Sherlock had been acting oddly for weeks. He alternated between moping on the sofa and bouts of intense staring at John, his strange focus interrupted only by cases. On cases, he was his usual manic, hyper-focussed self, but when the puzzle was solved and the case cracked, he fell right back to spending alarming amounts of time just watching John with an inexplicable, almost distressed look on his face.
One of the things about John that made him a perfect flatmate for Sherlock was that he had a very long fuse when it came to strange antics. As long as it wasn’t damaging property or putting either of them in danger, he could put up with quite a lot. He comfortably ignored Sherlock’s weird staring, going about his usual business. Still, the staring became increasingly difficult to ignore as it continued. It was unlike Sherlock to spend so long on a single thing. Whatever experiment or data collection he was running, it seemed out of the ordinary for it to go on for so long. It was nearly a month of the staring before John just had to ask.
“Why’ve you been staring at me?” John asked. He’d just been making some toast and tea for breakfast, and he was now seated in his armchair. Sherlock had watched him the whole time.
“Have I been staring?” Sherlock asked with a flippant shrug. He still hadn’t taken his eyes off John.
“Yeah, kinda. You’ve been watching me for weeks. Getting a bit creepy.”
It was like flipping a switch, John mused, as all intensity faded out of Sherlock’s gaze. Sherlock sat back, glancing deliberately away from him, scanning the room for something else to focus on. He leaned back over the arm of his chair, one long arm stretching out to grab a book off the study table. His eyes shifted to John for a second, then he opened the book to the middle, suddenly appearing to be deeply absorbed in the story.
John peered at the cover, lifting an eyebrow. “Love’s Secret Sniper.” He read with a dubious frown. “Yeah, you’re not actually reading that.”
Sherlock flipped to the cover with a look of surprise. “No, I am.” He said after a moment. “It’s… a classic.”
“It’s really not. It’s a trashy romance novel. I’m pretty sure Mrs Hudson accidentally left it up here. Stop trying to avoid me, here. Why’ve you been staring at me?”
Cover blown, Sherlock carelessly dropped the book to the floor with a huff. “I don’t know. What do you want me to say, John? It’s an experiment? I’m collecting data on the average middle-aged British male? I can’t take my eyes off you because I want you?”
The words would have sound mocking if it weren’t for the way Sherlock’s eyes widened at his own words, as though he hadn’t meant for that to come out at all. They stared at each other for a moment over the shocked stillness.
John cleared his throat. “Yeah.” He rasped. “Yeah, that works for me.”
He got up, stepping towards Sherlock. Sherlock regarded his approach with a look very much reminiscent of a deer in the headlights. “Wait! John, wait, please.” John halted, and Sherlock scrambled to his feet, shaking his head. “Yes, it’s true, I want you.” He confessed. “But this is a bad idea. I’m not- I won’t be good to you. I’m a terrible boyfriend. Ask anyone.”
John shook his head with a small smile. “I know what you’re like, Sherlock. It doesn’t scare me, and I don’t want you to change. I want you, just as you are.”
Sherlock nodded, looking relieved yet a little resigned. John took no notice of this, tugging Sherlock closer by his hips and leaning up on his toes to press their lips together in a perfect first kiss.
((So this is my little take on the prompt, which can also be found on Ao3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/16864324 let me know if you want me to update it on here as well))
Red Sky in the Morning
One of the things about John that made him a perfect flatmate for Sherlock was that he had a very long fuse when it came to strange antics. As long as it wasn’t damaging property or putting either of them in danger, he could put up with quite a lot. He comfortably ignored Sherlock’s weird staring, going about his usual business. Still, the staring became increasingly difficult to ignore as it continued. It was unlike Sherlock to spend so long on a single thing. Whatever experiment or data collection he was running, it seemed out of the ordinary for it to go on for so long. It was nearly a month of the staring before John just had to ask.
“Why’ve you been staring at me?” John asked. He’d just been making some toast and tea for breakfast, and he was now seated in his armchair. Sherlock had watched him the whole time.
“Have I been staring?” Sherlock asked with a flippant shrug. He still hadn’t taken his eyes off John.
“Yeah, kinda. You’ve been watching me for weeks. Getting a bit creepy.”
It was like flipping a switch, John mused, as all intensity faded out of Sherlock’s gaze. Sherlock sat back, glancing deliberately away from him, scanning the room for something else to focus on. He leaned back over the arm of his chair, one long arm stretching out to grab a book off the study table. His eyes shifted to John for a second, then he opened the book to the middle, suddenly appearing to be deeply absorbed in the story.
John peered at the cover, lifting an eyebrow. “Love’s Secret Sniper.” He read with a dubious frown. “Yeah, you’re not actually reading that.”
Sherlock flipped to the cover with a look of surprise. “No, I am.” He said after a moment. “It’s… a classic.”
“It’s really not. It’s a trashy romance novel. I’m pretty sure Mrs Hudson accidentally left it up here. Stop trying to avoid me, here. Why’ve you been staring at me?”
Cover blown, Sherlock carelessly dropped the book to the floor with a huff. “I don’t know. What do you want me to say, John? It’s an experiment? I’m collecting data on the average middle-aged British male? I can’t take my eyes off you because I want you?”
The words would have sound mocking if it weren’t for the way Sherlock’s eyes widened at his own words, as though he hadn’t meant for that to come out at all. They stared at each other for a moment over the shocked stillness.
John cleared his throat. “Yeah.” He rasped. “Yeah, that works for me.”
He got up, stepping towards Sherlock. Sherlock regarded his approach with a look very much reminiscent of a deer in the headlights. “Wait! John, wait, please.” John halted, and Sherlock scrambled to his feet, shaking his head. “Yes, it’s true, I want you.” He confessed. “But this is a bad idea. I’m not- I won’t be good to you. I’m a terrible boyfriend. Ask anyone.”
John shook his head with a small smile. “I know what you’re like, Sherlock. It doesn’t scare me, and I don’t want you to change. I want you, just as you are.”
Sherlock nodded, looking relieved yet a little resigned. John took no notice of this, tugging Sherlock closer by his hips and leaning up on his toes to press their lips together in a perfect first kiss.
((So this is my little take on the prompt, which can also be found on Ao3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/16864324 let me know if you want me to update it on here as well))