“Sherlock- have you seen my cardigan anyway?” as I finished that sentence I didn’t need an answer, my eyes which were casually searching the room fell upon where it was residing. It was there, on him, draped over him, he was wearing it. Why was he wearing my cardigan?
“Sherlock, why are you wearing it?” A wave of the hand.
It’s all I’ve been getting recently. Hand gestures, one word replies, brushing off any comment or question I ask him. It’s not out of the ordinary for him to be using my belongings; my laptop, phone, but still... my clothes? This was something new, my mind started to think of the reasons. No, he can’t... he wouldn’t, couldn’t, could he?
I shrug the thought off almost the instant it entered my mind. He’s Sherlock - married to his work. It’s not out of character either, would be nice once in a while for him to ask, but I shrug it off, almost as easily as he brushes me off, and get on with the day.
“Tea, john make me tea.” So caught up I my own thoughts, I jump. Sherlock’s’ voice sounds so loud, so deep, so... lovely. It fills the room. He barely speaks to me all week, and the first time in three days, he demands tea. I’m tempted for only a moment to deny his request, but as usual I make him his tea, after all I’m only going to make myself one. Its good manners right? He hasn’t eaten, all that I’ve seen anyway, so it probably isn’t wise to deny this request.
It’s an odd sight seeing him like this, I know better, but I would swear when he’s alone he lets his emotions get to him, there’s a moment of emotion in his eyes, for a fraction of a second as he looks up at me with that smile. God that smile... but that emotion, i couldn’t quite place it, lonlieness? No. Sherlock could never feel lonely could he? Longing? For who... I must have been mistaken, after all- I do know better. He’s my best friend, my roommate. So why does that look play on my mind?
“John. Really that cup of tea would be amazing right now” lost in thought he startles me, again. Crossing the room I started to come back to reality and pushed that thought to the back of my mind, passing him the cup our hands accidentally brush, usually something I would overlook it wouldn’t bother me at all, it was nothing, but this time... a small shiver went through my arm. I looked up at him but he was already backing into his work. God i hope he didn’t notice that, he would surely deduce something from that. What was going on? It was probably nothing, a coincidental chill, but then Sherlock would have felt it as well, but if it wasn’t a chill, would he have felt it as well?
“I’m going out, I’ll be back late. There’ll be milk tomorrow.” Slowly turning around, since in the time he had said this he was already across the room with his jacket on, I caught him putting that scarf on, a quick smile and a bye, and he was gone. Probably for the best, surely these thoughts were from a lack of sleep, it was the only reasonable explanation. I mean, it’s Sherlock, I don’t actually feel like that. It’s impossible.
“I think I need to sleep, yes. Sleep.” With a nod I said to myself. Lying down on the sofa I slowly drifted off to sleep, but that gentle split second brush and that smile was the last thing I saw flash before my eyes, before I finally drifted off to sleep.
John steps into the room, without looking up I know it’s John, the way people walk can tell so much, his well trained body take controlled even steps across the floor, much unlike Mrs Hudson who has much more of a shuffle in her step, he then proceeds to ask me something but I wasn’t paying much attention. The task at hand needed to be complete. The case needed to be solved. My eyes hurt from the constant staring into a lens, but bodily needs can be overcome easily. This time he speaks a little louder, the military background more than likely has something to do with the ability of the control over his voice. I barely look up, and reply “cold” and suppressed the urge to go on at him for not being able to work that out for himself. I’ve taught him enough on deduction, I should start a conversation but there are more pressing matters at hand. He sounds worried, confused... a hint of excitement? No, I must have misread his tone of voice. If anything he’s slightly annoyed. I suppose it is slightly odd to see your flatmate wearing your cardigan, but it’s only an item of clothing. Simple minds over think everything.
I can feel the silence around us building up too much for John; it’s very rare an awkward silence occurs between John and I. He’s too lost in thought to see me look at him. Oh how I wish my body would stop disobeying my mind when it comes to John, his eyes... I need to stop. Back to work.
“Tea, John make me tea.” I startled him, he jumped. I didn’t mean to scare him but he was staring and... He’s still lost in thought, but he’s moving, almost gliding, his body’s on autopilot. I can tell, he doesn’t notice when I look up again. The thought of me in his clothing has sparked an idea in his head, but he’s trying to brush it off. He keeps shaking his head ever so slightly, with a strange expression on his face. I cannot tell if this thought makes him happy of not... but curiosity. That is defiantly there.
The quick glances he passes at me every so often, flicking from me to his cardigan, the small smile, and the head shakes. Surely he cannot have guessed correctly? I’ve hidden these emotions from myself for so long, almost erased them, only when our eyes meet occasionally do the..., what is the expression? butterflies enter my stomach. What a stupid expression. I have to stop myself from thinking about this, change the topic in my mind, he’s frozen, clearly stuck on that thought, but seems to have passed the one thought that is true, but instead of feeling happy, I feel slightly, what is this? Disappointed? Ignoring what I know to be the truth, I pin the feeling down to the fact I thought I had taught him better. I have to break him from the trance he’s locked himself into.
“John. Really that cup of tea would be amazing right now” I say, not loudly but the room was so quiet it seemed to echo. I startled him, again. I’m sorry John. He passes my tea to me, I look up and pass a quick smile, but as the cup is passed between our hands- we touch. His hands... what an odd texture, worn but soft, strong but gentle. My mind starts to wonder back to what I’ve imagined about those hands. I cannot stay; I cannot let these bodily needs overcome me. I have to leave, he’s still in his trance, I suspect he didn’t take notice of the quick touch between us, but I did and now it needs to leave me mind.
I cross the room, John... my Dear John doesn’t notice until I’m leaving.
“I’m going out, I’ll be back late. There’ll be milk tomorrow.” At this he looks up, notices I’m leaving, watches my hands wrap my scarf around my neck, accepts my smile and nods in return. I feel terrible leaving him like this, so confused, but he doesn’t notice that I leave his cardigan still on. He’ll place all his thoughts on lack of sleep, and this will pass for him tomorrow, I however, these thoughts will not leave my mind. I make my way to the Lab, my work takes over, but I know that these thoughts will not leave me; they haven’t since the day at the swimming pool- willing to risk his own life for me. No one had shown me that form of friendship before. Oh John, how I wish I could tell you, but I do not wish you to know just yet, for this I am thankful of your lack of skills in deducing.