John knows Sherlock gets bored very easily. Whenever they haven't got a case or he is stuck on a particular detail of an experiment there is not a thing in the world that John can say to alleviate his boredom. So far, it's just been inanimate objects that take the brunt of his temper, but John worries that it might escalate. He could tell that Sherlock needed to be alone with his thoughts this morning, so he went out to do the shopping. He ended up just wandering around London because he had already done the shopping the day before. John figured that enough time had passed that Sherlock should be able to tolerate another persons presence. He arrived at 221b a few minutes later, a bag from the local butchers in his hands, some sausages for dinner.
"Sherlock?" John calls as he walks up the stairs to their flat. "Are you home?"
"Of course I am!" Sherlock yells.
John could tell he was in one of his bored moods. He sighs; this was not going to be pleasant. He opens the door to find an almost comical sight. Sherlock wasn't on the couch in his usual "praying to the gods of deduction" pose, as John liked to call it. He was lying on the floor on his back, arms and legs splayed out, looking like he was about to make a snow angel. John chuckles softly, this was certainly new. He tries to make his way to the kitchen to put the sausages in the fridge but Sherlock is in the way, and it looks like he has no intention of moving. John tries to step over him but Sherlock moves his leg at the last second and nearly makes him fall over. John grips the wall for support.
"Look, I know you're bored because we don't have a case, but could you at least try to be somewhat civil? It's not my fault that you've probably caught all the criminals in the London area." John sighs. "Get up, you look like a bloody starfish, and why would you want to do that, hmm? Starfish have no brains so it's hardly an animal that you would want to impersonate."
John has found that the best way to deal with Sherlock's bad moods is to use humor, even if Sherlock practically gives him cancer from his death glares. It may not be what Sherlock wants him to say but it certainly diffuses the tension of not saying anything. Sherlock gets up from the floor so fast he's just a blur of long limbs in perfectly tailored clothes. John finally manages to get past him and into the kitchen. He puts the sausages in the fridge and makes some tea. When he comes back into the sitting room Sherlock has resumed his usual pose on the couch. John sets down Sherlock's tea on the table and sits in his favourite armchair.
"How about we watch some telly?" John suggests.
Sherlock makes a guttural noise that could only mean no.
"Come on Sherlock, there has got to be at least one movie that you like. What did you watch as a kid? You had to have watched something!"
John doesn't really know why he is trying to get Sherlock to open up about his past; it's obvious that he has no interest in television, and probably never has. John thinks it has something to do with the fact that he hardly ever sees Sherlock do anything human. He barely eats or sleeps, so knowing that he used to at least watch Teletubbies as a kid would be like reassurance that he is, in fact, human. But, of course, Sherlock gives him only silence.
"Fine, don't tell me. Just sit there and be bored, I'm sure whatever's inside that brilliant mind of yours would be far more interesting than anything that's on the telly anyway."
John gets up to go put his empty cup in the sink. He's almost to the kitchen door when he hears Sherlock mumble something unintelligible. He sets his cup down and then comes back.
"What?" John asks.
"When I was a child..." Sherlock trails off. He has a look on his face that John can't ever remember him having before. It almost looks like embarrassment.
"Go on, Sherlock." John encourages.
"When I was a child I always used to watch James Bond films with Mycroft, then he told me he wasn't real and I didn't talk to him for months." John has to strain his ears to hear what Sherlock is saying, his voice hardly above a whisper.
"That's actually quite cute, Sherlock." John says, a grin slowly spreading across his face.
If John hadn't known better, he could have sworn he saw Sherlock blush.
"Well, how about we do that then? I'll go rent a James Bond movie. Have you seen the new one with Daniel Craig?"
"No, I haven't." Sherlock has a timid smile on his face, it's not a smile that John's seen before and he rather likes it.
"Ok then, I'll be back in about 10 minutes, there's a video shop a few streets away." John says while walking away to grab his coat.
Then, suddenly Sherlock is by his side.
"I'll come with you."
They exit the flat together, Sherlock walking rather close to him. It was not unpleasant; in fact, John quite liked it. They got a few looks, like always. The looks that said, "You two are totally a couple", the looks that John always denies. Suddenly, he realises that Sherlock never has. He doesn't even bat an eyelash when Angelo assumes they're on a date and brings a candle over. John wonders if there is a reason for Sherlock never denying that they're a couple. He's still deep in thought when they reach the video store. Sherlock practically drags him through the door. They split up in search of the James Bond movies.
"John, found them!" Sherlock calls loudly, getting a few odd looks from other customers.
John walks over to where he heard Sherlock's voice, and sure enough, there is a wall covered in every single James Bond movie ever made. Sherlock has the two new Daniel Craig ones in his hands and a third one that John can't see the title of.
"What's that one?" He asks, pointing to the one he doesn't recognize.
"Just one of my, um, personal favourites." And this time he is sure he sees a little blush in Sherlock's cheeks.
John couldn't contain his smile if he tried, and Sherlock smiled back. They walk up to the counter to pay for the movies, laughing about something utterly ridiculous.
"Having a movie night are we?" Says the check out attendant.
"The correct term is "are you", not "are we", because you are obviously not invited." Sherlock says, his usual air of superiority returned. John just sighs and pays for the movies, ignoring the look the cashier is giving Sherlock.
They walk out of the store just as close as they were before. John doesn't give it too much thought this time, he really doesn't mind. It's all fine, after all. He's starting to realise that there might be something behind Sherlock's timid smiles and the fact that he never corrected people; he decides to test this theory tonight. As soon as they're back at the flat they pop a film in, the first one with Daniel Craig. John had never actually seen Sherlock pay attention to the telly as much as he did now. His eyes were practically glued to the screen. He didn't even bother to comment when one of the stunts was particularly outrageous. John went about testing his theory. Over the course of the first movie he shifted progressively closer to Sherlock, just a few millimeters every couple of minute. Half way through the first movie their shoulders were touching, it sent an electric sort of thrill through John. Sherlock still seemed completely engrossed in the movie, to John's surprise. Since John had already seen this one quite a few times with Harry, he found himself drifting in and out of the story. He was mainly focusing on Sherlock. He seemed genuinely happy, which is a rare phenomenon. John, taking the experiment one step further, rests his head on Sherlock's shoulder. This time there is certainly a noticeable change, a sharp intake of breath by Sherlock. John soon realises that Sherlock's heart is beating much too quickly, and it is not because of the movie. John tilts his head up at the same moment that Sherlock tilts his down; theirs lips only a few centimeters away.
"What are you doing?" Sherlock asks, his voice is even but it is deeper than usual.
"Just testing a theory." John says with a smirk.
"Oh? What theory would that be?" Sherlock's voice, if it was possible, became even deeper.
"I'm trying to find the reason why you never deny we're a couple. You don't need to answer, I already know. I don't know why it has taken me this long to notice."
"Neither do I." Sherlock says.
John leans up, eliminating the few centimeters between them. Their lips meet; it's only a brush, the lightest of touches. Then, Sherlock makes a noise like a hungry animal and pulls John in for a proper snog. How long they do this for is a mystery, time seems to utterly stop, the only indication of its passing the sounds of gunfire and cars tyres screeching from the telly.
The movie was completely forgotten, but neither of them really minded. They had a far better activity planned.