Johnlock Fanfic

One of them doesn't know if the other likes them, and the other is sure that the other is just shy and afraid to admit their feelings. But in the end, everyone's happy.

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2. Chapter 2

When the silence began to weigh on Sherlock's shoulders, he chose to speak up. "Penny for your thoughts?" he said, watching as John jumped a little at the sound of his voice, the little bit of his drink sloshing around in his cup.

 

"Nothing. The...street light just caught my attention. I thought I saw something, but it was just a shadow casted by the light," he explained.

 

However, it didn't convince Sherlock. The brief pause ruined everything. He didn't know whether or not he should press the matter. He looked at what the outcome would be of each option. Asking what really was distracting him could cause him to be angry or annoyed. But that would mean that the subject was sensitive, and as far as Sherlock could tell John wasn't exactly sad or bothered by something. But maybe this one time Sherlock had missed something. Maybe his feelings were blocking something from his vision this time. However, if he didn't look into it then, IF John indeed had something on his mind, his feelings would remain bottled up and never left out. He could become sad or other, and Sherlock wasn't looking forward to see a sulking John. Sherlock wanted to see him happy and smiling, or in his army uniform....NO! He shook the thought—as pleasant as it was—from his mind.

 

"Ah okay," Sherlock said. "Now tell me what's really on your mind." He watched John as he turned to look at Sherlock.

 

John frowned and refused to confess that something was up. "Nothing, Sherlock. If you want to know so bad, why don't you deduce me?"

 

Sherlock felt a pang of guilt. He shouldn't have bugged John. This was another thing. He usually thought what he did or asked was the logical thing to do. He didn't really understand emotions too well, they were confusing. He also didn't know that sometimes what he said was wrong. "I'm...sorry."

 

John sighed, a smile tugging on his lips. Sherlock didn't understand, but the sight made him feel all weird, the hairs on his arms raising as a shiver rain down his spine and back up again. That warm feeling in his gut returned, and he felt better.

 

John tilted his head to the side. It wasn't very often he heard 'I'm sorry' from Sherlock, other than the times he had apologized to Molly. He was appreciative all the same, and even admired the look of Sherlock's scrunched eyebrows. It was utterly adorable. He smiled to and tried to hide the blush he was sure was rising on his cheeks. John, unlike Sherlock, wasn't ashamed to think thoughts like that. Well, not that Sherlock was ashamed. He was more shy than anything. Sherlock's shyness and the fact that he wasn't quite ready to admit his sexuality had John going crazy.

 

"It's alright," John replied. What Sherlock didn't hear was the 'love' added onto the end of the sentence.

 

Throughout the day Sherlock and John talked about the need for a case sooner or later so that they could collect money, but did either of them really feel the need to do more than sit at home in each other's presence? No, of course not. But did that mean that more than stares and hidden blushes would pursue? Neither were quite sure. On one hand, Sherlock felt as though he should keep to himself. He was scared to share his feelings, as he didn't know exactly what to say or do. What scared him the most was the possibility that John might leave if he confessed. WOULD John leave? Would he stay as a good friend would? Or did he feel the same? On the other hand, John created scenarios in which he and Sherlock would finally tell each other their thoughts, and they'd live happily ever after. It was too frustrating for Sherlock, so he momentarily put the issue aside while he let the pleasant thoughts of John pour in. Holding his hand in public, being held by John while they fell asleep, or John showing off in his uniform. That damned uniform, Sherlock thought. He sighed. As if any of it would happen. As night fell, and John and Sherlock were asleep, they both had some dreams. While John was frolicking in a wheat field—he had the oddest dreams—Sherlock was experiencing anything but a nice time. He stood in front of a tall building, and without much thought, realized it was the one he had jumped from. However, he was confused. If he was supposed to relive the moment, he should be up top...

 

He scanned the building, and there, on the edge, stood John.

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