John wasn’t sure at what point this had happened. He wasn’t even sure what it was. All he knew was that at some point it had become less about chasing Sherlock across the country to put away criminals and more about just chasing Sherlock, being with him all the time.
To say that these feelings that had come upon John were a shock was something of an understatement. He had always considered himself straight, had never even thought about a man the way he did about Sherlock, but the genius was so far from the norm that John felt he probably shouldn’t be surprised about it. He was still sure that he wasn’t gay, or even bi, but Sherlock was an exception, always had been actually. It wasn’t like the man had ever fit in with the normal rules of society.
John let out a wry laugh which made Sherlock look up from the newspaper that he was skimming through for new cases. John didn’t even bother trying to hide the emotions on his face. He wasn’t sure that he could to begin with and even if he tried Sherlock would just read it from him.
Sherlock studied his companion for a moment, his eyes warming, and a quick smile crossed his face before he went back to his newspaper. The taller man knew of John’s feelings for him, of that he was certain. It didn’t bother John though. When they had first met Sherlock had said that he didn’t do relationships but over time, and especially recently, Sherlock had been opening up to John more and more; letting him get close and trusting John not to hurt him. It made John’s heart warm to know that he was the only one who saw this side of the detective.
It was small gestures at first; texting John if was he going to be back late or clearing his experiments off of the kitchen table so that John could eat there without worrying about being poisoned. Of course, John would still find various limbs in the bottom of the fridge sometimes, but it didn’t matter because Sherlock was trying, something he had never done for anyone else for as long as John had known him.
Sherlock put the paper down with a huff and John looked over at him sensing what was coming.
“A case, John. We need a case,” the dark-haired man said with annoyance shining through in his voice. It had been just over a week since they had closed their last case and Sherlock was starting to get restless again.
“Alright, I’ll see what I can find,” John said, putting down his cup of tea (made from tea bags which Sherlock had bought as an apology for blowing the last lot up in a failed experiment) and getting his laptop out and sitting down on a low-backed armchair in the sitting room with the computer on his lap.
“Okay, how about this one? Man, aged 39 found dead in...” John broke off as Sherlock came up behind him to read over his shoulder. John could feel the other man’s heat against his back and Sherlock’s cheek was only a hair-breadth away from his own. John was sure that if he turned his head his lips would end up pressing against the soft pale skin of Sherlock’s cheekbones. John had to fight hard against the temptation to do just that.
Sherlock let out an unimpressed grunt and moved his arms around either side of John so that John was enclosed in what was almost like a hug, but in reality was just Sherlock trying to access the laptop.
The detective quickly went through the potential cases, dismissing them without much thought. Or at least it looked that way, but John knew Sherlock well enough know to know that the genius was probably solving them on the spot and then moving on. John sat still, content with just the overwhelming scent of Sherlock that was surrounding him. It was rare that Sherlock let anyone this close to him and John treasured every moment of it.
The shrill sound of Sherlock’s phone broke through the comfortable silence and the man answered it moving away and leaving John feeling slightly bereft.
“Lestrade,” John heard Sherlock say as a greeting into the phone and he smiled; looked like Sherlock was getting his case. John watched him from across the room with an expression of what he was sure was something akin to adoration but he couldn’t find it within him to care that he was turning into a sap.
Moments later Sherlock was back, grasping onto John’s hand and pulling him up from his seat, then dragging him towards the door of their flat with their fingers still interlaced.
“Come on, John. We have a case to solve,” the detective told him, filling him in on what Lestrade had said. At one point in time, John might have protested about Sherlock hauling him about all over the place with no concern for what John was doing at the time. Right now though, John wasn’t going to complain at all as Sherlock hailed a taxi with one hand and clutched John’s tightly with the other, showing no signs of letting go any time soon.
Yes, John thought, he had made an exception for Sherlock Holmes, but it didn’t matter because Sherlock had made an exception for him too.