a short based on a post i made prior
How did they get there? If you’d have asked Sherlock, John was sure he’d have no answer, and if Sherlock Holmes himself didn’t have an answer, it was safe to assume there wasn’t one.Â
The only thing that was for certain also made absolutely no sense whatsoever: this was the turning point they’d silently waited for for years. The insanity of chasing criminals, the homely evenings spent in ordering from various take-outs, the yelling and fighting - not to mention the endless supply of body parts Sherlock seemed to have stored away somewhere, that he’d end up piling into the fridge, solely to give John a fright in the mornings as he went to make his tea. That was all coming to a climax, except that word didn’t quite fit as it should have.
They were in their respective seats. John, in his own head all morning and night, pretended to read the paper, and Sherlock pretended not to notice it was a day old and John had already read it the previous morning. After all, who was he to point that out? If John wanted to read something, it was his flat too, so he should be able to do so. Splitting a millisecond, John tore his glassed-over eyes from the page and looked at Sherlock, long and hard, then spoke up.
“Sherlock, there’s something I want to tell you.”
His flatmate quirked a high eyebrow, and made a sound like, “Hm?”
If he’d seemed any less interested, John might have deflated back into the news he’d read before and given up. Not now, though. Now, it was time. But...
“I can’t,” Sherlock finally looked up at him, “I’m afraid to say it out loud.”
Sherlock narrowed his eyes, and then concluded, rather excellently, “Then mouth it to me.”
John scoffed, unintentionally harshly. “Come on, Sherlock. What’s next, get Mycroft and Molly to play Chinese Whispers?”Â
His nerves were getting the better of him now. He didn’t mean to sound rude - in fact, he wanted to sound warm, and lovable, because what he was going to say didn’t need to be any easier to reject. Regardless, his tongue ran away with him, so he made a mental note to mentally slap himself later.
“I’ll have you know, I’m an excellent lip-reader.”
John caught himself before he quipped anything smart, deciding he’d done enough damage for now, even if Sherlock did seem to be taking it as a joke. In fact, Sherlock thinking it was a joke might have even been worse than him being offended, because that meant he’d assume the entire thing was a joke, and so when John mouthed it to him, he’d laugh, and John’s heart would break.
“Okay.” He settled for, then adjusted the paper he’d put on the arm of his chair, awkwardly relaxing back into the seat, “Fine. But I’m only doing it once.”
Sherlock nodded, then assumed his position of clasping his hands and resting his chin on them, leaning ever-so-slightly forward in his own chair. John inhaled, held his breath, and then exhaled. As naturally as anything in the world, he silently spoke the three words:
He hadn’t realised he’d shut his eyes until he opened them, feeling his still-ajar lips trembling. Hell, he’d gone and done it now, hadn’t he? This sinking feeling only stormed as he watched Sherlock watch him intently, and he could virtually hear the cogs turning, whirring out of control.
Sherlock had to have opened his mouth at least five times, only to have nothing come out, before he settled. Pursing his lips momentarily, then speaking so fast John could barely make out what he said. And when he did, he found a sense of both relief and major disappointment come crushing over him.
“Pickle juice.” He’d said, face completely straight, with no smirk in sight.Â
No, he wasn’t a superstitious person. He didn’t look out for falling pianos every time he crossed underneath a ladder, nor did he panic when he passed Sherlock on the staircase. He didn’t greet lone magpies when he came across them, but this he had faith in. The universe was showing him it wasn’t quite time yet for Sherlock to know, and he’d have to be okay with that. In time, he knew he would be. After all, they’d waited a long time already. How bad could it really be?
