Tickle Book

Beautiful

     "John, are you alright?" Sherlock asked. John kind of jumped at his voice, but quickly looked up and nodded before continuing to stare blankly at the fireplace. Sherlock, who had been watching John for the past few minutes, wasn't quite sure what to think.

     "Sherlock, I'm fine." The doctor promised a few moments later, feeling the staring eyes on his neck. Now, Sherlock may not understand human emotion very much, but he knew enough to understand that this was not "fine".

     "It really doesn't seem like you are. Please, talk to me."

     "Really, I'm good."

     A few moments of silence follow. Why in the hell wouldn't John want to talk to me?

     "Come sit with me." Sherlock offered. John looked up with a cocked eyebrow.

     "Excuse me?"

     "You heard me. Don't make me drag you off that chair."

     "Alright, alright.."

     John got himself up from his usual chair and sat himself next to Sherlock on the couch.

     "John, seriously.. what's bothering you? I want to help. You're my friend."

     "Sherlock, I told yo-"

     "Oh, don't. It doesn't take a Holmes to see that you're not okay. Just- please. Talk to me."

     John chuckled at the comment, but quickly cleared his throat. Sherlock stared at him expectantly, so you could see it as a surprise when John slowly leaned into Sherlock. 'This seems absentminded', Sherlock thought. And he was absolutely correct.

     "I just- I feel like a mess."

     "How so?"

     "Well, I-I mean... I cant really do anything right and-"

     "What?"

     "I-I'm sorry?"

     "What do you mean you can't do anything right? Sure you can. John, I'm just a sociopath. Do you understand how lost I would be without someone else? Without someone else that proves to be useful?"

     John stammered for a moment. He didn't really expect this kind of answer from Sherlock. When the hell did he become so passionate? After a few moments of silence, Sherlock spoke up again.

     "Come with me."

     "What? Why-"

     "Just- come with me."

     John hesitantly stood up from the couch, following Sherlock into the bedroom. Sherlock stopped John once they'd reached the foot of the bed and grabbed him by the shoulders.

     "You know how I always stammer on about mostly useless facts?"

     "Umm.. yeah?"

     "I have one that you've never heard before."

     "I highly dou-"

     Before John could finish, Sherlock quickly turned him around by the shoulders to face a mirror. John looked at Sherlock's reflection with confusion strewn about his face.

     "Look at this, John," Sherlock said, pointing to John's face. "this is beautiful."

     .

     .

     .

     John stammered for a moment as he stared at his reflection, and the dead eyes that stared back at him began to lighten up just a bit more.

     Worth something

     Nice

     Caring

     Beautiful

     "John? Are you alright?" Sherlock asked as tears trickled down John's cheeks. Suddenly, John whipped around and practically yanked Sherlock into a hug. Sherlock, though surprised at first, quickly hugged back. They sat like that for a long time, zero intention of moving in either of there minds.

     "Your hair tickles my neck." John muffled into Sherlock's shoulder after a few moments.

     "Oh yeah? What if I do this?" Sherlock asked as he shook his head a bit, quickly seeing a way to get John to smile. John's breath hitched as he scrunched his neck a bit.

     "Yeah, th-that's worse- Sherlock, what are you- whoa!" John yelped as the detective suddenly threw him backwards into the bed and straddled his hips.

     "Oh, I'm just making you smile!" Sherlock assured with that shit-eating grin as he trailed his fingers along John's sides. Even through his sweater, John could still feel the feather light touches. He didn't even try to mask his laughter; it's Sherlock.

     "Nohohot nohohow, plehehease!" John giggled out.

     "Well, when?"

     "I dohohoht knohow! Juhuhust not nohow!"

     "Ah, I'm afraid my schedule is completely booked except for now. See, I've got piano lessons. Which reminds me that I should get some practice in.." Sherlock teased, beginning to play John's ribs like a piano.

     "Sheheherlock, noHOHO! STOHOHOHOP IHIHIT, plehehease!" John begged, giggles kicking up a notch as Sherlock drilled in between his ribs.

     "No, I don't think I will."

     "CUHUHUT IT OUHOUHOUT! Thihihis is nohohot fuHUHUNNY!"

     "Well, you seem to find it hysterical."

     "SHUHUHUT IT! PLEHEHEASE STOP!"

     "Alright, lets take a break to avoid death."

     John panted as Sherlock took his hands away, his lips still curled into a bubbly smile.

     "P-please, get o-off."

     "I think I have to do the spot."

     "No, Sherlock! Don't you dare!"

     "I'm gonna do it."

     "Sherlock!"

     "Aaaannd..."

     John squeezed his eyes shut at this point, knowing he had no chance of escape. Sherlock smiled to himself before beginning to tickle John's underarms. John absolutely lost it.

     "SHEHEHERLOCK! PLEHEHEASE!"

     "Please what?"

     "PLEHEHEASE STOHOHOP!"

     "Why?"

     "I CAHAHAHANT BREHEHEATHE!"

     "Will you promise to stay happy for a bit?"

     "YEHEHEHEHES!"

     "I wanna hear you say it."

     "I BLOHOHODY PROHOHOHOMISE!"

     "Good. You sure?"

     "YEHEHEHES! PLEHEHEASE SHEHEHERLOCK, I CANT BREHEHEATHE!"

     "Oh, fine. Remember that you promised."

     Sherlock kept his promise as well, quickly getting off of John and sitting beside him on the bed. The sociopath looked down at the teary-eyed mess of a doctor.

     "What are you thinking now?"

     "I love you, Sherlock Holmes."