Back from the Dead (Sherlock)

John had to avert his gaze in embarrassment, he wasn't expecting this. "Well, mm, fine," he said, his hand balling into a fist and nervously jumping at his side.

"But don't ever take my gun away!" he added, and decided that Sherlock's foot was a good thing to stare at.

Sherlock had had enough of the awkward tension in the room. Something had to be done. He clapped his hands loudly and forced his body into action.

"Right," he snapped, and headed towards the door where the life-like dummy was resting against the wall. "Let's get this thing in place." He placed his hands round its middle and began to drag it towards the armchair.

John was quick to snap out of it as well, hurrying to help Sherlock carry the dummy. He had to admit he wasn't exactly used to this amount of feelings in his life any more, and he hardly knew how to deal with it, especially now that Sherlock and him were... well... lovers.

Sherlock was glad of the assistance. It was surprisingly heavy and awkward to manouevre. Their hands brushed together as John bent down to pick up the legs and the touch sent a little shiver down his spine. He smiled to himself slightly. Together they managed to set it upright in Sherlock's favourite armchait with its back to the window, then step back and admire the work. Although the dummy had no features on its face, the clothes and hair were an exact replica of Sherlock's and very realistic.

"Not bad at all," he muttered approvingly. "You've done something right for once brother."

Mycroft smirked. "I dohave several resources at my disposal, brother."

He arched his eyebrow. "I will be off, and leave you boys to it. Good day, brother, John."

"Goodbye Mycroft," Sherlock replied. "We'll handle this from here thank you." It was reassuring to know his brother and his government men where nearby should they need them, although Sherlock would never think to admit that directly. He didn't really have to though. Mycroft understood everything without him having to speak. He was rather infuriating like that.

Sherlock perched on John's armchair opposite his own dummy and compared its shirt to his own.

"See you later," he said to Mycroft, and he really hoped things would turn out for the best.

He was distracted from his thoughts when Sherlock started staring at the dummy. "You look better than it," he joked softly, wondering if they were allowed to get some more sleep now.

Sherlock watched Mycroft leave then turned to John grinning at his joke about the dummy. He noticed the weary look on his face and bags under his eyes.

"Hey, you look tired," he said gently. "Do you want to go and lie down? It might be an idea for us to get some rest, it could be a long day and night of waiting around tomorrow."

"I am, I hardly sleep well these days," he admitted, wondering if he would be allowed a night of rest now that he knew Sherlock was back at his side.

"Only if you come with me," he said, looking at the side, rather embarrassed by his own request. There was just something he could not process at the moment about being away from Sherlock. He needed to be in the same room as him.

Sherlock smiled. It was a strange feeling to know that John needed him so much, always wanted to be close to him. But he wasn't going to complain. He liked it. It made him feel special and wanted. He stood up out of the armchair and walked slowly over to him. He reached out a hand to touch John's chest then hesitated slightly. It was almost as if everything that had happened a couple of hours ago was a dream, a haze. But it was real right? It had happened. With an increasing sense of worry he wondered whether things would be OK between them now, or whether John would regret it and start to resent him. He frowned and pursed his lips, thinking. No. Stop it. It was fine, he told himself. John wanted to stay in the same room. It was fine.

"Your room or mine?" he asked gently, unable to disguise his thoughts from displaying themself in his tone of voice. He felt like John could see right through him sometimes.

It wasn't hard for John to read the worry on Sherlock's face, and he wondered for a long moment what this was about. The main problem was always to find a cause.
"I promise I will be less clingy as I get adjusted," he said with an hesitant smile.

He reached out his hand, taking Sherlock's. "I like yours... it smells like you," he said, leaning closer, placing a chaste kiss on the detective's cheek.
"Do you think I can sleep in your room from now on? Or is it too much too early?" he asked, trying not to sound too nervous.

Just the sight of John's smile and the touch of his hand almost made Sherlock forget what he was worrying about. John cared about him. John wanted him. And when the other man's lips touched his cheek, Sherlock's heart melted all over again. This was OK. This was what he wanted. What he needed.

"My room is fine," he replied. "And I'd like that. I'd like you to sleep there every night. It...it gets a bit cold sometimes. Although it's been so long since I spent the night in it...I...I'll stop talking now." He closed his mouth. There wasn't really any need for him to say anymore.

John could feel the tension leaving Sherlock's shoulders, and he could now tell he had been worried about their relationship. Could it be he regretted what had happened?

The words reassured him though, Sherlock wanted him in his room, for someone as independent as the detective, he knew it meant a lot to share his private space.
"Brilliant," he said, and realized the soft kiss on his cheek was hardly enough.
He leaned closer again, kissing his lips. "You can talk as much as you want..." he said, with a grin. "I know how to shut you up in case."

Sherlock now felt confident enough to take John's hand. It felt good to be close to him again. He felt his eyes fluttering closed when he saw him lean in for a kiss. He knew what was coming and the anticipation of John's soft lips on his flipped his heart over.

"John..." he mumbled into the others mouth as they kissed, then he placed his hand on the small of John's back and gently led him towards his room.

"Is this...is this how it is now John?" he asked a little nervously. "You and I? Together? I mean....more than...friends?"

Feeling Sherlock return the kiss calmed his thoughts for a moment, but when they started to walk towards the room and he was asked about their relationship, he wondered what the detective really wanted to know.

He swallowed hard, looking up at him, he knew it was important he replied to this. "It is if it's what you want," he said, and he couldn't help his voice shaking. "I would like that," he admitted. "I would like for you to be my lover... like... in a serious relationship. Exclusive relationship."

They paused outside Sherlock's room and faced each other. He listened to John's words and frowned a little, understanding most of what he said.

"Does exclusive mean we don't want anyone else because I really hate the idea of anyone even coming near me I mean, it's only you that I can even think of in that way anyone else it's just weird and stupid and pointless and it doesn't make any sense why I feel any different with you but for some reason there's just something about you John and - " Sherlock realised he was talking really fast without pausing for breath. He often did that when he was excited or nervous. He stopped himself and shrugged. "That sounds fine."

John looked at him rather amused as he rambled on, he kind of wanted to just stand there and listen to the sound of his voice. "Exclusive means we don't sleep with anyone else... I won't go on any more dates, and you won't flirt with women who thinks brainy is the new sexy," he pointed out, cupping his cheek.

"If you can do that... I will be yours forever," he said with a very soft smile. He felt so stupid saying those things, but it was what he felt and he couldn't help it.

Sherlock realised he liked the idea of John never going on anymore dates. No more waiting in on his own, wondering when his friend might come back. No more shockingly stupid girlfriends. The thought suddenly occured to him that maybe all these years he'd actually been jealous. He hadn't wanted to share his John with anyone. Well now he didn't have to and the thought of it brought a smile to his lips. Hang on a minute, what was he saying?

"I didn't flirt with her!" he protested. "She flirted with me. My interest in 'the woman' was purely professional thank you."

Sherlock moved his right hand and placed it carefully on the back of John's head. Could John really be his forever? It sounded perfect.

"I want you to be mine," he said eventually. He spoke slowly, thinking about every word before it escaped his mouth. "Mine forever. It's...it's what I've always wanted." And he knew it was true. He'd always wanted John just to himself. He took his hand and slowly led him through into his bedroom.

John had to force himself not to scoff at Sherlock's words: "Then why do you call her 'the' woman?" he asked, and he tried not to sound too jealous. It appeared to be rather impossible now that he knew he actually had something to claim, he was Sherlock's lover now, he had every right to be jealous.

His breathing got caught in his throat when Sherlock went on talking though, the words pulling the strings of his heart, and it almost hurt how happy he felt.
"Good," was the only thing he could say, utterly overwhelmed by what he was feeling. "I just... I love you, Sherlock... I really do," he whispered, letting himself be guided in the other's bedroom.

Sherlock was about to protest his innocence at flirting with 'the' woman, but he decided to keep his mouth shut and not spoil the moment. John had, after all, just told him he loved him, and the words made Sherlock feel quite weak and woozy. He never imagined he could be affected by such trivial things but John was something different, special, unique.

"I love you too John." He mumbled.

Sherlock gently closed the bedroom door behind them before moving to sit on the bed, and patting it for John to come and sit beside him.

John moved to sit on the bed, his arm instinctively wrapping around Sherlock's waist, pulling him a bit closer. "I know," he whispered, and nuzzled his shoulder. "I know now," and he placed a soft kiss on his shoulder.

"I've never thought I'd fall for a guy... but I think I would love you whatever form you'd have been born in," he thought out loud, the intimacy of the moment was making him sound more romantic than he had ever been. "I think you were made for me to love you..."


((God, I am so cheesy, I am sorry, you can shoot me... it's just... John is so in looove~~~ he's not used to being happy ^^ ))

(( Lol, the cheese. Awww, no it's sweet though. They're just such a good couple, it's hard to avoid the cliches! ))



Sherlock wrapped his arm around John's shoulder and brought him in close, deeply inhaling the scent of his hair...God he loved that smell, he realised. It wasn't just his shampoo either, it was something else, something uniquely John.

"I never thought I'd fall for anyone," Sherlock shrugged. It was still a complete mystery to him how it had all happened. "But then...you're not anyone. You're....you're special." He took John's hand and squeezed it gently, feeling contented and relaxed, then he lay back on the bed, hooking his right arm round John's waist and pulling him back with him.

"I am glad you could fall for me," he said, letting himself be gently dragged down on top of Sherlock. "Even though I would have just stayed silently at your side if you didn't," he nuzzled his lips, and then kissed them slightly.

"I still can hardly believe you want me of all people... you could have anyone..." he caressed his cheekbones. "You are so beautiful..."


((true, John is completely in love so it's impossible for him to shut up))

Sherlock responded to the kiss, enjoying the taste of John's hot breath and soft lips. It was a tender kiss...romantic and delicate. Sherlock liked it. Afterwards they lay on their sides facing each other, legs intertwined.

He found John's comments amusing. "No one's ever been interested in me before...I'm nothing special." he shrugged.

John laughed at that, his fingers stopping on the other's chin. "You know very well you are special, you are an arrogant arse," he muttered softly, and there was so much love in those words that it didn't even sound like an insult.

"But you don't know just how special you are, how beautiful, and how much I like everything about you, even those things that annoy me," he teased him.