He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

Police Have No Patience

"This is going to be difficult." He muttered to himself, waddling out the front door the best he could with such a big box.
"Need a hand?" Sherlock offered, pulling his coat around himself and grabbing one end of the box.
"Hamish don't forget your backpack, and grab my jacket!" John added. "Thanks Sherlock."
"Anytime." Sherlock assured with a laugh. Together they made their way across the road, looking like two hoboes wanting to relocate. Hamish scrambled along after them, Redbeard not far behind, wanting to join in on this little adventure. Thankfully Hamish was there to open the door, and together Sherlock and john dropped the box on the ground.
"Go up and do your homework Hamish, we won't be a moment." John assured, shooing his child along before turning on the porch light and closing the door. This left just John and Sherlock, alone on the porch and trying not to look each other directly in the eyes, at least not yet.
"So you were serious, about watching Hamish I mean?" John wondered.
"Of course, yes. Obviously I'm the only person qualified, in the morning I can help him get ready for school and in the afternoon he can help me with gardening." Sherlock decided, shrugging as if he didn't just single handedly save John's life.
"You don't know how relieved that makes me, how much weight that takes off of my shoulders." John admitted, breathing his first easy breath in what felt like weeks.
"It's the least I can do john, really. And besides, it will me a good way for the two of us to bond." Sherlock decided.
"He adores you already. He thinks that you're one of the best men alive." John admitted. Sherlock laughed modestly, tapping his heel against the sidewalk and looking up at John.
"He really said that?" he wondered.
"Ever since I first met you he's suggested a relationship. I was just too naïve to realize that what I wanted, it was right in front of me all along." John admitted.
"And what was that you wanted?" Sherlock wondered, leading himself up to a sweet compliment.
"I wanted someone to love, someone who would love me back, and someone who I can spend the rest of my life with." John admitted, looking at Sherlock with soft, loving eyes. The eyes that watched him back were as beautiful as the stars, staring at him like he were the most precious human being to ever walk the earth.
"John, I really do love you." Sherlock admitted. "In case you were wondering."
"I want to kiss you again." John admitted. There was a bit of a nervous silence, but suddenly the two broke out into a fit of giggles, humor in the most awkwardness of times.
"Well um, what's stopping you?" Sherlock wondered. John laughed, shrugging in confusion.
"I have no idea, honestly I just...you're really kissable right now." He admitted.
"Go on then." Sherlock assured with a bit of a daring smile.
"That's a challenge, isn't it?" John wondered.
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Sherlock admitted. John just giggled a little bit, walking up to Sherlock and pressing a short, loving kiss onto his lips, just for good measure. However quick the kiss was, it left both of them breathless, it left them both dying for more but they knew that they couldn't, not now. The porch lights illuminated Sherlock's glowing face, his smile, his beautiful eyes that seemed determined to look anywhere but at John.
"Well then, goodnight boyfriend." John said with a cute little laugh. Sherlock nodded, stepping aside and letting John open the door.
"Goodnight Mr. Watson." He muttered, and John just smiled.
"Ever the polite." John decided, and with that he pulled the door shut, last seeing Sherlock's small face staring up at him in admiration before he walked up the stairs into the darkness, taking deep breaths and trying to figure out what he had ever done to get such an amazing man to be his.

When John woke up he couldn't see anything around him. He knew his alarm hadn't gone off and it was completely dark, the sun still hadn't risen. He had woken in a sort of panic, and he couldn't figure out why until he heard it again, a sound, almost like....footsteps. John glanced at the clock, it was only five in the morning, he had at least thirty minutes until he had to crawl out of bed and face the cold world, so why was there movement outside his door? John took a deep breath, his limbs feeling like lead as he forced himself to be still, his ears tingling with the anticipation of another sound. Could it be Hamish, getting up to get a glass of water? Or was it someone else... Again it came, John heard the squeak of a floor board under someone's foot, right outside his door, there was someone lingering there. John took a deep breath, pushing the blankets off of him ever so quietly and getting to his feet, grabbing his large flashlight and holding it as a club. He should really consider keeping a pistol by his bed, just in case something like this happened again. He crept towards the door, so quiet he could barely hear himself breathing, his hand reaching for the doorknob...and it turned. At first he thought he had acquired the force while he slept but no, obviously it was being turned by someone outside, someone trying to get in. The doorknob turned so slowly it felt like the universe was stuck in slow motion, John raised the flashlight, ready to strike, and the door swung slowly open. John gave an attack cry, running out the door and straight into his attacker, smacking the flashlight at whatever he could find. Unfortunately he couldn't find much, and the flashlight hit off the doorframe and fell out of his hands. There was a scream from both men as John found himself falling, grabbing the other man around the neck and pulling him down with him in the hallway, tumbling around in the darkness. There were flailing limbs, little shouts of horror, John finally had his hands around the man's neck when all of the sudden it became silent, and he couldn't help but recognize the little croak of a voice underneath his suffocating force.
"John..." it wheezed, two large hands trying to pull John's fingers from around his neck.
"Oh my god." John whispered, immediately letting go. As soon as he came to the realization the hall light turned on, and John stared down into the white face of Sherlock Holmes, his beautiful eyes filled with terror.
"Oh my...oh Sherlock why in the world didn't you knock?" John wondered, rolling onto the carpet himself and looking at who had turned the light on. It was Hamish, of course, wearing his foam knight armor and holding a Nerf gun in one hand and the phone in the other, looking absolutely terrified.
"I called the police." Hamish admitted, dropping the phone onto the carpet in shame. John groaned, letting his head fall to the ground, realizing he was dealing with a total disaster before six o'clock in the morning. Sherlock pulled himself up into a sitting positon, coughing and leaning against the wall, taking deep breaths as to make sure he was still alive.
"The door was unlocked, I thought that meant I was just supposed to come in." he admitted, collapsing into a fit of coughs and holding onto the doorframe for support.
"I'm so sorry Sherlock; I didn't know you were going to come so early." John admitted. "I was asleep."
"They said they were on their way, so you two should probably look a bit less..." Hamish didn't seem to want to finish his sentence; obviously there were no words to describe how the two looked.
"Murderous." John offered.
"That's a good word." Hamish agreed nervously. Sherlock pulled himself to his feet, messaging his neck from where John's hands were wrapped around it.
"God, I'm so sorry." John muttered. Sherlock just shook his head, clearing his throat and offering a hand to help John up. John took it, and together they managed to get him back on his feet.
"It's fine; I would've done the same thing." Sherlock admitted, his voice sounding very aged and croaky, as if he had somehow maintained a twenty year smoking habit since John had last seen him.
"I might've killed you." John pointed out.
"Killed me...probably not. Seriously injured, maybe, but not killed me. I'm sure you would've realized it was me after a while." Sherlock shrugged.
"If I hadn't missed with that flashlight you might've been dead." John pointed out, looking to where his flashlight lay, seriously dented, on the carpet next to him.
"Why is it your first reaction to attack unexpected guests?" Sherlock wondered, straightening out his jacket and looking at John curiously.
"Well if you had made your presence clear maybe I wouldn't have, but it's my first reaction to attack people who creep outside my door at five o'clock in the morning." John insisted.
"Well, at least Hamish was smart enough to arm himself." Sherlock pointed out, eyeing the Nerf gun in his hand.
"I thought you were here to kill us." Hamish admitted.
"I'm here to do quite the opposite, I'm supposed to keep you alive, at least until the bus comes to pick you up." Sherlock pointed out.
"That's a morbid way to say you're the babysitter." John decided. Sherlock just laughed, his eyes flicking rather guiltily over John.
"You should probably get dressed; if the cops are coming we might as well look a little bit professional." Sherlock decided. John just laughed, looking down at himself as if just realizing what he was wearing. Or...not wearing. All he was wearing was pajama pants, very short ones at that, and that was definitely not the type of attire he wanted anyone to see him in, much less the police.
"Good idea." John agreed, blushing a little bit in embarrassment as he ducked into his room to pull a shirt on. Meanwhile Sherlock stood in the hallway, messaging his throat and making sure he didn't look too awful. It wasn't long until they started to hear sirens coming up the road, disrupting the whole neighborhood no doubt. John peeked out the window, watching as a cop car came zipping down the road, sirens wailing, and halting outside their house. Two armed men came rushing out of the car, guns drawn, and up the front sidewalk.
"Oh great, we've got guests." John groaned, pulling the curtains shut and walking down the stairs to the front door. There was a knock, and as soon as John got down the stairs the door was kicked open. Obviously the police had no patience.
"Police, hands up!" one of them cried, a large blond man who didn't look like he was playing around. John froze, throwing his hands up in the air in surrender.
"It's a misunderstanding, my son called." He insisted, trying to sound as calm as possible.
"Who else is in the house, he said there was an intruder?" the other asked, a woman with black hair pulled back into a hasty pony tail, as if they had just woken up as well.
"There's no one here, my boyfriend, he was coming to baby sit before the school bus came, he didn't knock and I thought he was an attacker." John admitted. The police blinked for a moment and John could just slap them, the town's finest, flinching at the very mention of a gay relationship.
"Where are they?" the cop asked.
"Behind me, coming down now." John admitted.
"Come out, hands behind your heads, slowly down the stairs!" the woman called.
"I'm already out." Sherlock hissed, but slowly all three of them made their way down the stairs, hands up, all very confused. Obviously they had to know this was all a big mistake? They couldn't actually think John was trying to talk his way out of this.
"Honestly officers, there's been a misunderstanding!" Sherlock insisted. "I'm here to babysit."
"How can we be sure?" the woman asked, as if this were just some big guessing game.
"I called because I was scared, if I had known it was Mr. Sherlock I wouldn't have called at all." Hamish admitted, still dressed in his knight armor. Finally the officers lowered their guns, sighing in realization.
"So this is all just some big misconception?" the man wondered.
"Ya, that's what we've been trying to tell you." John agreed.
"Keep your hands up, we'll still frisk you, just to make sure there's nothing going on here." the man insisted, nodding his head at the woman. She gave him a look of annoyance, and the man stared at her, as if trying to send some sort of message through his eyes.
"Don't want to touch a gay man, huh? I thought cops were brave." Sherlock laughed, and John glared at him.
"Not really the time." John insisted, feeling a wave of second hand embarrassment flow over him.
"I don't want to hear it, this is a serious investigation." The man snapped, and Sherlock just laughed a little bit, shrugging in agreement.
"Of course." He agreed. Nevertheless the woman patted them all down, even little Hamish, making sure he wasn't hiding any guns in his dinosaur pajamas. Obviously they didn't find anything, that is until they got to Sherlock. The woman patted down his chest and frowned, feeling a strange lump in his inside jacket pocket.
"Yes that's..." Sherlock just cleared his throat rather awkwardly, looking a bit embarrassed. She pulled out what looked to be a crushed daffodil, looking at Sherlock in surprise. "That's for John." he admitted. John couldn't help but smile, seeing the crushed yellow pedals clinging to the flower.
"Well then, that's um...that's really cute." The woman admitted, and Sherlock couldn't help but laugh.
"We're good here; obviously this was just a misunderstanding." She decided, looking towards her partner, who was still glaring at Sherlock as if he had offended him, which obviously he had.
"Thanks for coming down though; I'll feel safer knowing the cops know what they're doing." John admitted, not quite sure what else to say. This was a bit of an awkward situation. The woman handed Sherlock the flower, who took it thankfully and glanced over at John, who smiled awkwardly.
"Yes well, have a good day sir." The woman said with a smile. The man just glared, but she walked out of the house, dragging him by his arm in annoyance. Sherlock cleared his throat a little bit after the cops had left, looking over at John once more.
"Shouldn't they have done a little bit more investigating?" John wondered, watching the cop car drive away through the open window.
"It's too early for any of this." Sherlock admitted. "Even for the cops."  

    "Where have you been?" Greg wondered, leaning against his cash register while John came running frantically into the store.
"Long story, very long story that I really don't want to relive." John admitted. Greg smiled knowingly, looking at John as if he had newfound respect for him.
"Wild night, huh?" he guessed. John groaned, shaking his head and pulling his jacket off.
"Wild morning." he sighed. Greg laughed in glee, clicking his pen open and closed while he watched John try to prepare for the work day.
"Huh, I never really took you as a wild morning type of guy. Never really took Sherlock as a wild anything guy, but whatever floats your boat I suppose." Greg shrugged. John just groaned, rolling his eyes and glaring at Greg defensively.
"That's not what I meant, and no, nothing 'wild' happened. The cops showed up, which was a hiccup up my usual morning schedule." John admitted.
"You're kidding me? The cops!" Greg exclaimed, a wide smile on his face as he looked at John in confusion. "What in the world did you do?"
"Well I woke up at five and heard footsteps outside my door. Of course I attacked whoever it was before I realized that I was about to strangle Sherlock. I had asked him to babysit but he was creeping around, Hamish called the cops and we somehow managed to talk our way out if it." John admitted.
"Well that's a heck of a story to tell at your wedding." Greg suggested with a laugh. John groaned, as nice of a suggestion as it was, he just wasn't in the mood to hear about his future from Greg Lestrade. The guy hadn't even seen them together, how on earth could he think they were destined to get married?
"I'll leave that to you I guess." John groaned. Finally some customers showed up, ending their awful conversation before it got started. The day was slow, only his second day and John still felt like he was trapped in a never-ending swarm of misery, the type of hopelessness that was only caused by a terrible job. Costumer after costumer, asking questions, whining, trying to put too much onto the little conveyer belt or trying to hold up the line asking if a particular product was vegan or not, they were just miserable people. Greg seemed to be having a good time watching his anger brew; even though he actually had to do work today Greg still didn't seem to be having a bad time. John only wished he could share his optimism. John groaned loudly, wanting to bang his head against his cash register until he passed out. Thankfully his line was getting down to the last person or so, maybe John could get a little bit of a break once the last moron checked out.