Johnlocked

A Thing For Molly?

This gets a wee bit descriptive of kissing? Nothing real bad. Just be prepared to blush if I've written it good enough. Enjoy!

John had felt the shift in his bones. His friendship with Sherlock had been unexpected and fast forming, but it was impossible to deny how deep their bond went. But what had changed was that John had fallen in love with Sherlock.

The remarkable bit, however, was that John had felt it at all- because the change was sudden, swift, and small; it would have been imperceptible to most. He had nearly missed it.
They'd been drinking tea, that John had made of course, and Sherlock had taken a look at John's blog. He had leaned over him; his breath brushing against John's cheek. He had watched and read what John wrote. Sherlock had opened his mouth to make a comment, no doubt it would have been something scathing about the title or the style. But he sucked in a breath, and his head pulled back from John's shoulder.

He had sipped at his tea, and offered no comment. John's brow had furrowed and he had looked up at the detective, waiting for the snappish words that were sure to spoil John's mood. They always did, even if John never said anything and pretended not to care.

"That's it? No objection or remark?" John was lost and waited for the blow to fall.

"Hm? Oh- no. It's... Brilliant, John." Sherlock was initially surprised, but his voice softened as he spoke. He stepped around John's chair and went back to whatever he had been doing.

"Did you just compliment me?" Now John was really confused.

"I should think so," Sherlock said, his baritone voice oddly deeper than normal. And that was when John realized that he was totally and completely in trouble. Because when those green eyes had gazed at him with complete sincerity and more than a touch of approval- John felt the shift. He couldn't deny how he felt, he wouldn't deny it to himself anymore.

SH

"You've got a thing for Molly." The words floated to John from Sherlock's microscope, and he turned to look at the detective. John jerked out of his memories. John's brow pulled down in confusion and he looked around the room briefly before his eyes flicked back to Sherlock.

"What?" John walked closer, stopping in the doorway. His arm was pressed against the frame, bracing himself. He most certainly did not have a thing for Molly. He didn't have a thing for anyone besides the one person that he could never have. He was resigned to it.

He had stopped dating 3 months ago. That had been after he realized how he felt about Sherlock. At first he'd thrown himself at women in hopes to distract his mind from Sherlock. He'd even gone to speed dating with men. He had quickly come to the conclusion that no, he was most definitely not attracted to men in general. John Watson was not gay and he was not bisexual. But, he was most definitely in love with Sherlock Holmes.

John wasn't quite sure how that had happened. But, then, Sherlock was an enigma. He'd never know much when concerning the detective. It was oddly fitting that nowadays John didn't find anyone except for him attractive. Even woman had lost all appeal.

Sherlock looked up from his microscope, and examined him again, his gaze flew about John and probably missed nothing. But obviously Sherlock didn't see everything, because John liked him. And somehow he wasn't seeing that.

"You heard me." Sherlock replied.

John shifted his weight and blinked, "No, Sherlock. I don't." Sherlock looked up again, his face disbelieving.

"You're wearing your best jumper over that grey shirt, it's your favorite. You always wear that when you have something planned for the night. You've already got your shoes laced, clearly you're nervous." Sherlock began. John was not particularly fond of the direction that this conversation was going towards.