See right through me - Johnlock

Chapter 2 - The dryer

Chapter 2

The dryer

John awoke to the clattering of his flat mate in the kitchen. Although he slept on the floor above, it seemed nothing was to prevent the noise caused by Sherlock and his experiments.

John plodded sleepily down the stairs, rubbing his eyes with one hand and attempting to tie his dressing gown with the other.

"Sherlock! It's 6am! Could you keep it down?"He called. He waited for an answer but none came.

"Sherlock?" He called once more. He heard a subtle grunt come from the kitchen as he lolled into the living room. He sighed as he slumped into his arm chair.

"Tea, John?" Came a mummble voice.

"Yes please, Sherlock." John answered.

John was tired, but it didn't take him long to realise that some thing wasn't right.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes, John?"

"You don't normaly make tea."

"No, John."

"Why are you making tea?" Silence. John stood up to go into the kitchen but Sherlock was blacking his path.

"Sherlock, what are you hiding?"

"Nothing..." He might have been the worlds greatest dectective, but John could easily tell when he was telling a lie.

"Sherlock." He repeated sternly.

"Ok. Ok. Sorry but I used your favourite teapot for an experiment and I may have pickled a kidney in there...and when I say maybe I me definatley..." Sherlock spluttered.

John didn't reply, instead he clenched his jaw and looked up towards the ceiling, as if looking for something to say.

"Some times...Just...Honestly Sherlock..." He fumbled for words so gave up and walked away.

When he left however, he couldn't see the glimmer of upset in Sherlocks ocean blue eyes.

He always did something wrong, didn't he? John was always upset with him. Why couldn't he just do something right?

Sherlock sighed and flung his slender body onto the sofa. He lay there, thinking, in his mind palace, for a very long time.

He was attempting to find a way to make it up to John, to show that he did care. John wasn't just his flate mate or side-kick, no! John was the man who made him feel human! Who gave him a sence of belonging! He had never felt as if he had belonged before. Not anywhere. Exept here, beside John.

Later that day John was cleaning away Sherlock's unwanted mess. He cleared and wiped the table, swept the floor and collected all of the dirty clothes to wash. As normal he was stuffing the colthes into the washing machine when he noticed Sherlock's favourite purple shirt. 'The purple shirt of sex', as he had heard it called. This made him chuckle.

Out of the blue, a plan formulated inside John's mind. This was sure to teach Sherlock a lesson.

The next morning...

Once again John was woken up to clattering of 'science' equiptment. He wrapped up in his dressing gown and made his way to the kitchen.

John smirked. Sherlock hadn't noticed yet.

"What are you doing, Sherlock?"

"I'm cleaning away my stuff, John."

"Yes, I can see that..." John was confused. Why was Sherlock being tidy? He can't possibly have been doing it because he felt sorry for John. This is Sherlock Holmes we are talking about here. Self proclaimed 'high functioning sociopath'.

"Beep!" John snapped out of his daze as Sherlock's phone rand out a message alert.

3 found dead, Beach ave, alley way, no obvious cause of death, come quickley

GL

"We've got a case John!" Sherlock exclaimed. Since when did Sherlock say 'We've? All John could do was smile and turn towards his room to dress. Sherlock did the same.

Oh no...Maybe he wont wear it today...

John pleaded silently.

Sure enough...

"John?!"

"Yes, Sherlock?" He coughed nervously, Sherlock had been kind to him but he hadn't returned the favour.

"Here. Now."

John almost fell down the stair as he went towards Sherlock's intimidating voice.

Before him he saw a shirtless Sherlock holding his favourite purple shirt. John blushed.

"What's wrong with your shirt?" He asked, although he already knew.

"You shrunk it. Don't lie. You put it in the dryer." Sherlock's stare was intence and John felt himself turn a deeper shade of red.

"Uh...well...y-yes.." His tounge fumbled in his mouth, struggling to form words.

You have been in a war yet you melt like butter when Sherlock stares at you. Well done... John thought.

As John returned the glare, he realised that Sherlock was also blushing. He hadn't thought about it, but like Sherlock, he too was shirtless.

"You can have it." Sherlocks usual steady voice had cracked and he sounded like an embarrased child.

"Are you sure?" Was all John could say. He was suprised that Sherlock hadn't shouted at him yet.

"Yes I'm sure, now take it before I shout at you..."

John grabbed the shirt, and with a short smile headed up the stairs. Leaving Sherlock, blushing and shirtless, to stand frozen like a love struck school girl.

After he had dressed, John went back down stairs to find Sherlock. He was wearing the purple shirt, which fitted suprisingly well. In his arms he carried something. A little gift in return for his new favourite shirt.

It wasn't long before Sherlock emerged from his bedroom, scarf in hand.

"Have this." Johns voice was uneasy but stern enough for Sherlock to listen.

"Your jumper?"

"It's too big for me, you gave me your shirt that I shrunk, so I'm giving you my jumper." John's eyes where watching the ground. He perposley avoided eye contact in fear of blushing harder than he already was.

"Thank you." Correct me if I'm wrong, but it sounded as if Sherlock was pleased! John looked up to see his flat mate beaming from ear to ear.

Sherlock quickly took the jumper from John amd tried it on. Perfect fit!

"You always say my jumpers are silly." John pointed out.

"Yes well, it was because I wanted one really..." Sherlock blushed.

"Suits you." John smiled a big smile, making his eyes crease and glimmer.

"Yes, it's quite cuddley too." He mused. But before he could say another word he felt John's strong arms wrap around his waist.

"I agree." He mummbled into Sherlock's shoulder.

John smiled, Sherlock did too. They both wanted this momment to last forever. John closed his eyes and enjoyed the comfort of his best friend's slender arms.

With no further ado, Sherlock looked down and kissed John. A small peck on the forehead. Suprised, John's eyes shot open and he almost leapt on Sherlock as he pressed his lips hard against Sherlock's.

That was a beautiful day.