An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapter 6 excerpt Â
When he woke up, Sherlock was gone. John took stock of the night before. He had confessed his love, and told Sherlock all about the drawings and how he would look at them a lot. Not only that, but Sherlock had kissed him. Sherlock had come home and even after all his ramblings, he kissed him. Twice.
John noticed the sound of the kettle clicking off. He sat up and wrapped his arms around his legs. Holding them tight, he let his head drop. He didn't know where he stood with Sherlock anymore. Why did he let him sleep here? He couldn't wrap his head around what was happening. His mind continued to replay the night before. Watching on repeat as if it was some kind of torture. Which, of course, led him to the night they fought. The shouting. The chase. The pain he had seen across Sherlock's face. A new wave of shame washed over John.
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