The Game is On

Hidden Love Story

As time passed on, the pair managed to keep their relationship a secret. Occasionally, a mild case would pop up, keeping them busy. Nothing but silence from Anon. But they knew better than to let their guard down. The more time passed, the closer they got to John's abduction.

At 2:47 PM on a Tuesday, Sherlock's phone buzzed.

Lestrade's number.

"MEETING. WE ARE DISCUSSING ANON. MAKE AN APPEARANCE. 3 O'CLOCK SHARP."

"It's about Anon," Sherlock whispered.

"Sherlock, this could be good. Maybe they've found something."

"Those empty-headed fools? No. They want me there hoping I've come up with something. And I haven't. This is not good John."

"You never know."

"I'm Sherlock Holmes, of course I know."

The pair hailed a taxi, like they normally would, acting as if they were no more than work partners once more.

Once at the Yard, they made their way to Lestrade's office and reached it at 3:05 PM.

"You're late," Donovan scowled.

"By 5 minutes. Hardly a big deal."

"The Sherlock I know would never be late. Something's changed."

"Nothing I can pinpoint," Sherlock pointed his eyes at his feet, "Moving on."

"Lestrade says he saw you two cuddling. I think I know what's going on here."

"We weren't cuddling, we were getting over mental stress. And no, there's nothing 'going on'," John huffed in annoyance, "Can we get to the point?"

"Same thing. You're so defensive now. Before it was just 'Uh, no. No we're not.' but now you seem... Unsure."

"Shut up!" John exploded, "Just shut up alright!? We came here to talk about Anon, not be interrogated!"

Donovan said no more.

"Good. Lestrade," John motioned for him to speak.

"We just wanted to know if you've heard anything."

"I told you John, did I not? No, Anon's been silent. He will strike eventually though, and not once am I letting my guard down."

Sherlock, accidentally by instinct, grabbed John's hand on the table. John quickly jerked away.

"A-hem, yes. Sherlock is right. Keep on the lookout."

"Just like a mother guarding her baby," Donovan joked, "You two are honestly the cutest--"

"Okay!" John stood up abruptly, cutting her off, "We'll be off then."

As they passed, Donovan mouthed "couple" to finish her sentence. In return, Sherlock mouthed "whore".

After jumping out of the taxi at Baker St., Sherlock, followed by John, strode up to 221B. Sherlock held the door for John, and at first the doctor thought he was just being kind. But then he realized that's not like Sherlock at all. There was a catch. And before he had a chance to fully realize, he was shoved against the wall next to the stairway.

"Honestly Sherlock," John teased, "Are you going to assault me whenever we're alone for a moment?"

"Would you rather I do it while Donovan is standing next to us?"

"I suppose not."

With that, the detective locked his lips with John's, with the same roughness as earlier that same month.

But one sound made them both stop mid-kiss.

A rattling doorknob.

The two of them broke apart just in time, for when Mrs. Hudson managed to open the door, they looked at least half-natural.

Sherlock held his sleeve to his mouth, discreetly wiping it off. "Hello, Mrs. Hudson."

"Oh my, are you hurt?"

"Oh, no," Sherlock removed his sleeve, "Perfectly fine."

John pressed his lips to his own shoulder for a moment, "Hi."

"Hello boys. Euh... May I ask what you're doing down here?"

"Uhm," John cleared his throat, hoping the gloomy hallway was enough to hide his flushed cheeks, "We just got in, actually."

"Oh," Mrs. Hudson chimed, "Where from?"

"Scotland Yard," Sherlock said easily.

How does he do that? Act as if nothing ever happened?

"Ah. Well, I just wanted to make sure you two were okay, considering..."

She trailed off.

"Anon."

"Yes. Are you okay John?"

"Fine, thanks. We should be going."

Mrs. Hudson left as the men headed to their flat. The moment they entered the sitting room, Sherlock attempted to pin John again.

"Sherlock, stop."

"But I didn't get to finish."

"We've been walked in on enough times already."

"You have to let me finish someday."

"Yes, but not now."

"How do you do it John?"

"Do what?" John cast a puzzled look at Sherlock, who'd planted both hands in his pockets.

"You're in such danger, yet you in no way seem upset or distraught."

"I try not to think about it."

"But how? How can you not think about Anon?"

"I feel safe with you, Sherlock. Like I'm untouchable. You're my shield. I don't know why I feel like that, but I do."

"I won't let any harm come to you John. Ever."

"I know."

Later than evening, John changed into pajamas and climbed into bed. Just moments after he'd closed his eyes, he felt the covers shift and a new weight droop the bed next to him.

Without turning, he knew who it was.

"Sherlock."

"Look, John, I feel unsafe and vulnerable in my room alone, and I'm not even the one in danger. I can't imagine how you must feel. Please, just give it a try."

John sighed, "Fine."

For a while, John hardly knew Sherlock was there. He would often secretly look back, just to make sure. And there he was.

"Sherlock."

"Mm."

"I'm scared."

"I know."

Almost instantly, John felt hands snake around him, and he felt Sherlock press himself against the doctor.

"I'll shield you, John."

"I trust you, Sherlock."

Eventually, after nearly an hour, John turned around to face the detective who still held onto him.

"John."

"Sherlock."

"Can I finish now?"

"Yes, now you can finish."

In the morning, John found himself waking from the cold. He'd somehow lost the covers, and Sherlock now lay on his back, face-up, on his own side of the bed.

The detective had his eyes closed, but John knew he was awake.

"Sherlock, did we--"

"No."

"How do you know?"

"Because. I know."