Johnlock

Chapter One

John's P.O.V.

I sat, huddled against the side of my chair, crying silently. I watched as Dumbo reached for his mother's trunk and let out two small, glistening tears. I sniffed and let out a sigh. His mother now cradled him in her trunk, and I got a few scenes of other baby animals with their mothers. I simply closed my eyes, listening to the music. I started to sob, and when I looked back up, Dumbo was waving to his mother as he left, and her back at him as best she could through the bars. I turned the volume down and snuggled into my blanket. I had trailed it downstairs from my room and had curled up with it on my chair. Suddenly, I heard steady pounding steps coming up the stairs. I hurriedly changed the channel to a program about the endangered white rhino, whom I couldn't care less about, not after just watching Dumbo lose his mommy. I sobered up and sat straight faced. Sherlock walked in and collapsed on his chair. "What are we watching?" He asked dryly.
"Uh, white rhinos?" I said quickly. My voice cracked though, which caused him to look up at me in concern.
"John." He said sternly. I looked at my knees, or rather, the blanket over my knees, and said,
"Yes, Sherlock?" He leaned in closer to me, squinting.
"Are you...crying?" I looked away hurriedly.
"No, I am most certainly not. I just...stubbed my toe on the way down stairs from fetching my blanket, that's all." I stated defiantly, letting out another large sniff. He looked at me with a smirk and nodded slowly.
"Ah, yes of course. I see." He pointed at the remote and I threw it to him casually.
"Thank you." He said pointedly. I froze. Wait... I saw Sherlock click a button in the middle of the remote. I winced. Last channel button. The program about rhinos shut off to be replaced with a tent of laughing clowns making fun of Dumbo. I leapt up. "Who wants tea?" I rushed off to the kitchen without waiting for an answer and I heard a sly chuckle. I reddened and set about making tea. I stood at the counter for a little bit before I heard Sherlock get up and start walking this way.
I pretended to be inspecting an imaginary scratch in the table when he walked in and said, "Don't try to hide it, it's not shameful to have feelings. And by the way, there are no marks on that side of the counter, we never eat over there." He said smugly. I frowned.
"Huh. So there aren't." I casually walked over to the kettle and busied myself with refilling the sugar-bowl. He chuckled and left the room. The heartless bastard. I heard the kettle go off and poured out some tea.
I was paying attention to the cup so as not to spill on my way in the living room, so when I sat down on my chair, I received an unnoticed and unpleasant surprise. "Oof!" Sherlock let out a breath as I sat on him. I immediately jumped up, placing the tea on the table so as not to spill. Oh, too late. I looked at the wet spot on Sherlock's pants. I chuckled. It looked like he had wet himself. He stood up hurriedly. I immediately dropped my smile. I followed him into his bedroom silently and marched into his bathroom to find a towel. I came back out and found him rifling through his drawer for a new pair of trousers. I cleared my throat loudly. "Ahem."
"Oh." Sherlock straightened up suddenly. "John. What a pleasant surprise. What are you doing in here?" I nodded towards his pants. He looked down. "Ah, well, yes. I see." I sighed. No he didn't. When I looked closely, it actually didn't look like he had had an accident, I had only gotten it on his upper thigh, but it still looked pretty funny.
"Spread your legs." I said bravely. I knelt down and started to pat his leg with the towel. The tea had cooled exceptionally fast. It was cold, and getting colder.
"You don't have to, John, I am perfectly capable of-" I cut him off abruptly. "No, I'm going to dry you off. I'm the one who spilled tea on you in the first place, I'll clean it up." He muttered under his breath nervously. "Wait a minute." I sat back on my heels and looked up at him. "What were you doing in my chair?"
He cleared his throat and said, "I just wanted to see what your chair felt like, that was all. And your blanket looked really soft." He admitted quickly. I laughed. He looked at me, surprised.
"You can just ask to borrow it any time, you know." He shrugged.
"I get along with what I have. Besides, it looked like you needed it. It's half drenched in tears." I blushed and looked away. I started to apologize.
"Sherlock, I-"
"No, no, it's fine, go ahead, I didn't mean anything by that, I was just making an observation." He stated quickly. I looked at his pants. They were pretty much dry now. I stood up and put my hands on my hips.
"Well, I think they're fine now."
He looked down and said, "Oh. So they are." I nodded.
"Yes, I think I'm done here." I draped the towel over one side of the tub in his bathroom. I heard him mutter something as I was walking out. "What?" I said loudly.
"Thank you, John." He said just as loudly. I chuckled and walked into the living room. I stared at my chair, then at his. Hmm...I plopped down into his and felt a little uncomfortable. His chair was a little more plush and saggy than mine, and there was no pillow on it. But it was pretty comfy after I got used to it, so I stayed. A few minutes later, Sherlock wandered in and froze in front of me.
"Uh, John? What, might I ask, are you doing?" He asked quietly. I had just been starting to doze off, and his smooth voice startled me. I leapt up groggily and crashed into his chest. I tripped and fell into my chair, once again on top of Sherlock. I had knocked all the breath out of him, judging by his labored breathing, so I leapt up once again and began furiously apologizing.

Sherlock's P.O.V.

"Jesus, Sherlock, how in the devil-" John started, barely taking a pause between words.
I stared at him in amazement. His cheeks were flushed pink and getting brighter by the minute. He kept looking at his feet and then at me and then at the wall and then back again, he was restless. He was moving his feet back and forth nervously, undecided upon what to say to me. His hands were clenched behind his back, judging by the way his tendons were flexing. I just sat, casually, evaluating. When he had fallen on me, for the second time that day, he had been so very warm. Almost cozy, one might say. His body had been warm against mine, and I must say, the feeling had not been unpleasant. His spine was slightly curved, unnoticeable when standing from being in the military, but it fit snugly into my lanky shape. I tensed. Why did I care?
"It's fine, John, it was my fault for disturbing you." My voice slid smoothly out from under my smirking lips, before I could catch it and hold it back in. He stopped mid sentence, mouth slightly open. He was taking in large lungfuls of air, trying to regulate his heart rate, probably, which was curiously elevated.
He stared at me intently. "Ok, then." He said quickly, out of breath. I stood up swiftly out of his chair, in one smooth movement, and leaned in close to his face. His breath caught in his throat and I felt something other than embarrassment and guilt emanating off of him. Something along the lines of...admiration. I felt his heart beating rapidly on the inside of his chest from where mine touched his, and I couldn't happen to notice that he tensed up slightly. Undeterred, I leaned past his face and whispered into his ear.
"I feel bad for Dumbo, too." Before stalking off to my room to throw darts at my wall.