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There was an uneasiness in the pit of John’s stomach and despite his best efforts, he wasn’t quite managing to ignore it. This relationship, (if that was indeed what it was?) was going to deteriorate and John wasn’t prepared to let that happen. Sherlock seemed happy enough with their arrangement, not that any official ‘arrangement’ had been made but John was hungry for affection.
It had always been the same, after every solved case, Sherlock had been so wound up on adrenaline that John had run out of ideas to calm him, except for one. That one idea that just wouldn’t go away no matter how hard he tried to deny it. Nearly three months ago John had taken Sherlock to the pub for post case pint and they had both drunk a bit too much. Sherlock on the booze was quite a sight and sound for that matter. That deep baritone developed an adorable slur and John thought things he really shouldn’t have about his flatmate.
Though slightly staggering and slurry, Sherlock did not calm. Back at 221B he paced, ranting about everything and anything. John’s head started to hurt and he did the one thing he’d been avoiding even thinking about for quite some time. He grabbed those long, smooth lapels and tugged Sherlock down for a full on, open mouthed, probing tongues kiss.
Much to John’s surprise and delight, Sherlock reciprocated with all the passion and force of a man long denied the carnal pleasures, fueled by enormous amounts of adrenaline . It was a wild ride and it was repeated with every solved case, from then till now. They had done almost everything two people can do without previous planning and it was glorious.
However John wanted, no needed to be cuddled sometimes and to cuddle back. He wanted closeness of a less physical sort too. He wanted a proper relationship. They never stayed the whole night together, they never talked about their relationship or what it meant, where it was going? John realised he was thinking some of the same words previous girlfriends had said to him, girlfriends he hadn’t been that into. This did not help his mood.
Maybe Sherlock just didn’t do affection, maybe he didn’t really feel the way about John that John was increasingly feeling about him. He went to bed, leaving Sherlock reading, muttering goodnight.
The nightmare was probably brought on by his bad mood but it had still hit John hard. It had been several months since the last one and he had been hoping they were gone for good. He woke with a start, a film of quickly cooling sweat on his brow and a racing heart.
John groaned and went to turn over when a movement caught his eye. Sherlock was stood in the doorway, the darkness making him look taller and thinner somehow.
“Nightmare.” John’s voice was rough with sleep. “I’m ok, go back to bed.”
“Let me stay with you.”
It wasn’t a question, not really, it didn’t seem to give John the option of saying no and he didn’t want to say no. For a split second he wondered if Sherlock had deduced how he’d been feeling.
John pulled back the covers and held them up for Sherlock to climb in.
John couldn’t have wished for a better answer to all of his worries. Sherlock held John like a precious, breakable object that night. He caressed, he kissed, light and gentle, every part of John’s body, tracing the lines and curves of his body with deft fingertips. He sighed and murmured of love and John melted into that voice.
As John’s mind and body slowly shut down, contented and loved in a cocoon of pale flesh and sandlewood, Sherlock spoke once more.
“Tomorrow we go public, we’ll make this official.”
John’s eyes flew open in shock.