A/N: I got into Sherlock recently, and I have a lot of directionless feels about it. Therefore: this story. This is a bit of a first stab at these guys, but I hope I served them well. Enjoy!
Word Count: 731
Warning(s): shameless fluff
When Sherlock and John began their relationship, it was an unspoken thing. There was not the brilliant, drawn out confession that John had expected. There was no shouting or doubt, as Sherlock had. One morning they'd gone to part ways for the day and John had just kissed him goodbye, not even thinking about it, just kissed him as if they did this every morning. Sherlock hadn't said a word. When John came home with an apology on his lips Sherlock had hugged him, kissed him, told him, "Welcome home," and that had been the end of the discussion that they never had.
Not many things changed due to the shift in their relationship. The Work still came first, and Sherlock continued to treat John as he always did, dragging him relentlessly across the city and constantly ordering him around. John continued to blog about it and tell Sherlock just when and why he was being an idiot. Sherlock had expected the changes to be anticlimactic at first – the scarce data he had on the subject had come from his mother, a lost cause and a dreadful marriage to a man she didn't love with children she didn't like; highschool, almost all useless and mostly deleted; and movies. Movies had led him to believe that, once in a relationship, John would suddenly become a doting young housewife who would kiss him good morning and want to hold his hand all the time and kiss him in public. John expected none of that, except for occasionally the cuddles if neither of them were working, and preferred to wake Sherlock up as he usually did – by shoving him off the couch. There weren't sweet nothings every day, or even most days, and they didn't feel it was necessary to start calling each other boyfriend-and-boyfriend. They eventually told each other how they felt in detail, how they loved every inch of one another, but it had been unspoken all the time and boyfriend sounded decidedly not-Sherlock.
There were some changes, though.
In the obvious state, John stopped pursuing women. Irritatingly, women started pursing him a lot more often when John wasn't displaying interest and John was stuck with the unhappy job of telling each of these women that he wasn't interested. At least now, he had a good excuse.
John didn't start calling himself gay, mostly because he wasn't. He would have loved Sherlock if he'd been a woman as much as he loved him as a man, or any variable in-between of those genders. Still, when asked if he was, John didn't deny it. If loving Sherlock made him gay, then gay he was.
Sherlock didn't feel it was necessary to announce that they were now of romantic and sexual relations, partially because it was none of their business and he didn't care what people thought but mostly because everyone already assumed they were anyway. If asked, they simply confirmed and went on with things without confrontation.
They touched each other more, which was probably the most obvious change. For all that they didn't change their mental behavior, their physical behavior was altered beyond repair whenever they weren't in the attention of The Public. Lestrade found himself subjected to absurd amounts of supposed-to-be-discreet-but-isn't PDA when he was alone in a room with them, because apparently he didn't actually count as The Public. Even in the attention of The Public, who John claimed to be so concerned about, there were little things – brushes of the fingertips, bumping hips and feet, secret smiles and gazes held longer than was usual before. Admittedly, this added up to a lot of staring, since their "usual before" was already longer than it should have been.
They had sex.
On an everyday basis, however, things were just as they had always been. They bickered on, John found body parts in the fridge, Sherlock complained about John's job, they fought crime and jumped on rooftops. John still drank tea and ate jam, Sherlock continued to make rude jokes about Anderson and John continued to hide his laughter. Sherlock didn't eat enough and would occasionally collapse from exhaustion, and John would always be there to put a blanket on him when he did. Sherlock still vandalized the apartment and John still got worked up and stormed out on an almost weekly basis.
Things continued as usual: atypical, nameless, and impractical.
Reviews are lovely, appreciated, and not at all an obligation.