Heyheyhey! This is my first story, (that I have put online anyway,) and I would really love feedback, good or bad, thank you for reading! Also, later chapters will have sex in them, I just haven't had the motivation to write it yet. Thanks!
Sherlock slammed the door to 221 B. Baker Street shut.
“IGNORANCE! SUCH IGNORANCE!” He shouted with more anger than usual.
John got up from his typing position and sighed, knowing it was going to be another long night of convincing Sherlock not to brutally murder everyone at Scotland Yard.
“Sherlock....you need to calm down.” replied John with an exaggerated pause.
“I....I can’t. Why must I be granted this incredible brain? Why can’t I be normal? Like you?”
John paused. For a long time, he had tried not to get offended with the multiple insults Sherlock had unknowingly hurt him with, but today, both flatmates were angry. Sherlock, oh precious Sherlock! Intelligence was just too much to handle! He doesn’t care, he never cares!
The taller companion paced the spacious flat, murmuring some shit John didn’t really care to hear. He could move out. It was always an option, and Sarah had been telling him for some time Sherlock was interfering with the already fragile relationship. He always retorted back, saying Sherlock needed him, he needed a strong backbone, but now Sarah was starting to make more sense.
Sherlock, slowing his pace, was thinking of John. It was quite easy to tell John wanted to leave. Not only had his attitude towards Sherlock’s antics become progressively less patient, but everyone always left Sherlock in the end. No point in delaying the heartache to follow. Sherlock never thought of himself an emotional man, but when people left, it hurt. It was the only normality Sherlock thought he owned.
Sherlock could deal with others leaving. It would come to pass. However, the idea of John leaving for good was too much for him to bear. Sherlock felt he was never interested in anyone romantically, because he was mistaken in believing romantic interest was always sexual desire, for which he felt none. In reality, Sherlock was very much in love with John. His golden hair, sparkling blue eyes, profile as delicate as a flower, it was enough to make Sherlock's heart accelerate. He loved how short the doctor was compared to him, and how adoring the doctor was of his marvalous abilities. A life without his blogger was a life he did not wish to live. His eyes started to water, and he turned away quickly, to not get caught harboring feelings.
John, having some difficulty imagining a life without his arrogant flatmate, was confused. Sherlock was his best mate! Why were these sudden feelings taking effect? John had dated enough to know when lust was going to bloom or just be a one time thing. This felt...unusual. The last time he had this type of lust was with his first girlfriend, with whom he fell in love. He looked at the consulting detective, who also looked confused. He had to admit Sherlock was an attractive man. He had the palest skin, contrasted with the jet black hair, and eyes holding all stars in the universe. Although the detective was a good six inches taller than him, John still could appreciate his looks.
After about a good fifteen minutes of day dreaming, the flatmates shook themselves out of their daze, to find they were staring at each other, in a slightly romantic fashion never expressed before.
