm,” Sherlock nodded, definitely focusing on whatever he was writing. I sighed.

 “Looks like we’re going to need another bag to carry all the new stuff.” Pause- no reaction except a squeeze of the hand. “Tell you what- I’ll go and get us one now.”

“Down the street, five shops, turn left at the traffic lights, direct across the road,” he told me the directions he’d memorized to an appropriate place to buy bags, still holding my hand and doing what felt like stroking it when I got up, before bringing it to his lips. I kissed his forehead.

 “Anything else you need?”

“Um, yes, actually.”

“Okay, what?”

“Can you get me my phone?”

“Umm… Alright, where is it?”

“Front pocket,” I sighed, and reached into it to retrieve his phone. “Careful,” he cautioned me. I handed it to him with a small laugh. “Thank you.”

“That’s okay, love,” I turned to leave again, but I was stopped by a small tug of the sleeve.

“Yes?”

“Kiss,” he said, and closed his eyes.

“Lazy sod…” I muttered, but gladly pressed my lips against his.

After I’d found an appropriate bag (which actually took me quite a while, seeing as most of the people in the store only spoke French so we had to communicate by hand gestures), I received a text from Sherlock:

Hello, John. – SWH

With a sigh, I peered out the window, not expecting Sherlock to appear the way he was. His hair was styled extremely well, outlining his cheekbones and somehow exposing his galaxy-like eyes even more than usual. He was wearing the expensive suit he’d purchased at La Fayette, but for some reason he had his converse on. To top this off, he was holding an extravagant bow of roses with a card strapped to them. He returned my gaze with a smirk for a moment, then looked back at his phone. A few seconds later, I received another text alert:

You’re blushing, John. You know, you can still look at me from outside. There’s a cool breeze. – SWH

I paid for the bag quickly, and rushed out to greet him.