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Sherlock sighs as she looks at her best friend from across their fifth period classroom. John's chatting with some bloke with short brown hair, a peirced ear and forest green eyes. She knows hes a rugby player thanks to the thick callouses that cover his fingers. Fingers that he's using to teasingly pinch the soft slope of John's chin. Sherlock grimaces at the tight feeling that enters her chest as she watches someone else touch her best friend's beautiful face. She groans and lays her head on her scratched and wrote on desk.

She's in trouble. Has been since her first year of high school. She's in trouble because for the last three years, she's been falling slowly but surely in love with her best friend; John H. Watson.

It wasn't like she'd walked into to the dull hallways of Sherrinford High planning to be saved by Sally Donovan by a short, grumpy, blonde haired girl with eyes as blue as the darkest ocean waters. She wasn't planning on said short blonde haired grump to offer a hand to help her up off the cold floors of the hallway. She certainly wasn't expecting for her savior to walk her into the not so clean girls bathroom to patch up a split lip and to check for a concussion. In short, she was not expecting to make a friend.

"Don't mind Donovan," her savior said as she wetted a paper towel and pressed it gingerly to Sherlock's appraised lip. "She's a cunt. Has been since we were little kids," she stated matter of factly as she placed a warm and gentle hand under Sherlock's chin and tilted it up to check for any signs of a concussion. Satisfied that her head was okay, her savior removed her hand. Sherlock instantly had missed the warmth. At the time, she hadn't understood why.

The angel favored her with the most breath taking smile she'd ever seen and held out a golden tan hand. Sherlock had looked down and instantly knew that this remarkable girl played rugby, wrote frequently and drew. She had looked up at the girl and noticed how one perfect golden eyebrow was raised quizzically as she stared at Sherlock. Sherlock had blushed and looked away. Biting down hard on her lip to keep from telling the girl to go away. She had known then that she would never want this girl to go away.

A soft giggle caught her attention. She quickly snapped her head around to stare incredulously at the shorter girl who had a hand to her mouth. Trying and failing to hold back her laughter that had caused Sherlock's stomach to come alive with butterflies.

"What's funny?" She asked with a bite in her voice.

The other girl merely shook her head and schooled her face into an amused expression.

"Oh, nothing. Just usually when someone offers a hand you take it. Let's try that again, yeah?"

She stuck out her hand to Sherlock again. Sherlock had taken it.

"Hi. My name's John. John Watson. And you are?"

Sherlock had let a small smirk grace her lips as she grasped the warm hand and gave a firm, confident shake.

"Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes."

John's face had broke out into a grin that caused two adorable dimples to show themselves.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sherlock Holmes. I've a feeling we're going to be good friends."

And that's how it all began.

Chapter Text

The harsh dinging of the bell pulls Sherlock out of one of her most treasured  memories and back into to the reality she is not at all fond of. Lifting her head up from her desk, she pushes her frizzled black hair behind her ears and pushes her reading glasses more securely onto the bridge of her nose. She's putting her note book and glasses into her shoulder bag as a hand slams onto her desk with a loud 'smack!'. She knows who the hand belongs to thanks to the chipped orange nail polish and well kept fingers. Rolling her eyes, she waits for Sally Donovan, her bully since god knows when, to hurdle her most famous insult.

"Hey, Freak."

There it is.

Looking up, Sherlock sighs tiredly. She can always trust Sally Donovan to ruin an actually decent day.

"Hello, Sally," she replies in a bored tone, "see you were busy with Anderson before fifth. I'm curious, does his girlfriend know that you two have been getting on before and dare I say after school? I see he likes to get a bit rough, thanks to the dark bruise on your neck that your shirt collar barely hides. I'd say it happened around first. Not that you mind, though. He's got one too match yours. How romantic," she drawls sarcastically as she smirks at the bully.

Sharp pain erupts in the back of her skull as Sally pulls her sensitive hair and wrenches. Sherlock knows not to whimper or show she's in pain. Years of bullying and one tends to learn the do's and don'ts when placed into a tedious situation. Sally knots her fingers tighter and delivers another painful tug.

"You think you're so clever," she snarls into her ear as she yanks again. This time, the pain almost, almost causes her to cry out. She's biting the inside of her cheek so hard that she can taste the metallic flavor of blood.

Great.

"You're nothing but a no good freak! No one likes you. Why don't you just do everyone a favor and just kill yourself? It's not as if people would actually miss you!"

Another painful tug and Sherlock actually cries out. Then, the fist in her hair is gone and the back of her skull tingles painfully. A startled yelp comes from her bully as she's pushed none too gently away from Sherlock. Sherlock allows herself to open her eyes. Inwardly cringing as she feels wetness escape from them.

A fierce looking John stands over a terrified Sally. Her fists and clenched so tightly that her knuckles are white. Her small, compact body gives off clear signs of rage. John's going to hit her. Her mouth is pulled into a straight line and her jaw is set, dark blue eyes glowing with pure hatred. Sherlock notices that Sally's lips are actually trembling. She opens them to speak when John's quiet voice cuts her off.

"How dare you..." John snarls and Sally flinches from her tone.

"How dare you speak to Sherlock as though you're better than her! How dare you even lay a hand on her! I'd love to bet the shit out of you right now. I'd beat you until you were choking on your own blood!" Her breathing is erratic and her fists shake from the effort of restraining herself from doing what she wants to do so terribly bad. 

Sally looks like she's about to cry.

"But, I'm not gonna do that," John whispers, voice threateningly low. She bends down to stare into Sally's terrified brown eyes. Sally trembles and tries to push herself away from John. But, she quickly advances on her.

"If I ever see you anywhere near Sherlock again or causing her any pain," her voice becomes barely a whisper, "I'll destroy you."   

Straightening up, John stares down at a now mortified Sally. She smirks and makes a shooing motion with her hands.

"Now run along. I'm sure Anderson's curious about what's kept you."

Like a startled deer, Sally hops off the cold floor and darts out of the room. Sherlock hears John let out a shuttering breath. She doesn't realize she's crying until warm hands cup her face and gentle thumbs wipe the escaping tears away. John wraps her arms around Sherlock, sitting on her desk. Sherlock lets John embrace her and breaths in her comforting scent. Earl grey tea, pencil shavings, a hint of floral perfume. She lets the familiar scents try and calm her. John's hands rub soothing circles along her shaking back.

She hugs her best friend tightly and lifts her face to bury it into the junction of John's neck. She knows that her breathing is far too quick and that she should try to take deeper, calmer breaths. It just seems so impossible...

"Sherlock." John's gentle voice breaks through her thoughts.

"Sherlock, you're having a panic attack. I need you to breathe. Do you think you can do that for me?" Her voice is familiar and soothing.

Gentle hands incase Sherlock's face again as she's pulled from the warmth and safety of John's embrace.  When she opens her eyes, John is looking at her with kind and understanding eyes. Their depth is as bottomless as the ocean.

"Follow me okay, Sherlock?" John says as she starts to breathe in and out in deep calming breaths.

John grabs on of her trembling hands and settles it on her chest.

"Breathe in. Breathe out."

Sherlock can feel John's chest expand as she does the simple breathing exercise. It calms her and she tries to follow her best friend's example.

"Come on, Sherlock. In. Out. In. Out."

A few more cycles and Sherlock's breathing returns to normal and her body stops shaking. She's still a bit shaken up from the hateful words Sally had said. The words are still ringing in her ears. But, it's okay. John's here. John's always here.

"There you go, Sherlock. Good job!"

She blushes at John's praise. A warm ache settles in her chest as she gazes shyly at her best friend.

"Thank you," she whispers as she rubs the back of her head. Wincing, she pulls her hand away. Still rather tender.

John sighs through her nose and picks up Sherlock's bag and hands it to her. Their hands touch for a moment, Sherlock gasps as tingles flair under her skin from the slight contact. She removes her hand and quickly clears her throat. Together John and her make their way out of the class and head to the front of the school since they both don't have a sixth period. Their shoulders brush lightly as they walk. Sherlock allows a soft smile to come to her lips.

Chapter Text

"Am I still coming over tonight?" John asks, staring warily at Sherlock as they make their way to the front of the school.

"Of course! My parents are still away and Mycroft has to deal with some tedious government problems."

John laughs and the sound melts Sherlock's heart. She finds herself smiling and laughing along.

"I doubt what your brother does is tedious," John teases as her laughter subsides.

She's clutching at her stomach and Sherlock finds it extremely adorable. Rolling her eyes, she huffs and shoulders her best friend gently. Smiling wide when John giggles and shoulders her back. Sherlock relishes the warmth she can feel from John and bites her lip.

It would be so easy to just reach over and twine their fingers together. So, so bloody easy. But, it isn't that easy. John, her beautiful, brilliant and amazing best friend, is straight. As straight as their mutual friend Molly Hooper's hair. Sherlock knows because every time they go out and are mistaken for a couple (which Sherlock is secretly thrilled about, but never mind) John is quick to shut who ever may be assuming such a thing down rather quickly. 'Um, we're not actually a couple" or "I'm not gay' are her favorite things to say in such situations.

Those phrases never cease to hurt Sherlock deep down. She knows she shouldn't want to be with John. She can't be with her. But, that doesn't stop her from wanting . She wants to grab John's hand and raise it to her lips to leave a barely there kiss upon her small, tan hand. She wants to push John's short blonde hair behind her ears and marvel at the softness. She wants to kiss her and hold her and never let go. She wants, desperately.  But, the fact is that she can't. And that knowledge causes her heart to ache.

Every. Damn. Time.

"Sherlock?"

John's voice leads her away from her wants and brings her back to reality. Painful and unfair reality. Clearing her throat, she gives a sideways glance to John.

"Sorry, what?" She asks stupidly and inwardly cringes. John rolls her dark blue eyes and sighs fondly.

"Glad to have you back," she jokes. "I was just asking if you want me to pick up food on my way to your house? Maybe that Chinese place you're so fond of?"

Sherlock smiles. John never stops taking care of her and her best friend doesn't even realize it. It warms her that someone has actually managed to stick around for my than a year. John has broken the record. She's been friends with Sherlock for three years. 'Talk about commitment," Sherlock thinks to herself.

She smiles every time John says something so incredibly John, like "Don't forget to wear the protective goggles in chemistry; for the love of god Sherlock, eat; you need to sleep, no I don't bloody care if you think it's a sodding waste of time!" Unknowingly to her, Sherlock lets out a quiet giggle.

"What's funny?"

"Mhm? What are you on about, John?"

"You just giggled."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh. So, what's funny?"

Sherlock smiles and nudges John gently.

"Nothing. Can't a person just giggle?"

"Well, yes, but you rarely do!"

The playful back and forth banter continues until they make it to school's front gate. Turning and looking her up and down, John asks, "You going to be alright  walking home?"

Sherlock fondly rolls her mercury colored eyes and gives an exasperated huff. She'll never admit how pleased it makes her that John's always worried about her well being.

"Yes, John. I'll be fine. Honestly, you're such a mother hen!"

John glares but the playful glint in her eyes lets Sherlock know that no heat is packed behind the gesture. She pushes her gently and huffs.

"You're the only person I mother hen," she mumbles as she nudges a pebble with the toe of her black converse. Affection swells in Sherlock's chest at the mumbled statement. She laughs quietly and pushes her best friend back.

"Thank you, John," she whispers as she gazes adoringly at her. John looks away from the pebble and back at Sherlock, her dark eyes wide at the thanks Sherlock has given. She shrugs and waves her hand in a dismissive gesture before she brings it to the back of her head and ruffles her hair. One of her most used nervous ticks Sherlock has learned over the years.

"S'no problem. What are friends for?"

Sherlock feels the pang in her chest again. Yes, cause that's what they are right? Friends. Nothing more. She swallows around the lump that has risen to her throat and fiddles with the cuff of her black jacket ( a gift from John).

"I'll be fine, John. I promise," she says after a beat of silence.

She sends John a smile which she hopes is reassuring. It must be because John nods and kicks at the pebble one more time before turning away from Sherlock and walking in the other direction; towards her house.

"I'll text you when I'm on my way!" She calls over her shoulder as she puts a hand in the air in a wave like gesture. Then, she takes off into a light jog. Her backpack shaking with the movements. Sherlock watches until John disappears from her sight. Nodding to herself, Sherlock turns the other way and begins the short walk back to her house. Deciding to ignore the ever present dull ache in her chest and counting down until John might text.

It's fine.

It's all fine. 

Chapter Text

The first time Sherlock realized she was in love with John was after their first fight. John's eyes become even beautiful when her face is red with rage. Rage that Sherlock's careless use of deductions had caused. 

"You can't just bloody run off everyone boy who you don't like Sherlock!" John had yelled as she made her way out of Sherlock's room. Her bare feet slamming loudly against the carpeted stairs. 

"Why the hell not?!" Sherlock had yelled back as she followed quickly after her very upset and emotional best friend. 

"He was no good for you!" She yelled out and John had come to a screeching halt in front of the front door. John had slowly turned around. Her eyes flashing with a fierceness that had taken Sherlock's breathe away.

Beautiful.

"What gives you the right to say who's good for me, hmm? Why should that even bother you? It isn't like you actually care!"

The sharp ache that had pierced her heart at John's hurtful comment made Sherlock cover her mouth as unwanted tears came to her eyes. Stinging started in her nose as she tried to hold back the tears. 

She would not cry. She would not cry...

Tears dripping down her chin and a muffled, pain laced sob escaped and Sherlock had been horrified at her own out burst of sentiment. 

Why does it hurt so much? 

She hadn't wanted to look at John. She knew, expected, John to walk away. Having a best friend was just to good to be true. It was a fairy tale situation and Sherlock had never liked fairy tales.

She turned to run up the stairs and into her bedroom. She didn't want to see John, her best friend, her only friend, walk out of the door. Out of her life. 

A strong grip on her thin wrist prevented her escape. Sherlock had tensed, waiting for something. A slap. A punch. Hurtful words yelled into her ear. What she got was something so unexpected.

"Sherlock," John whispered so gently. "Oh, I am so sorry." 

Arms surrounded her. She waited for pain to be inflicted. John's arms tightened ever so slightly and then her face was buried in the crook of Sherlock's neck. Soft whispers of "I'm sorry" left against her alabaster skin. Warmth seeped into her body, instantly relaxing her. More horrible sobs escaped her throat as she let herself be held. 

Comforted.

John's voice was soothing and her hands had been gentle as they petted carefully at her wild hair. 

"I'm so sorry. I should've never said that. I know you care. I know." 

More gentle touches and kind murmurs left against her sob wracked body. Sherlock had choked out, "you-you are my bes-best friend, John... you-you only deserve the best..."

She felt John's breath hitch and the relieved sigh she let out. Warmth had spread in Sherlock's chest and some strange new door had been opened inside herself at John's words.

"You are my best friend, too, Sherlock. Thank you for looking out for me."

And Sherlock had known she had lost a battle. She had realized then, wrapped in John's safe and warm embrace, that she could possibly, very much love the girl she was crying on. 

And oh...

How that realization burned her heart and made her throat ache.

Chapter Text

Sherlock loves a lot of things about John. So many that she would have to count all of them with her fingers, toes and possibly some bones. She's utterly and completely gone by her and sometimes that realization terrifies her.

She loves the way John scrunches up her nose when she's almost at the end of her patience (which must be extremely long and well built, bless her possibly rage filled heart) and her indignant whines of protest when Sherlock says she looks like an upset toddler that didn't get another piece of cake.

She loves how John softly sings to herself when doing homework, writing, or drawing. Even though the songs are often not Sherlock's favorites, she puts up with them just to hear John's soft, smooth voice that flows through Sherlock's blood stream like a smoker's first taste of nicotine, strong and heavy but no less satisfying.

She loves how John'll sometimes forget that she's  got a led smudge on her finger and carelessly rubs the middle of her forehead, leaving a dark smudge that she'd happily kiss away. If only she was just given the opportunity to do so.

She's loves the way John will poke at her when she's complaining that she's bored (as long as John's with her she is never dangerously bored) with those fingers that have pencil shavings and led particles stuck just under the small nails that adorn her fingers that she wishes to nip at playfully.

She loves almost everything about the beautiful being called John Watson.

Almost everything.

She doesn't love how John judges her body. A beautiful and perfect body that does have some soft bits and cellulite, especially around the thighs, that Sherlock considers a walking and functioning master piece. If she was an artist, her John would be the muse and she'd paint piece after piece of gorgeous perfection that people all around the world would buy.

She doesn't love how John will sometimes trace the stretch marks that cover her abdomen with a frown sketched on her face. Sherlock wishes she could kiss each and every one until all John would be able to think about when she looked at  them was the feel of Sherlock's tongue and teeth and lips worshipping those marks that have the honor of gracing that golden skin. Skin that Sherlock wishes to burn with hot breaths and the touch of her scorching lips and the bite of her teeth.

She doesn't love how John does not believe she's walking perfection. 

But, John doesn't know what Sherlock loves and dislikes about her. She doesn't know the deep and odd desires that race through Sherlock's body and mind. And Sherlock does not plan on telling her best friend that she's utterly, completely and madly taken with her.

Horrifyingly so.

John doesn't know and that's fine. It's all good and fine because John is still her best friend. Sherlock never wants to mess that up. Best to keep her desires locked away. Deep, deep, deep down in the bottom of her belly that still swirls with butterflies everytime John sends her a smile from across the halls in school or during classes. 

She loves John. Completely. No question or hesitation. That's what terrifies her, because love means feeling and Sherlock Holmes has never been good at feeling. But, she'd gladly light herself aflame if it meant her John was warm.

Keeping quiet is what's best, right?

Right.

Chapter Text

Sherlock unlocks her front door with slow movements. As she enters, she unties her black boots and slips them from her feett, smiling a little when she sees her socks. Skulls and crossbones. She turns to lock the front door, making sure it's burglar safe, she then walks up the twelve carpeted stairs to her bedroom. 

She would call out a hello or even an I'm home but she knows that no one but her is in the house. No one else will be home for a week, besides Mycroft's checkups too see if Sherlock has done something potentially dangerous. The nosey cake fiend. 

To say that the Holmes family was not well off would be a lie. It didn't take a genius to guess that they had plenty of money. The Holmes house was a dead give away that when it come to expenses and luxuries, they had the cash to spare. The Holmes house was nothing if not extremely, as John always said; posh.

The house had a Victorian look to it on the outside. Big glass windows allowed plenty of light to come in, if Sherlock so wished the light to come in and disrupt the quiet darkness of the house. The house had two stories plus an attic, contained four bedrooms, three bathrooms, a nicely sized living room, a very nice kitchen (which no one hardly used because why cook when you could just order takeaway?) and a small but glorious library. If Sherlock wasn't in her room, she would always most likely be in the library curled up in the chair by the window with a science book in her lap.

The back yard was decently sized as well. There was a pool, an old swing set and a huge oak tree. Sherlock had fell from the tree plenty of times, never ceasing to her mummy, daddy and Mycroft a heart attack. The tree was conveniently placed just under her bedroom window. All she had to do was open the window, place one foot out and she'd be on one of the great oak's sturdy branches. John once came through her window when she was having a bad night at home. Sherlock had gasped as she saw the black eye that adorned her beautiful face. She had began to fret until John had just said it isn't that bad, Sherlock. I-I just didn't want to be there anymore. Do...do you think I could crash here? Just for tonight? She had agreed instantly, wanting John out of danger and well away from her chaotic home life. John had fallen asleep on Sherlock's shoulder, wrapped in her deep purple duvet. That's when she knew that she was completely, utterly, in love with her best friend. That night, she had fearfully placed a kiss on Johns forehead while she was sleeping.

Sherlock flings open her door and walks sluggishly into her bedroom. To anyone who knew her they'd know the room was what her personality looked like. The walls were painted purple and were covered in music notes, science posters (chemistry because biology is irrelevant), drawings and paintings John had given her throughout their friendship and pictures of her and John. Her desk is covered with books and papers. Pencil and pens are spilling from a knocked over vase, she should really tidy up but cleaning is tedious. A dresser sits by her window, a closet is directly in front of her queen sized bed and a night stand is on the right side. Atop her black night stand rests an alarm clock, her glasses case and a human skull replica. Sherlock. Is that a bloody skull?! It's a fake, John, honestly.

Groaning, she kicks her door closed and begins stripping. She takes off her black jacket, tosses it in the direction of the bed, unbuttons her deep purple silk shirt and lets the material pool into a puddle behind her. She unbutton and unzips her black skinny jeans, kicks out of those and then shuffles to her dresser. She opens the third drawer and pulls out a faded grey tee-shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms that are riddled with skulls. Pulling on her pajamas hastily, she falls back onto her unmade bed face first. Her glasses smoosh against her nose and she hisses in discomfort. Lifting her head, she plucks then off her face and places them gently on the night stand. Rolling over, she lays on her back and looks at the photos of her and John that are arranged in a collage of sorts. In all the photos, they're both making ridiculous faces, except the one that she framed and now sits on her night stand alongside Billy the Skull.

Why Billy, John?

I dunno. He just looks like a Billy.

Sighing, she sits up and walks over to her violin that's sat on top of her dresser. Picking up the instrument, she begins to play a melancholy song and allows the music to let her drift away. Shutting her eyes, the world dims around her. The music is the only thing that exists.

 

Chapter Text

John shows around eight with a bag of their favorite Chinese take away. She waits outside the front door. A smile falls upon her lips as she hears her best friend playing her violin. The tune is slow, sweet, a little mournful. She imagines that the music playing is the soundtrack of Sherlock's mind and emotions.

Her small smile blooms into a dopey grin as she remembers the first time Sherlock had ever played for her. She was so nervous! The alabaster color of her cheeks had been burning a very lovely shade of light pink. John had spent a weak just trying to create the color will all the paints she had. In the end, she had succeed and had painted the wooden frame of her twin sized bed the same color. Along with the mercury shade if Sherlock's eyes.

The first time Sherlock played for her, she was so nervous that she had swiped the bow a little too harshly over the strings. A hideous shrieking sound was the result that made both of them wince in discomfort and Sherlock's cheeks to flush an even more gorgeous shade of pink. Sherlock had been close to tears. Muttering "so stupid" and saying a stuttering apology to John. John had told her it was okay if she did not feel like playing.

"Honestly, Sherlock," she had said, "it's perfectly fine."

The result was a stubborn head shake from Sherlock, a few calming breaths and the most exquisite sound John had ever heard.

 

Ruefully shaking her head, the grin still on her face, John fishes out Sherlock's house key from the chain around her neck, turns the lock and enters the obscenely well kept house. Toeing of her black Converse's, she pads quietly to the kitchen and sets their food down.

She makes her way up the carpeted stairs and leans against the frame of her best friends door, admiring the view.

Her best friend is tall. All lanky limbs and endless gracefulness. Her frazzled curly hair sticks up a bit more on one side and her worn t-shirt raises up a bit in the back, showing off a few bumps of her spine. She holds her beloved instrument gently, as though it's the most precious thing in the world.

In short, she endlessly lovely and bizarre. The highlight of John's less than perfect life.

John holds back a fond snort when she looks at her best friends pajama bottoms. How unbelievably Sherlock. She takes time to gaze around the mess that serves as her Sherlock's room. She smiles as she sees the photo collage of them.

John needs to tell Sherlock soon. Even though it's one of the most terrifying things she will ever do.

Tonight, she promises herself, I'll tell her tonight.

With a slow calming exhale of breath, she knocks on the door. Pulling Sherlock from her mind palace, back to her.

Sherlock turns and John inwardly melts at the warm smile that adorns her beautiful face.

John smiles back.

"Dinner's here." She says simply, turning she makes her way back down the stairs to prepare their plates.

Tonight I'll tell you.

Chapter Text

They settle comfortably on the couch. Decent sized plates of steaming Chinese food balanced on their knees. They sit close together and the slight contact from John's thigh pressed against hers makes Sherlock have to hold back a shiver.

She sits quietly, listening to John tell her about a new short story she's working on. God she's stunning when she talks about something she loves.

So far, the story's about a girl who suffers from anxiety and she has to take medication for it even though she knows the medication isn't working at all. A new girl comes to the school and sits next to her.They quickly become friends but the main character finds herself wanting more from her new friend and she doesn't know that the feelings are very much returned.

"Why are all your stories about girls falling in love with girls, recently?" Sherlock finds herself asking. "I mean isn't the norm writing heterosexual love stories?"

She watches in adoration as John chuckles through a mouthful of orange chicken. John nods, her blond hair ruffling slightly from the movement.

Swallowing her food, she answers, "well, I suppose. But I've never been good at sticking to the norm."

Not understanding her John's meaning, her eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. She's even more confused when John reaches her hand out to gently rub inbetween her eyes with her beautiful ink stained fingers.

They've always been not shy with the touching, but the amount of tenderness in the gesture almost makes Sherlock stop breathing. Satisfied that the crease between her eyebrows is gone, John leans back and continues eating her food.

"I don't fit in with the norm, Sherlock." It's said so quietly that Sherlock almost misses it.

"What do you mean, John?"

"Exactly what I said, Sherlock."

"But you're normal!"

"But I'm not."

Huffing in frustration, she turns to look at her beat friend fully. "Then explain to me how you, John Watson, are not normal."

John smiles quickly. Just a quirk of her lips. "Can't you deduce it?" It's asked with challenge, John's eyes twinkling mischievously. Sherlock could never say no to a challenge.

She stares at her best friend trying to gather as much data from her person as she can. John's hair is shoulder length with bangs that hang low on her forehead. She's usually wearing jeans and t-shirts. Her writings always consist of usually two girls falling in love. Her drawings are of both beautiful men and woman. She looks at both in school. She's mostly had relationships with boys but they never last long on the count of John being distant sometimes.

No. It can't be. Her best friend cannot be bisexual. Sherlock doesn't even want to get her hopes up. She doesn't even want to risk saying it out loud for the fear that she could be letting her hopefulness get the better of her.

John stares back at her calmly. Letting her take the information she needs. Sherlock stares at her for a few moments, dumbstruck.

"Figure it out then, genius?" John asks her in that calm and level tone. Eyes never leaving hers'.

"You're bisexual.." it comes out as a barely there whisper.

John smiles nervously. "Ta da!"

Chapter Text

John watches in nervousness as her best friend blinks. Her beautiful eyes go blink, blink, blink blink, blink.

Great, I've gone and broken her before the first date. Excellent job, Watson!

John clears her throat and places the remainder of her food on the coffee table.

"Right," she says, "starting to get a bit scary now."

Blink. Blink. Blink, blink. Blink.

Slowly, as if she's trying not to frighten a baby deer, John reaches forward and taps her forefinger against Sherlock's forehead.

"Hello? Anybody home in there?"

That does the trick because next thing she knows, she's pinned flat on her back on the plush living room couch with Sherlock buggering Holmes straddling her hips and pinning her arms down. Her elegant hands squeezing John's wrists almost to the point of pain.

Almost.

A thrill goes through her body as she understands what position she's in. Her best friend's icy eyes are watching her with an almost predatory gaze. John's body feels unbearably hot. 

"How long?" Sherlock asks, her voice pitched low, almost a growl.

John gazes up at her in confusion, eyebrows creased.

"What do you mean 'how long'?"

Sherlock lets out an exasperatted sigh and rolls those stunning eyes.

"Don't be dull, John," she says, pinning her with another spine tingling stare. "How long have you known you're bi?"

In truth, it's a bit hard to focus. Sherlock's thighs are a comforting weight against her hips and she rather likes the feeling of being pinned down by her usually passive best friend.

Christ. She's absolutely stunning.

Clearing her throat, John does her best to shrug. It doesn't workout too well. Much to her disappointment.

"Honestly, I dunno. For awhile I guess. Never thought too much on it. What with my da being a homophobic prick and all, didn't have much time to think on it."

Sherlock hums, her eyes raking over John's face. To John's surprise, her best friend lowers her head to where their lips are merely an inch apart. She can feel Sherlock's soft breaths. She swears she could probably taste her sighs. Head heady with the intoxicating feeling of having her best friend so close, she almost misses what Sherlock says.

"Pardon?"

"Can I try something? Please?" Sherlock whispers, her burning gaze flicking down to John's lips.

Nodding frantically, John says, "oh god, yes."

Without further hesitation, Sherlock closes the gap between their lips. 

John revels in the needy groan that emerges from Sherlock's throat. Her best friend's lips taste like the noodles she ate for dinner and mint chapstick. But, it's the taste of Sherlock that's got John completely hooked.

Letting out her own groan, John nips at Sherlock's plush bottom lip and draws a gasp from that tempting mouth. Tentively, John slips her tongue inside and flicks it against Sherlock's, urging the other girl to do the same. 

Sherlock is no means an expert kisser but the shyness of her exploring tongue makes John melt even more. Sherlock is careful with the snogging, as if she's trying to catalouge every ridge and corner of John's mouth.

Realizing that oxygen is indeed a thing they need to have in order to live, they part. A thin string of saliva connecting their kiss swollen lips. Sherlock is beautifully flushed and panting above her.

John is in a daze and a dorky grin adourns her face. 

"Well," she inquires, smiling cheekily up at the girl who was just snogging her senseless, "You can feel free to try that anytime. I can't really say that I mind."

 

Chapter Text

Sherlock looks down at her best friend's flushed face and adorably cheeky grin. She feels warm and comfortable perched on John's hips. Noticing she still has a hold of her wrists, Sherlock retracts her hands.

Part of her is waiting for John to shove her off and storm out for being wrong and disgusting. Stupid, she scolds herself quietly, John would never do that to you. She'd never hurt you.

She feels warm hands run soothingly up her back and she looks down at John, her eyes dazed. 

"Are you all right, love?" John asks, her deep blue eyes showing concern.

Love. She called me love.

Sherlock tries to say that yes, she's more than all right. She's bloody fantastic because she just kissed John Watson; her beautiful and stunning best friend and she kissed back.

 

She kissed me back... SHE KISSED ME BACK!?

"Yo-you kissed me back," she stutters and John's lovely eyes spark with mischief and her soothing hands move to running back and forth over Sherlock's parted thighs. 

"Yes, I did." John says, her voice calm and endlessly loving. "That's what a person who's completely entranced with someone does when they're kissed by the person they've been pinning after for years." 

Sherlock's eyes widen when John's words sink in. John quirks an eyebrow and smirks up at her. No doubt enjoying her victory of making the great Sherlock Holmes quiet for once.

"What's wrong, love?" she purrs as she raises herself from the couch, bringing their bodies flush together. Sherlock let's out a gasp at the contact. "Cat got your tongue?"

Before Sherlock can reply with a snarky remark, it isn't a cat that has her tongue.

Instead, it's John Watson. 

John shifts them to where Sherlock is now the one on her back and Sherlock finds that she loves the feeling of John's small but strong body covering hers. She let's out an unhappy whine when John pulls back from the kiss. She glares up at John, trying to look menacing but she melts when John's ink stained hand cups her cheek.

"Christ," she almost whispers, "you're so beautiful."

Sherlock is embarrassed by the almost purring sound that comes from her throat as John lovingly caresses her warm cheek.

John sits back and pulls Sherlock with her. She's confused and unhappy at the change of position and let's John now by making grumbling noises. They stop however when she finds her head resting right over John's heart beat and her strong arms holding her tightly. She feels safe and warm.

Loved. I feel loved.

"Is this okay?" She feels John ask rather than say it. Sherlock let's out a contented mhhm and raises her head to place a sweet kiss on her John's already kiss swollen lips.

"More than okay, " she says laying her head back over the comforting thud, thud, of John's heart.

 

 

Chapter Text

They stay cuddled on the over stuffed couch, nestled in the warmth of the cozy embrace of limbs.

Sherlock is almost asleep when John speaks, breaking the spell and Sherlock's eyes snap open.

"So..." John asks as she rubs her hand over Sherlock's back. Sitting up, she stares at John and parrots back, "so?" John clears her throat and licks her lips twice.

Sherlock looses focus for a minute, her full attention on John's tongue and lips.

"Are we a couple then?"

Sherlock can't help the snort that comes from her at the stupidity of the question. She wants to say something like no I just let any person kiss me, didn't you know?

John pulls her hand a way suddenly and Sherlock scolds herself. She grabs John's hand and places it back on her back and then she reaches and cups John's face in her hands. 

"You know," she drawls, "for someone who's best friends with a genius, you still ask some very idiotic questions." She leans in and places a reassuring kiss on John's lips. She smiles when John instantly relaxes and leans into it. 

Pulling back, Sherlock smiles at the blissed out look on John's face. Someone would probably think John was on drugs if they saw this look. 

"I would very much like to be a couple because, just like you, I've been pining for years."

John's blue eyes widen, "how long?" 

Sherlock takes a breath and says, "the fourth time you saved me from Donovan's idiocy. I remember how you walked me to the nurse. You stayed with me even though I verbally abused you for not going to your biology class. You wouldn't leave my side though. You were so stubborn and everytime I yelled at you to go and just leave me alone, you wouldn't. You just sat there next to me, totally not caring about how late you'd be to your class." She risks a glance at John. 

Her eyes are the softest she's ever seen them and there's a new found vulnerability on her face. 

"That was when I realized I was utterly and completely in love with you, John Watson."

She's surprised when John surges forward and captures her mouth in a bruising kiss.

"When you played the violin for me," John gasps when she finally releases her mouth, "that's when I realized I was in love with you."

"You looked so... perfect. Your cheeks were flushed and you were nervous beyond belief. You were so perfect and gorgeous and just so..." she trails off, "you were just so you and all I could think was ' she's perfect and I love her'. I really do love you, Sherlock Holmes. I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to tell you. I was so afraid. I still am but I love you and I'll risk telling my father. All the bruises would be worth it  because I know I'd still have you."

Sherlock doesn't knows she's crying until John is kissing her tears away, saying I love you with each kiss she leaves.

Sherlock curls into the safety of John's arms and sniffles into where her neck meets her shoulder.

"So," John begins, "there's only one thing left to ask. Sherlock Holmes, would you do me the absolute honor of becoming my girlfriend?"

Sherlock laughs into John's neck and nods furiously.

She feels John place a kiss on her frizzy black hair.

"Perfect."

Chapter Text

The first time John had ever seen the scars that Sherlock had was when she had popped over for a surprise visit. She had been away most their school break to visit her nan. So, she climbed the tree up to Sherlock's window.

Sherlock had been in just a over large t shirt and black boy shorts. John had stopped to admire her mile long legs when she first noticed the thin light pink cuts that adorned her best friend's alabaster skin. Some looked fresher than others and John's heart ached. The scars were covered soon enough by sweats.

John took a breath and knocked on the glass twice. She laughed out loud when Sherlock jumped and yelled in surprise. The look of fear promptly vanished when she saw who it was.

Sherlock had rushed over to the window and threw it open with an elated "John!" John had crawled in and fell dramatically onto her best friend's soft carpet. Earning an exasperated huff from Sherlock as she layer down next to her. Together they stared at the ceiling and enjoyed the comfortable silence.

"How was the trip?" Sherlock asked and John let out a long suffering groan.

"Harry was a bit much but I'm happy my da wasn't with us. I don't think I could handle two drunks."

"And your Nan?"

John had sighed and ringed her hands together.

"She's better. Still missing my grandpa terribly. But that's to be expected."

Sherlock had hummed. "So. A shit trip then?"

Nodding, John parroted, " a shit trip."

She desperately wanted to talk about the cuts but she knew it wasn't a good time to bring it up. Her best friend looked tired.

"You're parents gone again?"

"Yeah. They're in France so my father can work on his book. Should be back in two weeks."

Nodding, John gotten off the floor. "I'm starving," she said.

Sherlock had grinned.

"Take away?" She'd asked.

John grinned back.

"Take away. With extra noodles."

Chapter Text

Dear Sherlock,

I think I might love you.

I know that when I see you my heart stops and all the bullshit disappears. I know that I want to hold your hand and kiss you.

I'd like to kiss you quite a bit, actually.

I'd like to be able to pull you into a kiss anytime I wanted. I'd like to wrap myself around you and protect from everything in this world. I'd like to be the one you come to when you're scared or upset. I'd like to be the one who is able to see the girl who hides under that cold and indifferent mask.

I'd like to be the one you love.

You're endlessly unique and intriguing, Sherlock Holmes. You're different from any one I've ever met. You're beautiful and dangerous. You're hilarious and moody. Your pout is too adorable and pure for this world and I just want to kiss you to the point where we forget what oxygen is. 

You're my Sherlock and if you'd let me, I'd like to try and be your John.

Us against the world, yeah? 

I think I love you and I'm not so afraid of the thought anymore.

Yours,

John Watson

Chapter Text

"What will your parents think about all this?" John asks as she roughly dries her hair with a towel. Sherlock dramatically drops back on her bed which causes John to shake her head fondly at her girl friend.

It hits her then.

Sherlock Holmes is her girl friend.

"They've been expecting us to date for a while. Mummy will probably be absolutely thrilled. She did always like you and your wit." Sherlock drawls as she stretches like a cat on her unmade bed. "My father will probably write a celebratory poem for us. Mentioning the years of pining of course." She lifts her frizzy black haired head and fixes John with a stare that could only be described as sultry.

"You standing there in my shirt and boy shorts is hardly fair, John." She purrs and John involuntarily shivers.

"And just how is it unfair?" John asks while she gives her hair one last good rub and throws the towel on the floor.

"It's unfair," her girl friend says, "because you're over there and I'm over here. It's unfair because I can't kiss you or cuddle you when you're all the way over there."

With a chuckle, John flings herself on top of Sherlock and kisses her gently. Her girl friend hums her approval and nips at her bottom lip.

Pulling back, John goes to lay down beside Sherlock but is stopped by Sherlock's arms around her waist.

"Stay," Sherlock says her voice muffled by John's shoulder. "I like feeling you on top of me."

John let's out a sigh and cuddles into Sherlock's neck.

This is good.

This is very good.

Chapter Text

Sherlock wakes up feeling warm. Not an uncomfortable warm just a nice cozy warm. She also wakes up to a softly snoring John Watson cuddling her like she is her favorite child stuffy.

An idiotic smile comes to Sherlock's face as she cuddles closer to her girlfriend. John is warm and her honey gold hair is still damp from the shower she had before they went to bed. Sherlock can feel the warmth of John's skin through her thin night shirt.

John smells heavenly. Sherlock sniffs and smiles when the smell of her body wash reaches her nose. John smells like her. She has marked John Watson as hers. She can't help but feel a bit smug.

John's warm breath is puffing against her neck. She twists herself to where her lips are more or less level with those of her sleeping girlfriend's. Leaning in, she places a chaste kiss to her lips. She holds back a sigh.

Even in sleep, John is responsive. She presses into the kiss and hums her approval. When Sherlock tries to pull back, John let's out a displeased whine and instantly follows Sherlock's lips.

Soon enough, Sherlock has an armful of sleepy John Watson pressing kisses to every piece of skin she happens to find. Sherlock allows a groan of delight to slip past her lips when John places a kiss to her neck.

John's lips are warm, leaving a path of fire every where they go. Sherlock lays there content on letting her girlfriend kiss her way back to sleep. She has no idea what time it is. She really doesn't care. Sighing, she grabs her girlfriend and cuddles close to her, placing her own sleepy kisses on tan skin.

She briefly wonders if John will want to kiss in public or hold hands at school. A feeling of unpleasantness crawls its way up her throat. What if John wants to keep their relationship a secret? Keep her a secret?

"Stop 'at," John's sleep slurred voice demands. Sherlock looks down and finds sleepy blue eyes staring back at her.

"Stop what?" She asks and softly touches John's cheek. Her heart melts when John places a kiss on her palm.

"Worrying." She says and then she takes her hand and kisses her wrist. "Nothing to worry 'bout, love. You're mine."

Sherlock nods and let's John kiss her wrist again. Over the pulse point.

"I'm yours," she agrees.

Chapter Text

Sherlock wakes up to the lazy morning sunlight slipping through her drawn curtains. She stretches, sighing as three satisfying pops ring out in the quietness of her room. Still sleep weary and satisfied, she reaches out a pale arm and frowns when she's met with cold sheets and not the warm body of her John.

Panic rising in her chest she sits up and makes sure John's overnight bag is still there. She let's out a relieved sigh when she see the black and blue sports bag sitting on her desk chair. John didn't run. John hasn't left her. But that doesn't explain why John, her John, isn't in bed with her.

She ruffles her hair irritably before she launches herself out of bed. Not even bothering to put on her night gown, she walks quickly down the stairs. Stopping by the door, she let's out another relieved sigh when she sees John's shoes. A soft humming from the kitchen catches her attention. Cocking get head to the side, she walks quietly towards the kitchen. A soft smile comes to her lips as she leans against the counter.

John is making waffles. Her hair is sleep mused and tangled from Sherlock slipping her fingers through it as they slept. She's still in her pajamas, her shirt rising up a bit in the back causing a delicious piece of her golden skin to show. Seeing her girlfriends delectable skin makes Sherlock lick her lips and enjoy the view even more. The humming coming from John soon turns into singing and Sherlock is taken aback by how beautiful her voice is. It's soft and a bit sultry and makes goose flesh raise on Sherlock's alabaster skin.

"I met you in the dark,
You lit me up,
You made me feel as though I was enough."

Sherlock smiles as her girlfriend continues to sing. The lyrics familiar yet fuzzy in her mind palace. She swears she's heard John sing them before.

"We danced the night away,
We drank too much,
I held your hair back when you were throwing up."

John begins to sway and Sherlock swears she's never seen something so beautiful. She could get use to this, John making breakfast and singing still in her pajamas and sleep knotted hair.

"Then you smiled over your shoulder,
For a minute I was stone cold sober,
I pulled you closer to my chest
And you asked me to stay over
I said I already told ya
I think you should get some rest."

Mixing waffle patter shouldn't make Sherlock's heart pound and chest ache with love yet John is causing it by just singing and being her. The emotion she feels is almost too much for her to handle. Her eyes burn and a lump is forming in her throat.

"I knew I loved you then
But you'd never know
Cuz I played it cool when
I was scared of letting go
I knew I needed you but I never showed
I wanna stay with you
Until we're gray and old."

Sherlock walks up behind John and places her hands around her waist. She buries her face in John's neck trying to calm down. John smells divine and her skin is warm. While they were lying in bed together, she'd been trying to name what John smelt like and she couldn't. But, now as they sway in Sherlock's kitchen with waffles being made and fruit being chopped and coffee being brewed, she finally knows what John smells like.

Home. Her John smells like home. Warmth and comfort and unconditional love. John's her safe place. Her haven. Sherlock can trust her John with anything and knows John will never think differently of her. The thought makes warm tears slip out of her eyes and land on the skin of John's neck. John twists until they're face to face. She looks concerned as she wipes the tears from her cheeks.

"Sherlock? What's wrong, love?" She asks and oh how wonderful it is to hear that sound first thing when you wake up.

Shaking her head, Sherlock gives John a watery smile.

"Nothing. I'm just...happy." The smile she gets in return could replace the sun itself. Leaning up, John kisses her tears away. She places kisses any where except on Sherlock's lips which causes Sherlock to let out an undignified whine while she pouts at her girlfriend.

John chuckles warmly and brushes their lips together.

"I still have breakfast to make, you know," she mutters against Sherlock's lips and gasps when she delivers a soft nip to her bottom lip. Sherlock slowly teases John's tongue with hers until John is groaning and caressing her tongue as well.

Pulling apart, Sherlock smirks at John's pink cheeks and kiss swollen lips. Gathering John in her arms again, she whispers hotly against the sensitive curve of her ear,
" while I appreciate the thought," she lowers her voice an octave and admires the goose bumps that rise on John's skin, "I'm not exactly hungry for waffles."

She doesn't miss John's sharp intake of breath or how her pulse jumps. Stepping back, she gives John a playful wink. John whirls and shuts off the stove and then pounces on Sherlock. Sherlock's pushed up against the wall while John absolutely ravages her mouth. Sherlock is dizzy and all she can think about is John's lips and hands. A warmth rises and settles into her pelvic area. A warm stirring of arousal makes her gasp. John pulls back and her eyes are near black with lust and hunger. Hunger for her.

"Bedroom," John says, voice low and gravelly. Sherlock shivers and nods.

Chapter Text

They collapse on the unmade bed. John covers Sherlock's body with hers as they continue to kiss. Their hands wander and John shivers as one of Sherlock's perfect hands sneak its way under her shirt and gently caress the warm skin of her back. The kisses switch between chaste and exploring to deep and plundering. Kissing the perfect girl laid out beneath her might just be John's favorite pass time.

John's breath hitches when the hand on her back travels to gently cup her breast. She looks down and notices the pleading look in her girlfriend's mercury eyes. Her teeth intent the soft plumpness of her bottom lip and John can feel arousal settling low and warm.

"Alright?" Sherlock asks, voice low and a bit breathy. It's music to John's ears. Nodding frequently, she adjusts herself so that she perched on top of Sherlock's hips. Sherlock sits up against the head board and they continue with their kisses.

Sherlock is insistent. Her tongue reaches every part of John's mouth, as if she wants to catalogue everything she discovers. John whimpers as Sherlock's other hand moves up to cup her breast. Sherlock's hands are warm, the firmness of them on her breasts is oddly comforting. Shyly, Sherlock begins to squeeze and John let's out a breathy moan at the feeling. Sherlock's fingers slowly glide around her nipples, causing them to grow stiff and hard from the attention. Sherlock's lovely hands disappear and John let's out a needy whine. When she looks down, she has to swallow because the heat in her girlfriend's eyes is breathtaking.

Sherlock tugs harshly at the shirt and makes a growling noise. "Off," she says while tugging uselessly on the article of clothing. "Off now. Need to see you." She looks up and John's breath catches. She's never seen this side of Sherlock. It's safe to say, she's getting extremely turned on by the site of her usually cold and distant best friend, made girlfriend, lose control. Over her.

"Please, John!" She begs with another insistent tug to her shirt. John pulls it off in a flourish. She feels embarrassed and reaches for a sheet, anything to cover her but Sherlock flips them to where she's the one now pinned. Her eyes are burning as they run over her newly exposed skin. She has a hungry, predatory look in those eyes and it makes John shiver.

She moans when Sherlock begins nipping and licking at the skin of her throat. She's becoming extremely aroused,she can feel her boy briefs becoming damp. She stops thinking when a warm tongue laves at her pert nipple. Without thinking she pushes a hand roughly into her girlfriend's jet black hair and tugs. She's startled by the muffled moan that erupts from Sherlock's throat. Pulling back a bit, she breathes, "do that again." John hesitantly replays the action and tugs again. She revels in the vibrations that come from her mouth. The warmth wetness travels down her sternum. She laughs as Sherlock nuzzles around her belly button. However all breath leaves her lungs when Sherlock's wicked mouth stops just above the elastic band of her briefs. Sherlock looks up, gaging her reaction. John smiles gently and runs her fingers through frizzled black hair.

"We don't have to rush, love." She says slowly, hand petting and calming both of them down. "We've all the time in the world. I'm all yours, remember?"

Sherlock nods.

"Can I at least rub you? Through your briefs? I just want to bring you off. Can I have that, please?" John gulps and nods frantically. Sherlock smiles and slides back up to kiss her. John let's out an embarrassing squeak when Sherlock's hand moves between her thighs and settles right on the damp spot. It quickly turns into a moan when she starts rubbing. Soft to hard. John knows she's not going to last long.

Warm breath cascades her ear and then Sherlock is nipping and kissing it. John shivers and jerks,the pressure in her pelvic area keeps building.

"Do you have any idea how many times I've imagined you like this?" Sherlock whispers into her ear while delivering a harsh rub to her clitoris. John yells out in pleasure. "How many times I've pictured you just like this? Laid out and wet because of me? I've spent so long thinking I could never have this and now that I have you," Sherlock shudders and slips her hand under the damp material. John moans at the skin to skin contact. Sherlock's long fingers are wicked as they tease and caress her clit. Long fingers sliding up and down her wet outer lips. "Now that I have you, I don't plan on letting you go."

John shakes and shivers. "Then don't," she gasps, "keep me and I'll keep you." She moans loudly when Sherlock flicks and rubs. The pressure is at it highest and John can only get out a broken "Sherlock" before her climax hits. Sherlock doesn't let up, she continues to kiss and touch John through her orgasm.

When it's over, John collapses boneless against the softness of Sherlock's sheets. She cracks an eye open to see her girlfriend inspecting the strands that web her fingers. Too exhausted to say anything, John huffs and closes her eyes, muttering a "Jesus Christ".

"Was that okay?" Comes a shy voice and she opens her eyes to see Sherlock sitting awkwardly at the end of her bed.

"Sherlock Holmes," John says, "if you don't get back up here and cuddle me I will not let you touch me for the next week." Laughing as she watches her girlfriend scramble up and cuddle against her, John places a tender kiss to Sherlock's lips. "It was amazing, by the way," she informs her, "I can't wait to return the favor." She smirks as she feels Sherlock's body give a shudder.

This will be fun.

Chapter Text

A soft touch rouses Sherlock from sleep. It's gentle and warm; trailing up and down her side, stopping just shy of her underwear. It's full of love and she can't fight off the sleepy grin.

It's strange, how comfortable Sherlock is with John's compact but strong body pressed against her back. She's soft and warm. Sherlock notes that her girlfriend smells divine. She smells like safety and comfort; like a home Sherlock would love to live in. John isn't wearing a shirt and Sherlock blushes bright crimson as she recalls their previous activities. They must have dozed off. She wonders if John wants to...

"Oi." John's voice is rough with sleep and it sends a pleasant tingle down Sherlock's spine, pooling heavy and warm in the pit of her stomach. She's already damp and realizing it makes her bite her lip in embarrassment.
None the less, she gives her bottom a sassy little wriggle and delights in John's answering growl and the tightening of fingers on her exposed hip.

Turning over, she puts on a mock pout and stares into her girlfriend's midnight blue eyes that are still some what glazed with sleep. It makes her John look adorably ruffled.

"Hi." She whispers as she leans in close to bump their noses together. Slowly, she captures John's lips in a warm, unhurried kiss. John hums her approval and presses closer, making Sherlock groan. John takes the advantage and rolls them so that she's settled over Sherlock and traces the seam of her lips with her tongue before slowly pushing past her lips.

They share seven long tongue filled kisses before John pulls away much to Sherlock's disapproval. She gives Sherlock a smile and whispers back, "hello there, love."
John rolls off her and heads to the loo. Soon, she hears water running. John must be brushing her teeth. With a huge sigh, she falls against the bed and stares blankly at her bedroom ceiling. She's startled when John pounces and pins her lanky arms above her head.

Letting out a surprised gasp, she stares into her girlfriend's eyes. The hunger she fines in the dark blue depths is enough to make her heart stop. She moans when John leans down and traces her jaw with her tongue. She makes a path from Sherlock's jaw, ear and finally, she licks slowly into her mouth. It's a demanding kiss and Sherlock's toes curl as John presses more into it. John's tongue is hot and slick. She rarely let's Sherlock surface for air. The lack of oxygen is making her head fuzzy and body needy. She's so wet that she can feel it soaking through the silky material of her panties.

She sighs in relief when John places her knee between her quaking thighs. She shamelessly starts to grind against the bare flesh; seekimg to ease the sweet ache low in her stomach. Her underwear catches on her clitoris briefly and she let's out a tortured moan. John chuckles darkly and moves her knee away. Sherlock let's out whine of protest but it's cut short when a hand finds its way into her hair and pulls just shy of painful. Sherlock gasps and shivers as goose flesh prickles against her alabaster skin. Her breath is coming in short huffs and the ache between her legs is only becoming stronger.

A tug on her shirt brings her to attention and she quickly complies when John releases her hands and tugs again. Whipping off the well worn material, she reaches for John only to have her arms pinned again. She let's out a moan and pushes against John's grip, loving the power she feels. Looking up, she catches John's devilish grin as she leans down and begins to gently lap at her nipple. Sparks fly behind her eyelids and she tries to grind on anything. John tuts and delivers a sharp nip to the now hardened nub, causing Sherlock to cry out and arch up.

"Now, now," John chides,looking down at her. "There will be none of that, okay?" Sherlock nods violently. John grins, murmuring "good girl" as she begins trailing kisses on Sherlock's neck and collar bone,stopping only to lap at her sensitive nipples. "I'm going to make you cum, Sherlock." John says, her voice gravelly with want. "On one condition." Sherlock perks up with interest. John looks at her and at her pinned hands. Licking her lips, she says, "I'll make you cum, but your hands have to stay above your head at all times, understand?"

"Yes, John."

"You'll not what, Sherlock?"

"I'll not move my hands, John."

"Good girl."

That tongue is back on her nipple and one hand travels slowly down her body. It's stops to rub lovingly at the deep grove on her hip. She cries out as a finger strokes up and down her very ready opening. Only petting, never entering because they're both not ready for that. She yells as the finger moves to rub slowly at her clit and then teeth bite gently into her nipple. The rubbing becomes faster and the some what harsh pace has Sherlock moaning and pushing against John's hand between her legs.

Soon, John's tongue travels down and Sherlock stops breathing when warm breath caresses her clitoris. She yells then moans when she feels it lap gently and then stab harshly. She's gong to come soon.

"John!" She gasps out as another exquisite stab is delivered by that wicked tongue. John hums but doesn't bother to move away. Her hand rubs encouragingly at Sherlock's hips. The gesture seems to say, "let go, love. I've got you."

So, she let's go. Her orgasm washes over her in warm waves. She feels boneless as she catches her breath. John travels up her body slowly. She seems nervous.

"Was that...okay?" She asks, her voice shaking. Sherlock can't help but laugh.

"That was absolutely amazing. Stunning. Perfect. Mind boggling. John Watson, you are incredible."

John smiles.

"Good."

Chapter Text

The weekend ends far to quickly in John's opinion.

She wakes up with Sherlock's lanky form around her and places a sweet kiss to those frizzy curls she loves so much. She looks at the room which is slowly being filled by the morning's grey light and let's out a small sigh.

She'll have to go back to her shabby house where there's no heat because her dad's a good for nothing with an intense love for the bottle. Trailing a hand down her girlfriend's back, she vaguely wonders if she should tell her father about Sherlock. About how she loves her. The memory of her older sister introducing her girlfriend to Walt Watson comes fresh to her mind and she closes her eyes tightly to make it disappear.

No.

No.

She won't let him ruin her happiness. She won't let him hurt Sherlock or her. She won't let him say their love is wrong and that her sexuality is a sin. The no good Bible preaching drunk won't get to her.

"Only a few more months," she whispers to the quiet room.

She hasn't told Sherlock about her plan to join the Army. She didn't think she'd have to. It's not like she imagined Sherlock Holmes falling in love with her or herself falling in love with her best friend. But, now that they're together, it seems wrong to keep her plans from her partner and best friend.

She knows Sherlock won't react well. How can she make her understand that, for herself, it's the only way to become something? The only way to get away from her father. She doesn't want to end up like Harry.

She won't.

She looks down at Sherlock's face; so innocent and gentle in the early hours. John places a kiss to her forehead and slowly untangles herself from Sherlock's embrace. She has to figure out a way to tell Sherlock. She has to make her understand.

Walking to her black dufflebag, she takes out her clothes. Worn blue jeans and a tank top. Hand-me-downs from Harry before she left in more ways than one.

Letting out another sigh, she heads to the bathroom.

Maybe a hot shower will make her less anxious.

Chapter Text

Sherlock wakes up groggy and confused as to why John Watson is not in her messy and unmade bed, spooning her or pressing kisses to her still sleep warm flesh. Pouting, she pushes the hair out of her eyes and squints around her room. John's bag is open indicating that said girl is somewhere putting on clothes that hide her perfect body.

Sherlock doesn't know what time it is and she can't be arsed to care. Strands of golden light peak through her drawn curtains, highlighting the dust particles floating in the air.

She shivers.

She isn't cold but she notices how John being out of the room makes in cold and unbearable. In her head, she calls her girlfriend her "conductor of light". It's rather fitting, in Sherlock's opinion.

She hears the sound of her squicky bathroom faucet turning then the sound of water. A smile comes to her face. John is in her bathroom. Using her shower. An image of her John naked and wet with soap suds sliding around her golden silk skin comes to mind and arousal is already stirring in the pit of her belly.

Getting out of bed, she makes her way quietly to the bathroom. When she passes John's bag,something catches her eye. She knows she shouldn't snoop in John's business but that doesn't stop her from pulling out the suspicious packet of rather serious lolling papers.

When she flips through them she almost collapses as she realizes just what the papers are for. Tears gather in her eyes and she falls to the floor holding the papers, unable to hold back her tears any longer.

The army.

Her John joining the army.

Her John being shipped away to god knows where, fighting against god knows who.

Her John possibly being injured.

Her John possibly dying and being sent home in a body bag. Or even worse, not being sent back because her body was never found.

All the terrible scenes rush across her brain and she starts to rock back and forth.

How long has John been planning on this? Was she ever going to tell her? When does she leave? Why is she leaving? Why does she not want to stay with her?

She yanks John's bag from her desk chair and begins digging through it. When her searching fingers touch against cool, flat medal, she takes a shattering breath and pulls the object out.

Dog tags with John's name and other information hang in front of Sherlock's damp eyes and it takes every ounce of her will power not the throw them and the damned papers in the trash and just be done with all this nonsense.

Curling her knees to her chest, she holds the dog tags tightly in her clenched hand. The bite of metal is grounding.

Why is John going to leave her?

What has she done?

Chapter Text

John was relaxed after her scorching shower. Her body was no longer tense as she put on her clothes. All the relaxation lasted until she opened the bathroom door and saw her girlfriend collapsed on the floor, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Sherlock was clutching something in her elegant hands so tight that her perfect knuckles were white as a sheet.

John walks over quickly, wanting to ease her girlfriend's distress. She settles a hand on her shoulder only for it to batted away sloppily. Papers are thrown in her face while her girlfriend scoots farther away. She rests her fluffy black hair on her boney knees and rocks back and forth slightly, her face turned away from John's worried expression. When John finally peels her eyes away from a very uneasy Sherlock and looks down at the papers her girlfriend has found, her heart plummets directly into her stomach.

"Sherlock, love let me explain," she says softly walking towards her Sherlock again.

"Explain what, John? Explain that you're planning on leaving? To fight in a war where you could get injured or where you could be taken prisoner and tortured and your body would never be able to come back home? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT TO EXPLAIN, JOHN?" She ends her rant in an ear splitting shriek and buries her head in her bare knees while her sobbing comes back full force.

Taking a deep breath, she says softly, "I want to be a doctor, Sherlock. I want to help people. I want to see the world while helping people. This has been my dream ever since I was a little girl sitting on my mum's lap. You knew this, love. I can't stay in that house with its screams and stains. I can't, Sherlock. The army is my ticket out. It's a ticket for a better life for...us."

"You can move in with me!" Sherlock says desperately as she looks up with tear stained cheeks and red rimmed eyes. "My parents could pay for your schooling! Mycroft could take you under his wing as an apprentice! We could move somewhere! Anywhere!" She's breathing far too quickly, John knows she's having a panic attack. John falls on the floor and cuddles Sherlock close to her. Sighing in relief when Sherlock hides her face in her neck and nuzzles the soft flesh.

"Please. Please, John. Please don't leave me! I can't. I ca-can't do this if you leave me. Please..." She sounds so broken, so young and John's heart shatters.

"Sherlock, love, please look at me." Sherlock stays hidden in the crook of her neck. "Love, please look at me." Finally, Sherlock raises her head from her hiding place and looks at her girlfriend.

"There you are," John coos as she kisses away Sherlock's remaining tears and gathers her until she's sitting across John's hips. John looks at her and pushes dark hair behind her love's ear.

"Sherlock, I have to go. I'm already registered, already in their database. I'm already a soldier. There's no getting out of this. Not anymore. And I'm okay with that. I know you're scared, baby. I am too but we're going to be fine, okay? I'm not going to die. I'm going to try my damned hardest not to. But I'm telling you that we're going to be just fine. Do you trust me, love?" She asks as she places a tender kiss on the column of her girlfriend's throat. Sherlock nods ever so slightly, her long fingers digging in and tugging at John's hair causing her to groan against her neck.

"Then trust me when I tell you that I'm not leaving you."

Chapter Text

Shelock was quiet. Curled up in her bed under her fluffy comforter. She hadn't spoken since her panic attack and it was making John worried.

She lays down next to Sherlock and rubs her head against her blanket covered knee. Sherlock doesn't move or even blink; just sits their frozen, her dazzling eyes forward like the statues that sit in their school courtyard. John gazes up at her unresponsive girlfriend. She wants to reach up and card her fingers through that frizzy black hair but she knows Sherlock would most likely slap her hand away. She doesn't like to be touched when she's upset like this. So, John just observes her in silence from where her head rests against Sherlock's knee.

Her eyes are red rimmed. Her long and slender nose slightly tender looking, her lips are pulled into a tight line and her face is smooth, emotionless. Her eyes, however, show every emotion running through her slender frame. There's sadness in those clear eyes, along with fear, regret and a whole lotta worry. There isn't any anger though. John doesn't know if the lack of anger is good or bad. She can't read her girlfriend at the moment. She's closed off from the world around her. Locked inside her head and John, though they may be best friends and now lovers, doesn't have a key for that part of Sherlock.

She probably never will.

She's outside, far away from her. She's walking blindly through a battle she doesn't know how to fight in. Harsh words won't do a thing. Nor will rough touches. All that she can give her Sherlock is space and her patience. Trust that she will eventually come back from the maze of her mind. John isn't sure how long that'll be but as her gran use to say, "love is patient, my Johanna. You can not rush it." So, she won't rush Sherlock. Love is patient and she's loved her much too long for her to push her.

"I'm gonna go make breakfast, love," she says softly, hands brushing against her girlfriend's cheek, as she lifts herself off the bed. She's walks away from the bed only to be tugged back by a now frightened looking Sherlock. Mecury eyes wide in uncharacteristic panic, pleading. John lays down, arms opening. Sherlock instantly falls into them, breath tickling and warm against John's neck.

"Please just hold me, John," Sherlock says, voice barely above a whisper and so so broken. "Please stay."

John holds her tighter and places a kiss against frazzled hair. "I'm here, love."

John doesn't leave the bed that morning. And her heart shatters just a bit more when she realizes that someday soon, she won't be able to hold Sherlock like this.