A Study In Him (Teenlock)

Holmes Manor

Sherlock mindlessly watched the telly while John sat slumped, asleep, leaning on his shoulder. John's cheek was already looking better, and he doesn't seem to need the ice pack anymore. Sherlock wanted to move, but John finally looked at peace while he slept, and the future detective couldn't bring himself to disturb him.

Sherlock glanced down at the sleeping John. It was meant to be just a peek, but he found himself unable to tear his eyes away. John is just...Adorable.

Carefully, Sherlock lifted a hand and ran his fingers through the boy's blonde hair. So soft and fluffy, just nearly completely dried off.

"Mmf...Sherlock?"

Oops.

"S-Sorry, John, I just--"

"Shh, stop apologizing," John looked up at his friend, those ocean blue eyes filled with meaning, "It's okay."

John seemed to have just noticed where he was leaning. He sat up, clearing his throat, embarrassed.

"It's okay, John. I didn't mind."

John looked at him gratefully. Everything was just so messed up nowadays-- they didn't know where they stood in a relationship, if there was one at all. At times, it seemed like there was something there, but John could never be sure. But whenever John thought maybe there was nothing going on, he remembered that night...

"What time is it?" John interrupted his own train of thought.

"Uh, almost 6 pm, why?"

"We should eat. Got any food?"

"Yeah, let me take a look."

Footsteps echoed through the hall, and Mycroft turned the corner into the area. Sherlock was rummaging through the cupboards, and John stood awkwardly on the shag carpet.

"Ah," Mycroft glared at John, remembering the face which walked in on him and Greg, "He's here."

"Yes. Family issues. He's staying with us. Problem?"

After a long pause, Mycroft walked into the kitchen, "No. Just keep it PG."

"Only if you and Greggy keep it under-R," Sherlock teased, earning a scowl from Mycroft.

"What are you even doing in here?" Mycroft asked suspiciously.

"We were watching the telly," Sherlock countered, "Well, I was. He was asleep."

Sherlock pulled fish fingers out of the freezer, "Ah, these! I know what we'll eat-- an old Holmes recipe!"

John sat back on the couch and waited for Sherlock to finish this "recipe". When the tall boy made his way back into the sitting room, somehow managing to hobble over, he placed the fish fingers on the table next to a large bowl of yellow icing-looking stuff.

"...Is that...Custard?" John asked warily.

"Yep!" Sherlock took a fish finger and dipped it in, "Our dad's been making this for us since we were little!"

John exhaled, "Another thing to add to the list of your weird antics..."

Sherlock smiled, mouth full of fish fingers and custard. John gingerly took a fish finger and dipped it, tasting it with custard.

It wasn't actually that bad.

"Better than expected," John murmured through bites. Sherlock smiled slyly, obviously wanting to make a comment but stopping himself.

Mycroft snuck a slice of cake and retreated to his bedroom. Sherlock and John finished their snack and decided to head upstairs.

John walked slowly so Sherlock didn't get left behind. "When d'you think you'll be better?" He asked worriedly.

"Soon I'll be able to walk with just the cast, no crutches," Sherlock smiled, "Don't worry about me John."

Once upstairs, Sherlock pushed open his bedroom door. Inside, John's eyes widened. There were papers thrown all over the floor, and science experiments underway in one corner. The future doctor tried not to step on anything, since they looked important.

Sherlock's bed was unmade and flattened on one side. He had weird-looking things in jars on his drawer, and his own bathroom.

John didn't even want to know what was in there.

"Sorry about the mess," Sherlock rummaged around in a cabinet, throwing more papers on the rug.

"S'okay," John mumbled, in awe.

"Ah, got it," Sherlock pulled an iPhone dock out of the cabinet. He placed it on the drawer, shoving what looked like a jarred brain out of the way, and plugged in his phone.

He played soft violin music and proceeded to search through books and papers.

"You like music?" John asked awkwardly.

"I like the violin. That's my own composed piece, you know."

"You play? Wow..." John listened to the expertly played music.

Sherlock gestured to the windowsill, where a violin rested, perfectly cleaned and polished.

"I see."

John just stood awkwardly under the door frame. Sherlock looked up, "Close the door."

"...Why?"

"I prefer it closed. Makes me feel more secure. As you know, I'm a privacy person."

"Alright," John stepped forward and closed the door.

"What're you looking for?"

"Something interesting. No luck," Sherlock threw up some papers in frustration, "I'm just...Bored!"

John just nodded, not sure what to say.

"Everything is dull. Make me un-bored, John."

"H-How?" He stammered.

Sherlock stood up, letting a book fall to his feet. He advanced, closing the gap between himself and John until it was a mere inch.

"You know how," he whispered, sending a shiver up John's spine.

Sherlock tipped John's chin up, making John's deep blue eyes meet his own bright green ones. He snuck his hand forward to lace his fingers with John's, lifting an eyebrow.

John was jelly in his hands.

Slowly, he leaned down and forward, his lips meeting John's. He smiled against the contact as he felt John admit defeat.

He was all Sherlock's now.

The future detective reached around and lifted John up, the future doctor wrapping his legs around Sherlock's waist. Not breaking the kiss, Sherlock carried John over and dropped him on the unmade bed, leaning over him.

The taller boy, leaning on the bedframe for balance, moved down to bury his face in the crook of John's neck.

"Ugh...Sherlock..." John tried to stop him, still getting used to the happenings.

"Shut up," Sherlock breathed in John's ear. To ensure John didn't protest further, Sherlock reached down to teasingly place his hand on John's nether regions.

John clutched the bedsheet, feeling the contact.

Just then, the doorbell rang, a loud soung echoing around the big empty house.

Sherlock sighed and stood up, balancing on his crutches again. He smoothed his shirt and ran a hand through his own hair, heading to the door.

John, head spinning, processed what was even going on.

Sherlock looked downstairs as Mycroft opened the front door.

"Oh...Hello."