Sherlock was confused, and this the detective, and everyone else around him would reluctantly admit, was not something that happened. Occasionally he would be side tracked or encounter something that he had not been aware of, but once he realised its existence, a new challenge for him, he would figure it out in moments. But this time he was well and truly stumped. He couldn't work it out. His mind couldn't come up with the right conclusion, it couldn't unpick the puzzle that was presented to him, he couldn't translate what was being said to him. He had spun it through his mind at least fifty million times and he could not reach the correct conclusion!
So, he had reluctantly been forced to seek out opinion on the matter, someone who was more experienced and informed in this situation, an expert that could perhaps help him unravel the mystery confusing him so and help lead him to the correct deduction finally. Though according to his expert for this situation he would need specialist equipment.
"Do you want biscuits with your tea dear?" Mrs Hudson smiled.
"Do you have hobnobs?" Sherlock asked hopefully.
"Of course, John mentioned that you like eating them," Mrs Hudson chuckled as she shuffled back over to the sofa with a plate of biscuits for them, going back to bring two cups of tea over. "Now, tell me what's happened," She patted his hand comfortingly before she took a sip of her tea. Sherlock huffed and slouched down at the table, unconsciously pouting a little at his cup.
"I can't figure out what's wrong with John, and it is distracting me from cases," Sherlock huffed.
"Something is wrong with John?" Mrs Hudson frowned concerned.
"He is being…weird and I cannot figure out why!" Sherlock explained irritated.
"Weird in what way?" Mrs Hudson was clearly settling down to help him with this, though he ignored the look that flashed across her face clearly saying 'what have you done now'.
"Well, we bumped into someone that I went to university with at the crime scene Lestrade called us to this morning, we had a conversation with him and then we made our way to the crime scene. John began to get quiet then and he appeared angry, though in that way where he becomes quiet and really still. Then while we were at the crime scene Sally made another comment as to my personality and called me a freak, but then John began shouting at her quite furiously. He does not like the way Sally and Anderson talk to me, but he has never had this reaction before, he completely ripped into her and called her out on unprofessional behaviour at a crime scene when her senior officer had requested my presence. No one really knew what to say, myself included, so I carried on looking over the body and the crime scene, and John stuck really close to me the entire time, much closer than he normally does. Since we left he has been incredibly quiet and angry though he made me a cup of tea which would indicate he is not in fact angry at me, though he did glare at me when I tried to refuse eating the sandwich he made me for lunch. Then when Mycroft showed up earlier and made a dig about me not caring about anyone but myself John shouted at him too, Mycroft! He's been fuming as he read through the diary of our victim and I cannot deduce why he is so angry!" Sherlock rambled out the events quickly, waiting patiently as Mrs Hudson blinked a few times trying to absorb the stream.
"Oh Sherlock," Mrs Hudson smiled suddenly, clearly having figured out what was going on.
"What?!" Sherlock asked annoyed.
"What did you speak with the man from your university about?" Mrs Hudson asked, a note of patience in her tone.
"Well we greeted each other, he asked what I was doing there so I informed him I was a consulting detective for the police, he mentioned that I had always been a weirdo in university always figuring things out about the other students and that he wasn't surprised to hear that I was working around dead people but that the police wouldn't hire me properly, he informed me that he is the assistant director of his business and that he was engaged, he also implied that he is not shocked that I do not have anyone in a romantic sense, and then John said that we had to go to the scene of the crime and shook his hand, though he squeezed tightly given the indication of pain that Matthew tried to hide," Sherlock listed. "So do you know what's wrong then?" he pushed impatiently.
"Sherlock, John cares a lot about you, he was angry that this Matthew man was speaking to you like that. He really does not like anyone talking to you like that," Mrs Hudson smiled.
"But…why is he still angry," Sherlock frowned.
"Sherlock when someone loves you they become angry for you when you are disrespected or treated badly. It has annoyed and angered John before, I think today having both this man and Sergeant Donovan speaking to you like that again was the nail in the coffin so to speak," Mrs Hudson said softly placing her smaller, frailer hand on top of Sherlock's.
"Love…" Sherlock frowned testing the word out on his tongue as he started unravelling things in his mind, now that he had a theory he started placing it to the facts that he had.
"Yes Sherlock, he loves you," Mrs Hudson said surely.
"Thank you…I need to…" Sherlock stood absently and made his way over to the front door.
"Good luck dear, and I do hope you calm John down before he tells anymore officers off. Just don't be too loud!" Mrs Hudson waved him out.
"Supper," John grunted thumping the two plates down onto the table before sitting heavily down in his own seat indicating he was still angry. Sherlock opened his eyes slowly from where he was lying on the sofa in his thinking pose, deciding it would be a decidedly bad idea to ignore John, or try and refuse to eat his supper. Rolling off the sofa he padded over to the table and sat down opposite his flatmate and only friend peering at the man curiously as he started picking at his meal, John was determinedly eating without looking at him.
"Why do you love me? I have been trying to figure it out and I can't, you are almost completely straight with only a few experiments when you were in college," Sherlock asked halfway through the meal. Sherlock realised that they had probably spent too much time together when John barely flinched at such a personal question, just paused in cutting up his meal and lifted his eyes to look at Sherlock calmly.
"I never stopped liking men, with being in the army it was just easier to find women instead, and no other man has caught my eye since I left the army," John shrugged.
"And why me? Why do you love me?" Sherlock frowned.
"Because you're you. Because you're Sherlock," John shrugged again.
"I don't understand," Sherlock shook his head. He had figured out that yes, Mrs Hudson was right, John did love him. He just couldn't figure out why.
"What exactly don't you understand?" John asked taking another bite of his supper.
"Why you would love me, how you could," Sherlock frowned.
"Because you are Sherlock, I love you for you, all your eccentricities and late nights, violin playing, bit not good moments and so on," John shrugged before cutting another bite of his meal.
"But…I'm annoying, irritating, weird and I don't understand social interaction, how can you love me? I don't understand," Sherlock frowned huffing and slumping back into his seat.
"Eat your supper Sherlock, and I love you because and despite of those things, just like every other person that has someone fall in love with them," John said without looking up from his plate. As normal when John spoke to him with that warning tone he did as he was told and ate his supper.
"You love those things?" Sherlock muttered through his mouthful of his meal.
"Of course I do, they annoy the bloody hell out of me, but at the same time they are you and I love them, I love your violin playing in the middle of the night because it is completely you, and I love listening to you play, no matter the time. It makes you you," John shrugged finally meeting Sherlock's troubled eyes. "What?"
"I really can't understand!" Sherlock huffed slumping back into his seat. Sighing John wiped his mouth before standing and making his way around the table to Sherlock's side. Wide grey blue eyes stared up at him confused and desperately trying to read John. He let out a startled gasp when John cupped his face with both his hands and slammed his mouth to Sherlock's.
He had been kissed before of course, but never like this. John was pressing all the affection, all the love, all the lust, all the desire that he felt for Sherlock was being pressed through the kiss to him, along with the frustration, annoyance, anger and frustration that he felt for him. Finally after he had finished reading everything that John was pressing into the kiss and trying to tell him and he closed his eyes and just soaked up the affection that he was being given, the warmth that John always seemed to give out when he was near to him had turned into a fire, seeping into his skin and into his bones.
Sherlock reached up and grabbed a handful of John's jumper, another of his hideous (adorable) jumpers, and kissed back, all the feelings that had been confusingly jumbled around in his head for so long now focusing in on the kiss that they were sharing. The feel of John's strong, capable hands holding his face gently but firmly, his kiss firm but soft. Even in his kisses the soldier was two very different things, a soldier and a doctor, completely ordinary in every way and completely extraordinary. John Hamish Watson was a never ending puzzle that Sherlock could never seem to figure out, and for once he didn't want to completely come to the end of a puzzle.
"Well yes, that proves that you want me, but it doesn't explain why or how you could," Sherlock said almost as soon as their lips were parted. Against his lips John let out an amused laugh, his brown eyes glittering with amusement before he rested their foreheads together.
"Do I annoy you Sherlock?" John asked softly.
"I believe that I know enough of relationships to know that you are supposed to only tell your partner things that you like about them, and not things that you dislike or that annoy you," Sherlock frowned.
"Something which you used very well to your advantage, 'accidentally' letting slip to my girlfriends things that I didn't like that you know they did or had," John raised an eyebrow at Sherlock who looked sheepish.
"I deny it," He said but knew it as weak, he could very rarely lie to John, one because the man seemed to have a sixth sense for knowing when Sherlock was doing so - which reminded Sherlock about his planned experiment to test that theory out - and also because he could very rarely do it while faced with the doctor's wide honest, trusting eyes - which again he planned to find proof on that John did that on purpose.
"Mm hm. So you just happened to tell Lisa all about my bad experiences with the three redheads I have dated, when she was a natural redhead herself and dyed her hair black," John snorted.
"Really I did not notice that," Sherlock smiled innocently.
"Yeah right. But back on track, no it is not normally the done thing to do to say things you don't like about your partner or that annoy you, but we are hardly normal," John rolled his eyes. "We were partners before either of us realised but everyone else had,"
"Well then…yes there are small things that you do that annoy me," Sherlock said slowly.
"Such as?" John encouraged.
"Well…you get all flirty around good looking women and turn on the charm with them. You always tap your teaspoon against the side of the cup four times exactly after making a cup of tea. When you are annoyed with me you sigh loudly nearly the entire time, and you have a habit of walking out on an argument rather than discussing it - but I know this is due to the fights you and Harry used to have and that you dislike arguing for fear that something is going to be said that cannot be taken back," Sherlock assured him.
"Do those things make you feel any less for me?" John smiled.
"Well no, I find them quite endearing about you most of the time unless I'm feeling short tempered or annoyed about someth…oh," Sherlock blinked as he understood what John had done. "So you find those things attractive about me?" he smirked.
"I wouldn't say attractive, endearing was the right word," John smiled to show he was teasing. "Though I would appreciated it if you stopped playing the violin quite so late at night,"
"I may have a theory as to a way to achieve that," Sherlock said seriously, but John could see the rarely shown playfulness in his eyes.
"Oh, let me hear it then?" John chuckled.
"You my good doctor will just have to thoroughly wear me out before we go to sleep," Sherlock said and watched delighted as he calculated all the increasing signs of arousal in John.
"That's a very good theory. Though I think we should probably experiment and practise first," John nodded to himself as he snagged Sherlock's wrist and tugged him from his chair and towards the stairs.
"I also have the theory that it may make me eat more were I to work up an appetite first," Sherlock added on. John paused for a second in trying to manhandle Sherlock into his bedroom, his lust blown eyes meeting Sherlock's a sending a shiver down Sherlock's spine.
"Better get to it then," John smirked himself before he pounced on Sherlock, driving him quickly towards his bed while quite talentedly divesting him of his clothes at the same time, without breaking stride in their movement across the room. When a hot and determined mouth attached itself to his nipple on the second bounce of his body on the mattress Sherlock's eyes fluttered shut as his mind focused on one thing and one thing only, the only thing that held his attention continually.