Johnlock

Chapter Three

John's P.O.V.

I woke up panting and sweating heavily, tightly gripping the sheets, knuckles white. I rubbed my eyes sleepily and looked around. The sounds of gunshots and cries of wounded men still rung out in the distance. I sighed. Another nightmare. "Ahem." I heard come from the corner of the room. I nearly leapt out of my bed from fright. I stumbled out and stared at the corner nervously. I saw something move and yanked open my dresser drawer. I picked up my handgun and aimed randomly at the wall. Slowly, I saw Sherlock move forward, hands up, smirk on his face. I breathed out a sigh of relief.
"Damnit, Sherlock, don't do that!" I said, upset. He chuckled and lowered his hands.
"I suppose I should have knocked." He said quietly, his voice sending shivers down my spine.
I cleared my throat and asked, "How long have you been standing there?" He shrugged.
"Approximately an hour and twenty seven minutes." I was about to say something when he put his finger up. Tilting his head to one side slightly, he said, "Wait. Wait...alright, now it's twenty eight minutes." I stared at him. He'd been staring at me while I slept.
"No, I have not been staring at you the whole hour and thirty minutes, I have merely been waiting." I gaped at him. "I just wanted my blanket back, I need to make my bed." I was still gaping at him. "Don't do that, you look uneducated and stupid. I can't be seen in public with you if you make that face." He looked away, frowning at the wall. I shut my mouth quickly and picked the blanket up off my bed. I tossed it to him as he threw my neatly folded blanket at me. I almost dropped it as it hit me in the face. I heard him chuckle and my face reddened.
I heard him start walking briskly out of my room and called out to him, "Sherlock, come back!! Let me fold the blanket for you..." He stopped on the last step before turning around, marching back in and handing me his tangle of sheets. I splayed them out on the bed and he stood, watching. I folded one side over and tried to make casual conversation. "Hey, Sherlock, did you ever hear the one about the mop?" I asked cheerfully. He gave me a blank stare, so I assumed not. "Ok, so, knock knock?" He sighed. "Who's there?" He asked lazily. "I eat mop." I said, breaking out into a grin. "I eat mop who?" He asked slowly. I laughed and said, "Ha, you eat your poo?" I kept laughing but stopped when I saw him staring at the wall, frowning again. I heard him mutter repeatedly, occasionally hearing "mop" and "poo" until I saw his eyes pop and he started to chuckle. The chuckling rapidly grew into full blown laughter. He stood, one hand on his stomach, one hand on the side of the bed, laughing, genuinely laughing. He finally breathed out a sigh and cleared his throat, still smiling. "'I eat my poo', hahaha...that was a good one, John, not a very intelligent one, but a good one all the same." I grinned. Sherlock rarely complimented me, so when he did, I made sure to store it away in my memory. I tried to fold over the blanket again, but was laughing, so I messed up the fold.
"Oh. Oh dear...that doesn't look quite right..." I turned this way and that, trying to find a good way to unfold only one part of the blanket, so as not to mess up all of it. Sherlock walked up slowly behind me and reached around me. I stiffened a bit but relaxed when I saw that he was just correcting the fold in the blanket. His arms around me, I felt warm and fluffy inside. I immediately shook off the feeling while I watched his deft hands work. I zoned back in and heard him murmur in my ear gently,
"There, all better now..." I nodded hastily. He pulled away from me and I picked up the blanket tentatively, looking away when I handed it to him, blushing furiously. He was walking back down the stairs when I saw him turn halfway around. He faced me and said, "And, John. Thank you." I nodded stiffly and pretended to be busy making my bed properly. When I heard him finally step down in the living room, I collapsed onto my bed, breathing heavily. What just happened? Having his arms around me had left me so...breathless. Agh, confusing...

Sherlock's P.O.V.

I paced, mind racing. I had confirmed it. John had...feelings towards me. But what sorts? Did he like my presence? Did I embarrass him? Did he think I was obnoxious? Did he...have THOSE sorts of feelings towards me? And, if he did, how to tell him that I didn't feel the same way...or did I? When I had had my arms around him, he was just so warm...I had never ever had my arms around another person other than my mother, and then only rarely. He was so warm and soft...I almost never had the pleasure of holding someone. I did like the feeling, I had to admit. I suppose I had just never thought I would have had my arms around another man before. I had never really tried to recognise my sexuality or attract any attention in that way. Sherlock the Virgin, speaking words of virginal wisdom. It was actually quite pathetic and sad. However, I had never been interested in anyone in a loving manner until...what, seven minutes ago? I glanced at the clock. Yes, seven minutes. I groaned. Really? I had wasted seven minutes thinking about John? Wow, maybe something was going on...I shook my head. Think Sherlock, what to do? Aha! Confirm that he likes you in that manner for certain, then, distinguish your own feelings toward him yourself! Perfectly fine idea, thank you very much. I paced on and on, late into the afternoon, still thinking...when I was finally done, at perhaps three in the afternoon, I silently snuck up to John's room. I pressed my ear to the door, listening. After deducing that he was either asleep, sitting completely still or dead, I opened the door gently. I crept in to see that he was asleep on the bed, apparently after either falling or throwing himself onto his bed. I walked by him and stood, watching. I glanced around his room, noticing the untidy clothes by the laundry basket, the opened laptop on his desk, his soft, sweet scent... I snapped up my head. What? Alright, then. I started to go down the stairs out of his room. Good. Time for another experiment.