SA: JohnLock

Being exposed and living with certain types of people for any amount of time was known to have effects on people, especially when that certain type of person was the enigma known as Sherlock Holmes. Dr. John Watson was no exception to this, and after being a flatmate and acquaintance to the infamous detective, he had found that his own skills of observation had been sharpened.

Over the past few days, the doctor had noticed subtle changes in Sherlock’s behavior. The detective, despite his peculiar quirks, was acting more unusual as of late. He frequently left the room as soon as the doctor entered, was speaking less and less to him, and John had the nagging feeling that perhaps Sherlock was hiding something from him. Quite frankly, it was getting on the army doctor’s nerves. The doctor had been walking down Baker Street, his pace swift as the brisk February air nipped at his face. He buried his face down more into the collar of his trench coat, trying to keep himself as warm as possible as he ended toward 221b. He fished through his pocket for the apartment key, eventually procuring it as he inserted it into the keyhole, turning the lock before he pushed open the door.

After entering the apartment his sense of smell was immediately met with the scent of something burning, a grimace making its way onto John’s facial features as the short man shut the door, making his way further into the apartment. A thought of surprise over how Mrs Hudson could burn food flitted through the doctor’s mind as he began heading toward the kitchen, clearing his throat before he spoke out right before entering. “Mrs. Hudson? Is everything okay?”

“I would have thought that you would have figured out that I had the anatomy of a male between my legs, John.” Sherlock’s dry and sarcastic voice bit through the air, the detective himself turning as he faced his friend with an unamused glare. “Sherlock? What are you doing?” The shorter male asked, approaching the man he was rather fond of with a pace that implied he meant no harm. Why the detective had not run out of the room yet, he was unsure. Sherlock was an enigma to say the least, but it more erratic than usual behavior had been getting to him. The army vet hated to admit it, but as the time he spent with Sherlock continued to increase, the more he found himself beginning to grow fond of the peculiar consultant.

Dr. Watson knew that falling for a ‘high functioning sociopath’, and one that leaned toward cruelness and cold-hearted actions at that, could potentially lead him to crashing and burning with a broken heart, hence why he had kept any and all emotions and thoughts regarding the detective to himself. He knew that he was playing with fire, an uncontrollable flame, and one that may very well be able to deduce his feeling. John recalled how Sherlock had deduced that Irene Adler had developed romantic feelings for the very same detective just based on pulse rate and the size of her pupils, so he could only desperately hope that his own body was not sending off those same signals.

John had finally figured out just why it had secretly bothered him so much whenever people assumed that he and Sherlock were in a relationship- It was because he wanted it, but he knew it was nigh impossible with the detective. He didn’t ‘swing’ that way, to be quite frank, John wasn’t sure whether he swung any way romantically. In a rare moment of confessional honesty, Sherlock admitted that he was in fact asexual, with the potential of being demisexual. The doctor had had to look just what that meant, and upon finding out, he had felt crushed. Not because Sherlock wasn’t interested in sex, no, it was because he had misinterpreted it as him being rendered hopeless. He stood no chance. It had seemed that Irene was the only potential love interest for Sherlock, and she was now out of the picture. Sherlock was seemingly uninterested in John becoming anything more than a friend, and now it seemed that he was avoiding the doctor.

“Apologies, Sherlock, I had not known that it was you in here, cooking.. Well, I assume that was what you were trying to do?” John finally spoke, curiously opening up the over from where the burning smell was coming from. “Excellent observations skills, Dr. Watson. For an idiot.” Sherlock snapped, rolling his eyes as he slammed the over door shut again. He shot John another, more vicious, glare along with an irritated sigh, shutting off the oven as he removed the latex gloves he had been wearing with his usual attire. “What were you trying to do? Maybe I could help-” “Unnecessary. That won’t be needed.” Sherlock cut off harshly, snapping his gloves into the nearest wastebasket as he abruptly turned on his heel, heading out of the kitchen to make his way into their living room.



John heaved a sigh as he only watched Sherlock leave, weighing the option of heading after the detective, or if he should simply leave the eclectic man to his sulking. Upon recently he always allowed Sherlock to storm off, but he had had enough. He willed his legs to move as he followed suit, watching as the frustrated genius flopped onto the couch and crossed his arms. “Sherlock?” John started slowly, going to seat himself in the chair adjacent to the couch.

"What do you want, John?" Sherlock asked in an irritated sigh, glancing back at John with an angered pout. "I just.. I want to know, why have you been avoiding me?" John asked straightforwardly, an inkling of a feeling in the back of his mind that perhaps Sherlock had caught on to the emotions he had been harboring for the detective. Perhaps that was why he had been avoiding him for fervently, and why Sherlock had been harsher than normal with him.

"I like you, John." Sherlock said after a few moments, causing the ex army doctor's heart to skip a beat as he met the blank gaze of Sherlock's with a partially confused stare of his own. 'That is not what you think it means, John." John tried rationalizing, trying to quash any flickers of hope that had been sparked.

Sherlock observed John's inner turmoil that was etched across the doctor's features, curiously placing his hands together once he had sat up on the couch. John managed to glance up at the detective, swallowing as a nervous chuckle escaped him. "Very funny, Sherlock.. Must you always toy and observe my emotions as your experiment?" He finally asked, Sherlock only cocking a brow as he processed John's words. "I meant that in no humorous manner, John."

John fell silent yet again as he glanced away, unsure of what to say as he then sensed Sherlock get up and cross over to him. "John. I have noticed. Your vocal changes, eye movements, the increase in pulse rate.. You change around me, and the signs you are giving off all point to your romantic attraction toward me. I am disappointed that you have not deduced that I seem to feel the same." Sherlock stated, reaching down and tilting up John's face.

"You.. You're just.. Experimenting with me." John said after a few moments, completely disbelieving of the situation as the faintest of blush dusted his cheeks. Sherlock stared down at John, leaning down slowly before he pressed his lips against the doctor's in a deep and slow kiss. After a few seconds he pulled away, leaving the doctor breathless as his lips twitched up into a light smirk. "Was that experimental, then?" He asked, scoffing quietly at the dumbfounded expression on John's face.

John remained quiet as it sunk in just what it was that had happened, afterwards biting his bottom lip gently to hold back the flurry of questions now buzzing in his mind. "I suppose I owe you an explanation, just what it was made me realize the 'emotions' I felt for you. By you always remaining with me despite the.. Trivial shit I put you through, by becoming my one friend, by caring.. I suppose your persistence broke down my mind palace, for I find you there now often. I care for you, John Watson." Sherlock explained, his voice dry and academic despite the words that he was speaking.

John watched Sherlock for a few long moments, trying to deduce whether Sherlock's body language gave off any signs that the man was lying. After coming up dry he glanced back at the kitchen, trying to deflect what what just confessed to him as he was still unable to accept it. "What.. Did you burn? What were you trying to do?" He asked, his voice shaky as his gaze found its way back to Sherlock.

"I was attempting to make one of those cakes as a sign of affection. It's Valentine's Day, you know. But I have decided it is a fairly ridiculous ploy by corporations. I highly doubt St. Valentine intended for his name to be associated with ridiculous chocolates and flowers exchanged between pathetic lovers." Sherlock told, shrugging casually as he waved it off. "I thought that perhaps you would enjoy such menial notions, but I suppose-"

John had finally stood up, leaning up while grabbing hold of Sherlock's scarf to pull the detective down. pressing his lips against Sherlock's to cut him off. After a few moments he pulled away, rolling his eyes as he laughed softly. "Shut up. You talk too much. I.. I love you." He finally murmured, humming happily as Sherlock leaned back down and left another small kiss on John's lips. "I love you too, John."