John Watson and the Sociopath

Chapter 9

John and Sherlock burst through the door of 221 Baker Street laughing hysterically. They had just solved the case in which the daughter had killed the mother, and were still high off of adrenaline. They tried to stop giggling as the stumbled up the steps to 221b. When the reached their flat, John set about making tea, and Sherlock started doing... whatever it is Sherlock does. When the kettle began to whistle, John poured two cups- one with milk in it, for himself, and the other with sugar, for Sherlock. He brought it into the den and sat on the couch, placing Sherlocks tea next to him as an invitation. Sherlock obliged, and rose from his chair to sit with John on the couch, taking his tea as he swiveled gracefully to sit down.

They talked over the case, and after a few minutes of chatting, Sherlock cleared his throat and began, "John I'd wanted to keep this relationship strictly professional, but I can't help but notice the obvious, that you are a part of my work," he went on as he fiddled with the deer stalker he had removed from the mantle. He took a deep breath, trying to stop the color that had risen quickly to his cheeks. "I have strong feelings toward you..." John smiled, trying to coax out the real words. "Is that so?" He asked. Sherlock shrugged and nodded.

"I love you. Obviously John! Had it not occurred to your little mind?" John chuckled at the reaction he had often gotten out of the insane detective. He took Sherlocks hand in his own and raised it to his lips, placing a sweet kiss into his palm. "I know, Sherlock, I know."

Sherlock removed his hand with John's grasp, moving it to rest his hand on John's cheek. The shorter man moved closer and rested his head in the crook of Sherlocks neck. They sat there for a few minutes before Sherlock cleared his throat. "Yes," John said. "I love you, too, Sherlock!" Sherlock smiled and stood to move into the kitchen. John followed and got out some vegetables and meat, setting them on the counter. Sherlock looked at them questioningly until John noticed and said, "Lets be dull... we are making dinner together."

Once they'd finished cooking, they sat at the table and ate in silence, the sounds of forks poking at the glass plates filling the room. John kept sneaking peeks at Sherlock once he'd finished. The taller man had all of three bites and had gone into his stationary position, fingers steepled under his chin and his eyes cosed. John took this moment to observe him. Such a beautiful man he is, he thought. Dark hair, making his skin look like ivory. Long, slender fingers. Too skinny. "Sherlock, I really think you should eat a bit more, yeah?" He prodded. Sherocks eyes opened and he frowned. "I'm thinking. "

"Is it more important than your health?" Sherlock smirked at his doctor. "Is anything more important than your health?" John asked, exasperated. In response, Sherlock smiled sweetly and said, "Nothing is more important to me than you!" John blushed to his ears. Kiss up, John thought as he pulled Sherlock up by the collar of that blessed purple shirt and dragged him into the living room. He shoved the man of brilliance into a chair gingerly.

Sherlock looked upon the man he had yearned for since he saw the tan lines on his wrists. John straddled his waist and leaned in for a satisfying kiss. His breath hitched when the fluttering in his stomach became too much. Sherlock pulled back for a breath and craddled Johns cheek in his palm. "I never expected this afternoons events to end up like this." He flushed deep red. "Its just you and me now." John winked and loosed the famous blue scarf from around the brilliant mans beautiful neck and at the same time, kissing Sherlocks jawline sensually. Sherlock shuddered, and unusual heat flooding his body.

Sherlock, being inexpirienced, did not know what to do with his hands as John expertly sucked on his neck. He placed them, palms down, on the arms of the chair. John paused for just a moment to chuckle; Sherlock was so nervous! The former army doctor leaned back on the lengthy legs of the beautiful man before him to look into those iridescent eyes. "Why so nervous?" He whispered alluringly as he repositioned himself on Sherlocks legs.

"I'm not nervous. That would insinuate being intimidated and I am not intimidated by you, doctor." John held back a giggle. "It's all right, we can take it slow." Sherlock muttered under his breath as John slid off of his lap and landed on the couch beside him. He turned on the telly and sighed dramatically. A moment passed, and he sighed again, even louder. Sherlock grabbed him and pulled him close enough so that Johns head would lay on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, love," Sherlock started. "You are the first person I have ever loved-" John clamped his hand over Sherlocks perfect mouth. "I am your first and I will also be your last!" John said in one breath and blushed to his ears at the end. He started to stand, but stopped when Sherklock pressed his head back down onto his shoulder gently.

"Please stay." He pleaded as he took Johns hand into his. "I'll never leave. I can't, you've gone and gotten me emotionally comprimised." Sherlock winced at his choice of words. "'Emotionally comprimised?'" John mocked, but Sherlock took it as a question.

"Absolutely. No going back from here. Besides, I consider myself married to my work." John raised his eyebrows. Sherlock ignored it and rubbed John's arm, a smile spreading across his lips.

"John, you are very... interesting."