Love is a Curious Thing - a Johnlock Fanfiction.
John awoke from a deep slumber suddenly to the sound of a loud smash coming from the kitchen below, and Sherlock cursing loudly. Hurriedly throwing the sheets off of himself and onto the floor the Doctor shoved his arms through their appropriate holes in his favorite grey dressing gown. He then proceeded to tie it quickly around his half naked body, and ran down the stairs. They creaked loudly under his bare feet and the John briefly imagined them breaking under foot. However he quickly dismissed this thought from his mind with a shudder.
As he reached the bottom of the staircase John barged through the flat that he knew all too well and made his way towards the kitchen doorway.
"Sherlock are you okaaaay. Oh." Standing in the middle of what used to be the kitchen was Sherlock. He was surrounded by dozens of cardboard boxes and the table was piled high with test tubes, books, microscopes and several human body parts which John could not identify. But John was not occupied by this at all. Instead John was staring wide eyed at the beautiful man in front of him.
Sherlock was wearing only a pair of tight boxer shorts which hinted to what was underneath and it made the Ex Army Doctor stare. However he quickly averted his gaze as he did not want to get caught staring. He already knew that Sherlock had caught him though. He didn't miss a thing that man. Reluctantly, Johns gaze travelled further up his flat mate's body and he lingered on his beautiful chest and abs. Again he quickly moved his eyes although he knew it was useless anyway. Then his eyes came to rest on the man's beautiful face. Eyes sharp and alert yet somehow soft in a way which only the good Doctor could ever got the chance to see. John knew that this was the case and it made him fill up with joy whenever he caught the gaze that the Consulting Detective saved only for John. Sherlock's hair was as neat as it could get, due to his crazy curls, because Sherlock rarely ever slept, and when he did it was only ever for a few hours. However Sherlock never seemed to tire. John wished it was the same for him. The detective's unique Cupid Bow lips were pulled up into a smirk and John realized he had been staring for quite a while.
"Erm John? A little help here?" Sherlock asked with a chuckle and the Doctor blushed at the thought of being caught checking him out.
"What's wro- holy shit Sherlock what the hell did you do?"
"I cut my arm" He said simply holding it up to the light and wincing at the sharp movement. Because John had been so busy eyeing him John had not noticed the massive gash located on his left forearm. Blood was dripping on to the floor and this served as a proper wakeup call. John started shoving cardboard box after cardboard box out of the way whilst attempting not to step on any glass. This was becoming increasingly difficult as he got closer to Sherlock however and as he got slower he got more worried that the detective was losing a lot of blood.
"Well that much is obvious!" said John annoyed whilst clambering over a particularly tall mound of cardboard boxes.
"I was experimenting." Said Sherlock to John, clearly thinking that John could work everything out just from that.
"Well in case you hadn't noticed Sherlock, I'm not you and I can't figure everything out just from that single sentence." He snapped at the Detective and he instantly regretted it.
"You're right I'm sorry John" Sherlock's eyes softened and John's heart skipped a beat at the sight.
"No don't worry I'm just tired is all." He said softly, angry at himself for shouting at Sherlock.
At this point John reached the other man and he gently reached for his arm. John's fingertips tingled where he touched his best friend's skin and he shivered at the new sensation.
Sherlock seemed to have felt it too as he sucked in a shaky breath.
John looked up at the detectives face and had the sudden urge to kiss those beautiful cupid bow lips. However he restrained himself and looked back down at the man's arm and focused on the rather deep cut located there.
Doctor John Watson and Sherlock Holmes had a somewhat curious relationship. Flat mates yes, Friends yes, Lovers no. Lots of people assumed the latter and secretly John felt very happy when this occurred. Because over the past three years that John had been living with Sherlock he had at some point, he had no idea when, it must have been gradual. At some point John Watson, Army Doctor, Blogger and Sherlock Holmes' colleague had come to the conclusion that he was gay. He was gay and completely and utterly and most probably stupidly in love with Sherlock Holmes. This was completely inconvenient when it came to moments such as now. When Sherlock was in such close proximity too John whilst he was wearing only a tight pair of boxers.
It was also inconvenient because of how often he ran into Molly.
John always had a somewhat guilty feeling whenever he associated with Molly, as it was obvious that she was in love with Sherlock. It was obvious to everyone but Sherlock and John did not intend to enlighten him on this particular subject.
John's thoughts then ran to Sherlock and their first meeting. He was pretty sure that Mike saved his life by introducing him to Sherlock. He often wondered if he would have stayed living alone if Mike had not introduced the two men. He wondered if he would have another flat mate, a boring one. A boring flat mate. Was there such a thing? If there was such a thing he could not imagine living with one. In fact he couldn't imagine living with anyone other than Sherlock.
It seemed that the Consulting Detective had subtly slipped himself into every one of John's memories, old and new, real or imagined and John could not imagine life without him. He couldn't even imagine living without his arrogance, stubbornness, his rudeness. Because as much as John didn't like to admit it to himself, he knew that without these things Sherlock just wouldn't be Sherlock and John loved every bit of him.
Suddenly, waking him from his deep thoughts was a hand on his shoulder, shaking it violently.
"John? John are you okay?" Sherlock asked him, concern filling his voice.
"What? Yeah I'm fine. Why do you ask?"
"Well I've been calling your name for the past two minutes and you didn't answer." Sherlock explained, hand still on his best friends shoulder.
"Oh, no, sorry I'm fine. I was just er thinking" Said John, his face flushing a beetroot colour. He could not let Sherlock figure out what he was thinking about. He was lucky that the one thing Sherlock was not good at deducing, was feelings.
"What were you thinking about?" Questioned Sherlock, quickly removing his hand and intertwining it with the other. John had a feeling that the Detective knew John didn't want him finding out.
Quickly John thought of an answer and immediately wanted to face palm himself for such a stupid one.
"I was wondering whether you needed stitches" Cue mental face palm and string of profanities.
John was the most grateful he had ever been that Sherlock had, for once, decided not to ask questions.
"Good I'm going to go and get the thread then" said John, into the semi akward silence. He then proceeded to run up the creaking stairs of 221B and didn't look behind him as Sherlock called his name from behind him.