A/N: The alternate title for this is 'How Sherlock fell in love with his flatmate.' It's a little one-shot window into Sherlock's thoughts before DMMWw. If you don't know what that is, I suggest you go and read the Sherlock/HP crossover in my Stories before coming back to read this. It won't really make sense if you read this one first; I'm serious. Also, this is a song-fic. *looks outside and hisses* Why does it have to be sunny when I feel like absolute crap?

DISCLAIMER: If I owned this series, most people wouldn't want to read/watch it. Alas, I do not and no matter how much I deduce I will never own them. Thank Sir Arthur Conan Doyle for these characters as well as the BBC for modernizing Sherlock to make this sort of thing even possible... I don't own the song I put in here!

WARNING: This is an Alternate Universe. If you did not catch the drift within the A/N, let me point it out in big, bold letters. THIS IS A YAOI FIC. As with all my warnings, if you do not like slash or the pairing mentioned above, stop reading and click the back button. It isn't that hard to do. Reading any farther than the third line of this warning means one thing only; you enjoy slash. Excellent. If you appreciate a good story even if it's not your thing, then you're welcome to it. Appreciation of a nice bum and denial! Plus kisses.


Next to You

Sherlock never put much stock into music; excluding his violin and his own compositions, of course. But this song hits a little closer than he would like expressing his confusing feelings for John. Yes, feelings and Mycroft's assistant (whose name was Gwyneth right now) had taken pity on him when he'd described the vivid sensations.

"You have a common case of love." she'd stated simply, "You want to spend more time with him, touch him in a manner unfamiliar to you and you stare at him more than is entirely necessary."

"I do?" he frowned, his mind searching out the specific moments. Sherlock smiles at the memory of watching John sleep on his shoulder after the last crime they solved. "I suppose I do. But why John and why now?" She'd laughed and shook her head, eyes never really leaving her Blackberry.

"That's for you to figure out, Sherlock."

Two 'o clock and I wish that I was sleeping

You're in my head like a song on the radio

All I know is that I got to get next to you

Sitting here turning minutes into hours

To find the nerve just to call you on the telephone

You don't know that I got to get next to you

The truth strikes him as he's involved in another complicated experiment. He curses softly, knowing John's fallen asleep in his chair watching the telly again. Sherlock smiles softly as he lifts John, blanket and all, taking him upstairs to tuck him in. As a split-second decision, he presses a kiss to John's forehead. John hums and murmurs his name, "Sh'lock..."

"Yes?" He's greeted with quiet breathing and John's slack features. "Of course it's John. No one else would express concern for me even in their sleep save my flatmate." Sherlock goes back to his experiment and even cleans up after himself before realizing that it's entirely out of character. He leaves the Petri-dish on the table before stretching out on the couch, dropping into a light doze.

He snaps awake when he hears movement coming from the kitchen.

"Morning, Sherlock." John greets him, the tawny-flecked hazel lingering more than is necessary. Is it his imagination or are the tips of John's ears a bit red? He shakes his head at his fanciful thoughts and takes his cup of tea with his usual aplomb. "Oh, not again. Do you even know what is in this?"

"Blood platelets. I was trying to see if they reacted to vinegar." he explains, inexplicably pleased when John gives an exasperated sigh.

"Did you even attempt to clean up?"

"No." he lies with a straight face, sipping his tea as he recieved a text from Lestrade.

Need your help.

He frowns at his smartphone, knowing that Lestrade usually doesn't bother to sign his texts.

Will be there shortly. Don't touch anything. -SH

Lestrade texts the address and he takes another swallow of his tea before John leaves. Sherlock enjoys the view of John's bum, looking at his bullet holes in the wall adjacent to him when John turns back to scoop up his keys.

"Have a nice day, Sherlock." He refrains from wishing the same on his flatmate, but barely. Sherlock thinks to himself that this is ridiculous. He tells John everything and John thinks it's brilliant. Why wouldn't he think the same of this?

Maybe we're friends

Maybe we're more

Maybe it's my imagination

But I see you stare just a little too long

And it makes me start to wonder

So baby call me crazy

But I think you feel it too

Maybe I, Maybe I

Just got to get next to you

It takes the next few months for him to realize that there was no right way to say it; he was in love with his best friend, his only friend. Even Donovan had started to notice and that meant he was being too obvious. He pulled back on the lingering touches, the heated stares when John wasn't looking. He felt like poisoning something. Nothing was on hand and so he settled for making Anderson extremely uncomfortable at the crime scene, venting his frustration on the hapless man.

Mycroft cornered him while he was out buying more nicotine patches.

"Gwyneth tells me you're interested in your flatmate."

"That's none of your business, brother." he snarls, his hackles raised as the elder of them smirks. "He's... different." Sherlock can't help the smile that appears whenever he thinks about John. "John probably doesn't feel the same way but this is my life, Mycroft. I can fall in love with anyone I want to." Their conversation is so low that no one could possibly hear them up on the roof of the abandoned warehouse his older brother had brought him to after his shopping trip.

"Love? Isn't that a bit strong?" Mycroft's tone is dismissive and that irks Sherlock.

"No, it isn't." he declares, confident in that answer at least.

I asked around and heard that you were talking

Told my girl that you thought I was out of your league

What a fool, I got to get next to you, whoa

Yeah it's five in the morning and I can't go to sleep

'Cause I wish, yeah I wish that you knew what you mean to me

Baby let's get together and end this mystery, oh

It's not ethical. Sherlock knows this is a very big faux pas when he eavesdrops on John and Mrs. Hudson's conversation. But since when does he care for social conventions? It's entirely John's fault.

"I can't think about anyone else lately. He's always on my mind."

"Who, dear?"



"I... I can't explain it. I could swear he's been touching me more than he touches anyone else. But why would he even look at me? I'm so far out of his league that whatever I have for him is laughable..." John says, misery plain in his voice.

"Is it, dear? I think he might have the same feelings." His flatmate laughs at that, a small smile back on his face.

"No, he couldn't. He's got enough problems without me adding onto them."

He mulls over the conversation more than he usually does, picking it apart and analyzing it with more than attention than he should. Sherlock shoves it aside to solve another case. But then he catches the longing glances John sends his way and feels warm inside. He smiles more, just to see John's blinding grin in return. Sherlock's careful not let too much show through.

Maybe we're friends

Maybe we're more

Maybe it's my imagination

But I see you stare just a little too long

And it makes me start to wonder

So baby call me crazy

But I think you feel it too

Maybe I, Maybe I

Just got to get next to you

It's his jealousy that causes him to poison the sugar. That's what he means to stick with as John goes over to 221 A to borrow their sugar. He growls under his breath when John leaves with their green-eyed (startlingly handsome) neighbor. Sherlock stares at the sugar, hiding his jump by hovering over John.

"You went out with the younger one, didn't you?" he accused sharply, not bothering to hide his jealousy this time.

"Yes. He and I had a chat, actually, about how similar our flatmates are. Please tell me you didn't stick arsenic in the cinnamon. The sugar laced with rat poison was bad enough." John seems oblivious to his emotions right now.

"I saw the label." His flatmate went about clearing the various experiments (putting them on a small end table he'd bought just for that) and casually checked the milk for fingers. "I bought new milk."

"Only because you like my sopapilla." John worked absent-mindedly, humming a song he'd heard on the radio. Sherlock wants to hold John close and drink in that unbreakable happiness. "Sherlock why do you scare away all of the women I date?"

"I do not scare them away. They are too stupid to keep up with my deductions and I can't stand stupidity. Anderson is all I can take on a daily basis. You're about the only other person who can keep up with me besides this Moriarty fellow." he replies instantly, complimenting John the only way he knows how to.

"...Nevermind. Harry says you should eat more." Cobalt eyes locked with tawny flecked hazel as Sherlock cocked his head to the side as if John were a particularly difficult puzzle to solve. He saw the arousal and mentally smirked as he stood, backing John against the wall, staring at him with want. "Umm, Sherlock? The sopapilla's going to burn." John blurted, pointing to his favorite dessert. He backed off as his best friend put the dessert away in the fridge. "Sherlock, stop that."

"Stop what?" he asked, widening his eyes in a ploy for innocence.

"You're staring at me again." John snapped, practically running past him and grabbing his pajamas before closing the bathroom door. "Bugger."

"John, you're behaving like you're infatuated with me." Sherlock told him through the door.

"I am not!" he shot back venomously. Sherlock flinched at the tone, something in his chest aching fiercely. "This is one of those times that you need tact, Sherlock. Talking like this is not done in regular society." He watched John stomp out into the living room still drying his hair with the plain brown towel that smelled like him.

"John? I'm sorry." Sherlock muttered, twisting his scarf as his emotions got the better of him. "I shouldn't have pressed."

"My mind's not here right now, Sherlock. I just need some space." he sighed, scrubbing his hair with his towel. "The hours of the clinic and chasing after you does have a toll, you know."

Whatcha got to say? Whatcha got to do?

How ya get the one you want to get next to you?

Whatcha got to say? Whatcha got to do?

How ya get the one you want to get next to you?

Whatcha got to say? Whatcha got to do?

How ya get the one you want to get next to you?

Whatcha got to say? Whatcha got to do?

How ya get the one you want to get next to you?

Yeah, yeah to want to get next to you

Sherlock sits on the couch his shoes carelessly dumped over the back. His greatcoat and scarf are gone for now, hung up on their correct posts for once. He contemplates a life without his flatmate and decides he'd have to leave. It wouldn't be that hard; he was mostly packed anyway and Mycroft could stand his company for a few days while he searched for a new flat.

John comes back down and Sherlock speaks first, "John, I was-"

"Right. I do have feelings for you. It took me a bit to admit it to myself." John cuts him off and he can't even be bothered to be offended because John's still there. "Sherlock, I'll be up-front with you. What is it you want out of this?"

"I... This is highly unusual. I don't even know what it is I'm feeling. You're my favorite mystery. I can never quite figure you out." he murmurs, wracking his immense mind for the right words.

"Sherlock, I didn't mean what I said earlier. Umm... Oh, forget it." He lunged forward and kissed Sherlock, almost purring as Sherlock opened his mouth. "Mmm, was it good?" A light blush spread across his cheeks.

"I haven't had any to compare it to." John closed his mouth with a sharp click. "What?"

"You-That was your first ever kiss?" John sputtered before forming a coherent sentence.

"Yes. I really do not see why there is all the fuss about it. In fact, now that it's over with, I'd like another." He gives a purr of his own as he experiments with John's mouth and his taste (antiseptic, jam and tea mixed with something purely John).

Donovan's jaw dropped as they came into New Scotland Yard with interlaced hands.

"I knew it." she hissed vindictively. "Freak corrupted the Normal." John laughed at her assumption. "Think it's funny, do you?"

"Yes actually. I was the one who kissed him not the way you were so obviously thinking." he informed her dryly. "Didn't Lestrade need you for something, Sherlock?"

"I like the look. Your dry humor is what did her in, I see." Molly Hooper spluttered as she sprayed her coffee out of her nose. "The coroner as well? Hmm, maybe I should let you tag along on some of the more boring cases." John rolled his eyes and tugged on his hand, headed in the right direction. "John... You're ruining my fun." he pouted, trying to hold in a laugh.

"That's the point, genius." he murmured fondly, pressing him against one of the boring beige walls. "I'm a jealous bastard, Sherlock, so don't even think about it." He stared down at John before leaning down to steal a soft, warm kiss. "Hmm, can never get enough of you."

"Did you call me by a pet name?" he asks, warmed by the thought.

"Maybe." he defended, smiling when Sherlock answered him with a wry grin.

"I like it." Detective Inspector Lestrade cleared his throat as he opened the door right beside them. "Yes, Lestrade?"

"You're going to like this." An eyebrow rose as Sherlock leaned into John's touch, resisting the urge to purr like a cat as his boyfriend manages to reduce his snark.

"Boring. Skip to the good part already, Lestrade." He huffed, rolling his eyes. "And don't put Anderson on the case. His stupidity is contagious in a way I don't like."

Maybe we're friends

Maybe we're more

Maybe it's my imagination

But I see you stare just a little too long

And it makes me start to wonder

So baby call me crazy

But I think you feel it too

Maybe I, Maybe I

Just got to get next to you

Yeah, yeah, yeah

I got to get next to you

Sherlock glances at his lovers and wonders what he's done to deserve such warmth.

"Too much thinking." John mutters as he nuzzles against Sherlock's shoulder.

"You always tell me that." he chuckles into the downy multi-colored hair.

"Go to sleep, Sherlock." Severus murmured from his back. Harry snuffled as he wriggled closer, sighing as Sherlock stroked back his hair.

"I love you."

"Love you too, kitten."

Ending A/N: Soooo, yeah. The only reason this even exists is because of the title song. Uh-huh, you read that right. As always, folks, review!