JOHNLOCKed in a Closet

Thoughts and Deductions

A/N I got over 100 views! Yay thank you for everyone who is reading this! Here's another chapter, enjoy and let me know what you think, you guys!
Love,
turtely🐢

John was walking fast without really knowing where to. He just knew he needed fresh air and to move. Walking was the perfect combination of those two needs. His mind was racing.

He almost had had a panic attack. Because he was stuck in a small room with Sherlock? How did that make sense? 'Come on, John, we both know the reason why you panicked', said a voice in his head. It was Sherlock's. Oh damn it! What if Sherlock knew? Would he be repulsed, ask him to leave the flat? To never contact him again?

But... was he even gay? There was no evidence for that anyways. He liked women, he liked,... the way they laughed,... and their beauty and kindness. Not that every woman was – or even had to be – beautiful or kind, that was just John's type. But then he thought of Sherlock... of his genius mind and his cheekbones and the way he got excited in an almost childlike manner.

John came to an halt - just like his mind. He just stopped in the middle of the street, in the middle of his track of thoughts. He closed his eyes and breathed. And with every breath he emptied his mind. He focused on his feet. One foot in front of another, while counting down from 100 to keep his mind from drifting...
He ended up at an park looking over the Thames. It had gotten dark and he heard the distant sound of traffic and laughter from a group of teenagers, but he focused on the sound of the river. It helped. He stood there watching the reflections of the lights in the water.

Now that his thoughts and his insides were calmer the army doctor allowed himself to think of how close Sherlock was standing in that closet and what it did to him. He had had this feeling of tickling all over his body, he was getting reeaally warm and had a nervous twitch in his stomach. Butterflies? Okay, maybe he had some... homosexual tendencies for his flatmate. But that was that. Tendencies. Nothing more, there was no need to panic over it and if he just waited long enough it would certainly go away.

John Watson gave a sharp nod to himself, straightened up, clenched his jaw and his fists. So this was it. Tendencies. Easy to overcome, nothing to worry about. All he needed to do was to head home, pretend nothing ever happened and wait a few days until these awfully weird feelings would disappear. This could not be that hard, right? Damn it! He had invaded Afghanistan, he could resist some lanky smartmouth! With this in mind he tried his very best not to think of Sherlock's lips and headed home. This will pass, just wait.

***

Sherlock was laying in his original position and replayed the whole closet scenario in his mind palace.

Mrs. Hudson asking them to help, turning out to be a trick to... lock them in an incredible small room? To do what exactly?

They had talked, there was a lot of unwanted body contact. Then there was... different kind of body contact... the hand holding, the getting very close when Sherlock had grabbed the cookies, because John could not reach them.
At this thought Sherlock smiled at himself. Adorable little John could not reach the shelf... Sherlock drifted off, he didn't really rethink the last few moments, but relived them. The way he had felt excited, playful, and... attracted... when he had got close to the army doctor.
He had liked making John unusually nervous – it was so much not like him, but Sherlock... he simply liked it...

Shaking his head he brushed off the emotions and turned back to his mind palace: Hand holding. John leaving his hand an almost unnoticeable moment too long in his. Almost not noticeable, but Sherlock of course had observed.
John's stumbling, his voice breaking. Then the eating – in record time: Stress eating. John being sweaty having a  – a panic attack? The hugging...
Then there were a few seconds, where the air was being too thick to breathe...
And finally how red John was when they were free again. Like a tomato. Because only seconds ago he had touched Sherlock's rear.
The conclusion was incredibly simple: John Watson had feelings for Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock smiled.

Finally.

A/N just trying to build it up a bit, hold tight my peeps it gets intense soon. Please vote if you liked, comment what you liked/didn't like since that's the only way a tiny little wanna-be-author like me will know and THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!
Yours, turtely (lol nah I am actually not anyones)