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They were in for a long and awkward cab ride. He could tell that much already. They’d been riding for a good while and John hadn’t even looked at him, much less spoke to him. It had been like this all day actually. They hadn’t spoken to each other on the way to investigate the abandoned factory their newest client had mentioned or even during the investigation for that matter. And they most definitely weren’t talking to each other now.
He tried to ignore the nagging notion that something was wrong, but the silence between them had grown unbearable, almost deafening. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand it quite frankly. Even though he knew it was impossible to actually go deaf from the absence of sound, Sherlock couldn’t help thinking it. There was virtually no other way to possibly describe the terrible quietness that had fallen over them and that was starting to make him panic inside.
Any other time here of late, Sherlock would have enjoyed the quiet cab ride as it gave him the peace he needed to think. Especially about his recent feelings regarding John. He couldn’t exactly describe how he was feeling at the time, since he was no expert on emotions. More accurately, he barely understood them at all. However, he was aware of the physical changes that overcame his body, and that gave him a rough estimate of what he had been presuming.
Lately, whenever he was around John, his pulse would accelerate and his palms would grow sweaty. Those he knew were signs of being in love. But...he couldn’t possibly be in love with John, could he? Sure he may have been experiencing the physiological changes and possibly had some thoughts about kissing him. Not to mention the fact that he couldn’t seem to keep his emotions in check around him anymore. John awakened something inside of him that he couldn’t even begin to describe, like nothing that Sherlock had ever felt before. And even though he had no clue what it was, he loved it. The indescribable sensation that flowed through his body whenever they were together. It gave him the same exhilaration as a case involving an unusual murder.
They were just best friends though and nothing more. Besides, John made it perfectly clear to everyone that he and Sherlock were indeed, not a couple. So even if he was in love with John, he most likely didn’t feel the same way about him. Not that Sherlock blamed him though. He could be very hard to live with, but at the same time he couldn’t really help it. It was just a part of him that he couldn’t change, no matter how much he wanted to.
At this point though all Sherlock wanted was for John to talk to him. To put the events of earlier behind them and go on as if they never even happened. It was merely wishful thinking on his part though. The silence continued to drag on and as much as he hated to admit it, that worried him.
It wasn’t that silent cab rides were unusual or even concerning for the most part. There were many times when they didn’t talk on the way to or from their whereabouts. Either from exhaustion or just lack of words, it didn’t really matter. It was never awkward before, but this time was different. It was what had went down between them earlier today that made this time time different, Sherlock realized. Unlike the other times, today they were actually angry with one another.
It had all started when John came home from the store. As usual, he ended up buying the milk himself and came home to find Sherlock working on another bloody experiment. The way he always was whenever John returned. It was nothing out of the ordinary, but for some reason it had gotten to be too much to bare and John snapped.
“You never do a bloody thing to help around here!” he’d yelled at Sherlock.
“Well if you gave me an idea of what you wanted me to do, maybe I would!” he’d shouted back instantly defending himself. Knowing it was no use to push the point further John left it slide and put the groceries away. That’s when he’s found the cigarettes.
“You’ve been smoking again.” he didn’t phrase it as a question, but rather as an accusation.
“I ran out of a nicotine patches,” Sherlock responded simply.
“What else haven’t you told me.” John demanded.
“Let’s see...I blew the microwave up last week during an experiment, I’ve hidden your laptop and I may taken some heroine a few nights ago…” he responded
“Damn it Sherlock! You bloody git. Why the hell didn’t you tell me!” at this point, John had grown frustrated beyond description.
“Because every time I do, you act like this.”
“Like what!” John shouted.
“Irrational.” Sherlock said.
“Irrational...” John said, “I’m the irrational one? Well ex-cuse me, Sherlock Holmes, but I’m not the one who disappeared off the face of the earth for two years without so much as one word!”
“Oh so we’re back to that now are we!” Sherlock yelled.
“Well you never did tell me why you did it,” John huffed.
“Yes, I did. I told you that I did it to protect you!”
“Then you went on to assume that I wasn’t trustworthy enough to protect your secret!”
“I already explained that to you too. If you hadn’t been so busy running your mouth maybe you would have listened…”
He couldn’t remember what had been said after that. Only that they’d gotten into a full-blown shouting match that ended with the slamming of doors and John declaring that he was never coming back to Baker Street again. Sherlock hoped with all his heart that wasn’t going to be the case and that John didn’t mean it. But he also knew he wouldn’t be able to change it if he did. So the only thing left to do was hope that they could get everything settled so that it all went back to the way it was before.
John gazed out the window watching as the raindrops gently meandered down the glass before gliding swiftly to the bottom. He bit his lip, wishing there was something he could say to break this awful silence between them. Anything. It was killing him inside and even though he knew Sherlock would never admit it, he could tell that it was starting to work on the consulting detective too. Sherlock wouldn’t even look him in the eyes which was highly unusual. Even if they weren’t speaking, Sherlock would always gaze over at John. Like he was watching his every move. John never understood why he was so fascinating to Sherlock, but just learned to accept it. His best friend was quirky to say the least. Yet at the same time, that was one of the many things that made John love him so much.
John sighed to himself. He wanted to tell Sherlock how much he loved him, but he was afraid of how he would react to such a proclamation. After all, they weren’t really on speaking terms at the moment, and he didn’t want to say anything that might jeopardize their already dwindling friendship. And Sherlock tended to act irrationally about a lot. It was damn near impossible to even guess what may set him off. He probably didn’t feel the same way about him anyway. In the time that they had lived together, John had never known Sherlock to express any form of romantic interest in anyone whatsoever. So what would possibly make him any different? John may have been the person Sherlock was closest to and all, but for him to have romantic feelings for John just seemed illogical. He was Sherlock Bloody Holmes after all.
Although he knew it was useless, John couldn’t help but hope that he had it all wrong. That Sherlock may feel the same way about him. Just because John denied that he and Sherlock were together, didn’t mean that he didn’t want to be with Sherlock. He just didn’t want people getting the wrong idea about them. And if it happened to be true that they ever were together...well...he wouldn’t have any reason to deny it.
Shaking himself from his thoughts and coming back to reality, John decided to break the reticence between them.
“Sherlock,” he said at last hoping to grab the younger man’s attention.
“John…” Sherlock started, a look of hurt passing through his eyes, “I...don’t even know where to begin. I am so sorry. I said a lot of things I didn’t mean earlier. I’ve been an awful friend. Not just since faking my death, but ever since we first met. I’m sorry...I don’t even know why you put up with me really,” he began
“Not only am I stubborn, but I hurt people. I’m tactless and I’m terrible at reading emotions. I rely too much on nicotine and drugs to keep myself from getting bored. And you’re right, I experiment too much and never do anything to help and I’m just an awful person overall.”
“Sherlock, it’s fine,” John said, trying to stop him from getting worked up and rambling on like he did before when he was upset.
“No, it’s not okay, John,” Sherlock continued, tears welling up in his eyes “for two years I didn’t even bother to call or text you. I kept telling myself that I was keeping my distance to protect you, but the truth is I was afraid you might not want to see me. That you’d turn on me and call me a freak and a psychopath just like everyone else and…”
“Sherlock, that’s enough. I...forgive you,” John held up a hand to stop him, but Sherlock continued on, visibly crying now.
“And when I came back and you punched me, refusing to talk me. I thought everything inside of me would just shatter. I’m sorry John, I really am. You deserve better than me. I’m not even as clever as I want people to believe, I’m always missing something and getting clues wrong an…”
Before he could drivel on anymore, John cupped a hand behind his neck and pulled him closer. Staring into his flatmate’s emerald-like eyes, John pressed his lips against Sherlock’s, cutting off the rest of his apology. The kiss was impulsive and not at all intentional. John didn’t even know why he did it, really. He wanted to stop Sherlock’s incessant rambling and that was the first thing he thought of. Surprisingly, the detective parted his lips slightly, allowing the doctor to have full range of his mouth. The latter took full advantage of this, noting that there were still traces of smoke and tea lingering on the younger man’s breath. Although John didn’t approve of the smoking, the combination was purely Sherlock and for once he was grateful for that. Something that he normally would have taken advantage of now aroused great appreciation within him, and he could not comprehend why. Maybe it was because he wanted to claim every part of Sherlock for himself. Or maybe it was just that he loved the irksome git so much that even his vices seemed beautiful to him. Regardless of the reason, it was astounding how one kiss could change so much.
The two of them pulled away at last, neither of them speaking for quite some time.
“That is definitely not what I expected,” Sherlock breathed recovering from the unexpected interruption long before John, his face betraying no emotion.
“Are you mad?” John asked feeling the blood rush to his cheeks. Part of him wished he never kissed his best friend to begin with while other half yearned to grab him by the shirt and finish the deed. Either way, there was no way of taking it back now that it had happened. So John just held his breath, praying that he hadn’t just screwed everything up.
“No,” Sherlock shook his head, a smile crawling onto his face. “That was uh, that was very nice.”
It was John’s turn to grin and he couldn’t stop himself from doing just that, “So you liked it then?”
“Yes,” Sherlock laughed, “very much.”
“I’m glad,” he said, before taking a deep breath and confessing everything to him. “I love you so damn much, Sherlock. You can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, yes but I can’t help myself. I’m in love with you. All of you. You’re the smartest, most amazing, beautiful man I have ever met. Even your flaws are beautiful. Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me, and I’m so sorry that I caused that huge argument between us. I didn’t mean what I said earlier. I was just angry. I’m not leaving Baker Street and I’m not leaving you. I can’t bare the thought of losing you aga…”
Sherlock cut John off by joining their lips again. “I believe it’s my turn to tell you to shut up,” Sherlock chuckled briefly, his eyes turning serious again. “I love you too, John,” he said at last. “More than you’ll ever know. I can’t even begin to describe how in love with you I am. And you really don’t need to apologize. The argument was my fault, not yours.”
“No, Sherlock. It’s mine,” John insisted, “please do not argue with me on this. I think we had enough of that for one day.”
Sherlock couldn’t help but laugh at that, “I think that is definitely something we can agree on.”
Another, very brief moment of silence passed between them again, but this time it wasn’t awkward in the least. And it didn’t last long before Sherlock spoke again.
“I’m guessing that this means that things won’t be the same with us as it was before,” he said.
“Not quite,”John agreed pressing his lips to Sherlock’s once more, “what we had before is going to turn into so much more.”