(4/4) When they got home, Sherlock went to the sofa immediately and curled up, his eyes closed. John brought tea and sat next to him. (His steps were curious, bordering on worried; he only made one cup of tea; was he going out–?) “Sherlock,” he murmured.
The way he said Sherlock’s name made the detective’s will crumble and he leaned toward the other a bit. “Hug me,” he mumbled, his forehead against his knees.
(List of base ten Harshad numbers: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 12, 18, 20, 21–)
John didn’t sound offended or disgusted, but Sherlock didn’t risk repeating himself. “Nothing,” he muttered as he leaned away again. The next thing he knew, he’d been wrapped in warm, strong arms and there was a cheek against his hair. He froze but gradually relaxed with a quiet sigh.
(–63…)
“Is this what you’ve been needing?” John asked. He sounded a touch amused.
(63…)
Sherlock considered lying before deciding against it. He nodded a little, not wanting to shift and make John move.
(…)
“You’re a ridiculous git, you know that?” The older man laughed quietly, but the sound wasn’t mocking.
“What do you mean?”
“You could have /asked/ like a normal person would. Is this why you’ve been so tense lately? Have you been getting /any/ physical contact?” Sherlock nodded to the first question but chose not to answer the second. “Jesus, Sherlock. Why didn’t you ask?”
Sherlock opened his mouth, excuses such as John’s claim of not being gay, the fact that it was just transport acting up, and his image as a cold detective bubbling up. They didn’t get further than that. “Unnecessary,” he finally murmured, closing his eyes to memorise the sensation.
“Apparently it’s quite necessary.”
“It won’t happen again.”
John paused before shifting a little, which made Sherlock cringe. Was he pulling away? No. John tugged Sherlock’s arms up and wrapped them around himself before hugging him again. “Well, if you’re sure you won’t want help again, best make it a good one.” The doctor rested his cheek against Sherlock’s shoulder now that Sherlock was taller than him again. “You know I don’t mind this, right?”
Sherlock blinked and looked down at John, confused. “But you aren’t…”
Amusement shone in John’s eyes. “Doesn’t mean I’m so insecure I’ll say no to a hug or a cuddle.” He squeezed Sherlock a bit. “Especially when my best friend needs it. If I asked you, you’d be okay with hugging me. Yeah?”
“Yes,” Sherlock answered, a bit hesitant. “But that’s different. You’re not… You…”
“I’m not what?” John gave Sherlock a look. “The world’s only consulting detective?” Apparently Sherlock’s silence was enough of a clue that John took the guess a step further. “You think this is going to ruin your image.” Sherlock gave a terse nod. After a moment that made his muscles tense, he heard John laugh. “Silly bugger.”
He couldn’t see Sherlock’s answering smile, but there was no way he didn’t feel the way Sherlock relaxed against him as they stayed close together for the rest of the evening.
Re: All Sherlock wants is a hug
When they got home, Sherlock went to the sofa immediately and curled up, his eyes closed. John brought tea and sat next to him. (His steps were curious, bordering on worried; he only made one cup of tea; was he going out–?) “Sherlock,” he murmured.
The way he said Sherlock’s name made the detective’s will crumble and he leaned toward the other a bit. “Hug me,” he mumbled, his forehead against his knees.
(List of base ten Harshad numbers: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 12, 18, 20, 21–)
“What?”
(–24, 27, 30, 36, 40, 42, 45, 48, 50, 54, 60, 63–)
John didn’t sound offended or disgusted, but Sherlock didn’t risk repeating himself. “Nothing,” he muttered as he leaned away again. The next thing he knew, he’d been wrapped in warm, strong arms and there was a cheek against his hair. He froze but gradually relaxed with a quiet sigh.
(–63…)
“Is this what you’ve been needing?” John asked. He sounded a touch amused.
(63…)
Sherlock considered lying before deciding against it. He nodded a little, not wanting to shift and make John move.
(…)
“You’re a ridiculous git, you know that?” The older man laughed quietly, but the sound wasn’t mocking.
“What do you mean?”
“You could have /asked/ like a normal person would. Is this why you’ve been so tense lately? Have you been getting /any/ physical contact?” Sherlock nodded to the first question but chose not to answer the second. “Jesus, Sherlock. Why didn’t you ask?”
Sherlock opened his mouth, excuses such as John’s claim of not being gay, the fact that it was just transport acting up, and his image as a cold detective bubbling up. They didn’t get further than that. “Unnecessary,” he finally murmured, closing his eyes to memorise the sensation.
“Apparently it’s quite necessary.”
“It won’t happen again.”
John paused before shifting a little, which made Sherlock cringe. Was he pulling away? No. John tugged Sherlock’s arms up and wrapped them around himself before hugging him again. “Well, if you’re sure you won’t want help again, best make it a good one.” The doctor rested his cheek against Sherlock’s shoulder now that Sherlock was taller than him again. “You know I don’t mind this, right?”
Sherlock blinked and looked down at John, confused. “But you aren’t…”
Amusement shone in John’s eyes. “Doesn’t mean I’m so insecure I’ll say no to a hug or a cuddle.” He squeezed Sherlock a bit. “Especially when my best friend needs it. If I asked you, you’d be okay with hugging me. Yeah?”
“Yes,” Sherlock answered, a bit hesitant. “But that’s different. You’re not… You…”
“I’m not what?” John gave Sherlock a look. “The world’s only consulting detective?” Apparently Sherlock’s silence was enough of a clue that John took the guess a step further. “You think this is going to ruin your image.” Sherlock gave a terse nod. After a moment that made his muscles tense, he heard John laugh. “Silly bugger.”
He couldn’t see Sherlock’s answering smile, but there was no way he didn’t feel the way Sherlock relaxed against him as they stayed close together for the rest of the evening.