A/N OMG 1000+ READS??!!! thank you guys soooo much for your reads and votes!! Love you all!!! If any of you lovelies have any requests just let me know!!
So in this one, Sherlock and John have talked about how John feels about Sherlock. John is openly attracted to Sherlock but believes that Sherlock feels nothing. Then an all-nighter and that purple shirt happen. Enjoy <3
I stretched and rubbed my eyes, trying to chase the sleep from the corners. Sherlock was working on a particularly tough case and had somehow convinced me to stay up all night sorting through receipts. I massaged my neck, trying to work out the kink that formed as I stood. I headed into the kitchen and started a fresh pot of coffee.
"Do you want coffee Sherlock?" He waved his hand absentmindedly, making a soft grunting noise in my direction. I smirked and leaned against the counter, watching the brilliant man as he worked. I loved watching him work, his brow furrowed in concentration and those long, pale fingers rifling through papers. He was still wearing his suit from yesterday, though he had shed the jacket and rolled the sleeves up to his elbows. He was wearing the purple shirt that clung to his thin frame in all the right ways. My feelings towards the detective were not unknown. In fact, he had confronted me about them once. That had been one of the most uncomfortable conversations I had ever been part of. Sherlock doesn't feel things like that, he made that perfectly clear, but he was perfectly OK with me having feelings with him. He even encouraged me to tell him when I was feeling attracted to him.
"John, as much as I know you love staring at me, we do need to solve this case." His voice cut through my thoughts and I shook myself to try and focus.
"Sorry," I mumbled as I turned to check on the coffee, it was done. I poured the hot liquid into our respective mugs and made sure to measure out the perfect amount of sugar in his. He was always so picky. I picked up the mugs and made my way over to him, being careful not to spill. I placed his beside him and was about to turn away when I felt a hand on my elbow. I looked down at my flatmate, who hadn't looked up from what he was doing.
"What is it this time?"
"I don't understand." He smirked but still didn't look at me.
"What am I doing that is distracting you this time?" I felt my stomach clench, he normally didn't ask outright. I felt a blush creep up my neck.
"N-nothing, I just like watching you work." I stumbled over the words. I didn't want to tell him how much I loved that shirt. I was afraid if he knew he would stop wearing it.
"It's the shirt isn't it?" Damn. He finally turned to look at me, he piercing eyes making my knees weak. How in the hell can one man make me feel so much? I nodded weakly, averting my gaze. I saw in smile triumphantly out of the corner of my eye. I tried to escape again, but his grip on my elbow tightened.
"I'm sorry Sherlock. Can I please just get back to work?" I hated being part of his little experiment, especially when I had to explain things. Instead of responding, he stood, towering over me as he always did. Though somehow, I felt smaller than ever under his critical gaze today. I felt his fingers ghosting along my arm, drawing goosebumps to the surface. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to fight the feelings that were threatening to overtake my body. "Sherlock-" My voice cracked and I pressed my lips shut, trying to compose myself.
"John, do you like this shirt on me?" His voice was low and soft, barely above a whisper. The sound sent a chill down my spine as I nodded, ducking my head to try and avoid his gaze. He was very close to me and I could smell the soft scent of Lavender on him. He used a Lavender soap, to help him relax in the bath. I felt cold fingers under my chin, pulling my face up. I kept my eyes facing the floor.
"John, look at me." I kept my gaze low, trying desperately to find a way out of this situation. "John, please look at me." His voice took on a slightly pleading tone and I had to look up. My eyes caught his and I was entranced. I felt my body start to tremble as I stood there. There was no way he didn't catch that. There was a soft smile on his lips as he watched me. "You never told me my touch affected you this way." He was whispering now and I felt shame coursing through my body.
"You never touch me like this." My voice was soft, wavering under the force of everything I was feeling. He looked confused for a moment.
"I have touched you before." I laughed bitterly, unable to contain the pain that suddenly made its presence known in my mind. He honestly had no clue what the difference was between his rough grabs during a chase and whatever this was.
"Not like this." I repeated, feeling tears start to prick at the back of my eyes. I blinked a few times to shove them back. He furrowed his brow and looked off to the side slightly, thinking. He looked back at me, his eyes now softer, more understanding. He moved his fingers along my jawline, before cupping the back of my neck. He suddenly looked nervous and I only had a brief moment to think before he pulled my face closer, timidly pressing his soft lips against mine.
It was stiff and awkward, just the lightest of kisses, but it was enough to send my mind into a tailspin. He pulled away before I had time to react. My chest felt as though all the air had been pulled from my lungs. His normally pale skin had developed a soft flush and his lips were parted slightly. He looked stunning.
"Sherlock-" I could barely think. He had kissed me. Sherlock Holmes, the high-functioning sociopath, had just kissed me.
"John, what is happening to me?" He sounded scared, and it occurred to me he had probably never felt anything like this before.
"I don't know Sherlock. I don't know how you feel things." I was scared to, this was huge and I had no idea how to handle a relationship with someone like him. "Talk to me, tell me what you feel."
"I-I- I don't know." I nodded.
"Do you trust me?" He nodded, just the slightest movement, but it was enough. "Then tell me when it gets to be too much." He nodded again and I reached for him. I placed one of my hands on his hip and the other on the back of his neck, moving slowly and keeping my touch as soft as possible. He didn't like being touched, that much I knew. I gently pulled him closer, guiding his lips to meet mine in a tender kiss. He was stiff against me, uncertain and terrified, but he made no move to push me away. In fact, he allowed me to pull him closer and deepen the kiss ever so slightly. Soon, he seemed to find his confidence and started kissing back, his actions timid and unsure.
We kissed like that for a few minutes, soft and gentle, no desperation or need tainting the perfect moment. All too soon though, he pulled away, breathless and flushed. My heart was light and there was a blissful smile on my face.
"I think I should wear this shirt more often." I laughed, feeling giddy. "I will wear it every day if it gets this kind of reaction from you."
"You dolt," he looked confused at my words, "I would kiss you no matter what you were wearing." A pleased smile pulled at his lips. "Does this mean you would be willing to kiss me again?" I was hopeful; maybe he was feeling something after all. His response was to pull me back in for another kiss, this one brief but confident. My head was reeling when he pulled back.
"I am more than willing, Dr. Watson." He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling. I loved that grin. I grinned back at him and kissed him again, unable to get enough of the feeling of his lips against mine. He pulled away laughing, causing me to let out a rather undignified whine at the loss. "As much as I am enjoying this, we do still have a case to solve."
"Damn, you're certain it can't wait?" He giggled at my complaint, shaking his head and turning to sit once again at the desk. I let out an exaggerated sigh at this and made my way to my own station, turning my chair so I could see him more clearly. I was happy, for the first time in years. I knew this relationship would be difficult, but I didn't care, Sherlock Holmes felt something for me and that was all that mattered. We attacked the case with renewed fervor, desperate to solve it so we could continue what we started.
