"I care about you, too"
“When will you finally stop playing God?!”
“Oh, hello John.”
He couldn't believe it. John couldn't believe it. Of course Sherlock had to play the aloof hero and place himself in danger instead of just telling him or Lestrade for bloody once what he was doing so they could help him.
“Don't you have anything else to – oh, why do I even ask anymore?”
“Anything else to say? It was the gardener like I said. You can arrest him, Lestrade. You should find enough evidence in the garden shed, I doubt he was clever enough to hide it any better. And could they stop wrapping this blanket around me, we already had that!”
John was at his wit's end, probably just like Lestrade who was standing next to him. They were both standing in front of Sherlock who had absolutely stupidly solved a case on his own again and was now sitting in the back of an ambulance car. John found himself being relegated to their very first case again as he saw how the emergency doctor kept putting a blanket around Sherlock, and how he kept pushing it from his shoulders.
“The garden shed, alright... thank you. Maybe next time you'll decide to let us in on your plans.” Lestrade looked ready to throw a punch at Sherlock for keeping doing these absolutely ridiculous things he was doing but turned around instead to order his men what to do. Which left John to be pissed at Sherlock.
Sherlock's eyes ran over John who had crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You're angry. Why?”
John raised an eyebrow.. “Why I am angry? Are you serious?”
“Well, yes. The case is solved, the murderer caught. No one got hurt, and I'm only adding that because that's, for some reason, so incredibly important to you... well, no one got seriously injured at least.”
“You almost got killed! He would have shot you if Lestrade and I wouldn't have made it in time!”
“But I didn't. Why does it bother you so much, John, seriously? You were on time, we saved the day, everyone's happy.” Sherlock got up, throwing the blanket into the ambulance car mindlessly, and slipped his hands in the pockets of his coat. “Dinner?” He didn't wait for John but started walking away.
“How can you think about dinner now? Sherlock!” John hurried after him, trying to catch up to the bloody idiot with the ridiculously long legs. “Sherlock, we were worried about you. Lestrade, Mrs Hudson, your brother, me, because we didn't know what you were up to!” He stopped the oh so great only Consulting Detective in the entire world in his tracks to make him look at him.
Sherlock tilted his head, his brows furrowed. “I do that every time. Why do you still worry? Why do you worry at all, I know perfectly well what I'm doing.”
John groaned. “It's called caring, Sherlock. We never know what you're up to. And it could go wrong one day.” His hands were still gripping Sherlock's shoulders tightly, and John had no intention of letting go anytime soon. He had been so afraid. Well, he always was when Sherlock just ran off without telling anyone about his plans but it had been particularly distressing this time. John also knew perfectly well why. Not that he would say it because Sherlock would most probably not get it anyways.
“Caring.” The word rolled off his tongue as if he was trying them out even though they'd been through this at least a million times by now. “I care about you, too, John.”
The statement almost knocked John of his feet. He couldn't do anything but blink at his friend for a solid minute. He must look like Sherlock when John had told him that he was his best friend. “What?”
“I care about you, too, John,” Sherlock repeated his previous words rolling his eyes. “But that doesn't keep me from solving these crimes. Why is it so important to you anyway? It's not like you'd cared bef-”
Sometimes, straight forward was the only direction someone could take even though it meant breaking right through a wall. In one swift motion John pulled Sherlock towards him and crashed his lips against his. John heard him gasp in surprise, not a sound he would have thought to ever hear from him (not that he thought anything could ever truly surprise Sherlock Holmes). Maybe Sherlock would get it that way he thought for a moment before he suddenly felt him shake beneath his hands and his legs giving in.
John backed away from Sherlock and managed to catch him just in time before he could break down completely. Maybe he was in shock more than any of them had previously thought, maybe John had completely overwhelmed him, maybe he had-
It was his turn to gasp in surprise when all of sudden he felt Sherlock grab his head and pull him in for another kiss. His lips moved against John's slowly but passionately and it didn't seem like he was about to stop anytime soon judging by how tight his grip was. Not that John minded, oh. Not at all. His eyes flattered shut as he wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist and pressed his body against his own. Warmth radiated through his body from where they touched.
Never before had he voiced or made his changed feelings for Sherlock clear in any way. Bloody hell, he had barely admitted them to himself out of fear what it would mean for their relationship. They had never talked about the matter, not even when people had assumed they were a couple so John had absolutely no idea what Sherlock was thinking about it (ignoring that it was generally difficult to even follow his train of thought, let alone figure out what exactly was going on in his head).
But, for the first time, John felt like he had a pretty good idea of what was going on beneath the dark and messy curls of the bloody idiot whose lips tasted like black coffee and smoke and home.
When Sherlock finally loosened his grip a bit, John gently pulled back. Sherlock sighed and leaned back in slightly but John kept him at distance which caused Sherlock to slowly open his eyes.
“You've been smoking,” John exclaimed, somewhat reproachfully but with a stupid smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“You've been caring,” Sherlock replied in the same tone, and John gave a laugh. One day, that bloody idiot would be the death of him.
“Yes, of course. I care about you, Sherlock Holmes. A lot actually. But no matter how often I tell you, you don't seem to get it. You can be awfully oblivious sometimes.”
Sherlock grinned before he leaned down and whispered into John's ear, “I know. But it's fine as long as I have you, John Watson.”
(Picture from Pinterest, the writing is mine)
