Data Doesn't Lie (Johnlock)

Chapter 13

SHERLOCK

I straightened my stand for the millionth time in under five minutes. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been so nervous, but I suppose this was a big thing for me. The sociopath Sherlock Holmes confessing feelings for someone else. How completely trivial.

John relaxed back into the couch as I left to dim the lighting a bit. I always played better in the dark. John opened his eyes for a moment. "Whatcha doing?" he asked softly. I didn't respond, completely focused on my mission.

Would he like it? Would it be expressive enough to tell John how I truly felt? Was it enough? Did he need more? What if he didn't like it? What if he hated it? What if he couldn't see the message and ignored all the signs? Tears caught in my throat just thinking of all the "what if"'s. Very unsure and very afraid, I turned to John and hoped indeed that no anxiety showed on my face. As soon as I looked at my sweet blogger my heartbeat calmed, my nerves soothed immensely. I felt confident for the first time that day.

Gingerly, I pulled my finished piece from its folder as if it were a precious document of old. John's face lit up at the sight, which made my heart skip a beat. "Are you going to play for me?" He asked slyly. I nodded stiffly, heat bubbling in my cheeks and throat. I picked up my violin and read over the piece again, though I had already memorized it. Here goes everything, I thought to myself, and began to play.

JOHN

Sherlock's melodic playing captivated me at the first note. He played on for what felt like blissful eternity. His notes weaved their way through my heart in intricate strings that held me together. My eyes filled with tears despite myself, spilling over my cheeks. But they were happy tears.

The music went on and on in sweet, high tones that told the most complicated story. It took me a few minutes to figure out what he was trying to tell me. This song was special, it was for me. Sherlock Holmes had written music, obsessed in practice, modified and perfected a piece, just for me. It was a message, I was sure.

By the time he had stopped playing, after about five minutes, my joyful tears had dried. It was then that I realized his hands were shaking on the bow, causing small squeaks to erupt quietly on the strings. He forced his arms down with a rather shaky breath and composed himself. I hadn't even noticed how nervous he'd been.

I smiled warmly to assure him his safety. "That was...incredible, Sherlock. Absolutely beautiful." Like the man who wrote it, I thought to myself. "What was it about?" I asked him. He didn't look at me, however spoke his answer in hushed tones. "You...my blogger." He smiled nervously. "Do you understand, though, John?" he asked quietly.
My smile widened despite myself. "I think I do, actually." From then I followed pure instinct, the nerves in my body directing my movements. Perhaps, I realized, I was in fact deducing him. He stood straight, his eyes trained emotionally on me. I could read his every thought through those green-blue orbs. Standing from my position on the couch, I walked up to my detective and wrapped my arms around his waist, smiling broadly. I was finally getting what I wanted. Even from a distance, I could see the pink tint in his face and the brim of his pupils dilating. My greatest hopes confirmed, I kissed the world's only consulting detective for a second time.

Sherlock hardly jumped and didn't even attempt to pull away, instead dragging me towards him, one hand pushing my head forward to deepen the kiss. I couldn't even express the happiness that flooded over me. I'd thought he'd hated me, that he never wanted to be with me. Obviously, I was very wrong. Somehow it was even better than the first kiss, as we stood completely still.

I was shocked out of my bliss when I felt his tongue skim my mouth, begging for entry. I thought for a moment, but allowed it in the end. I couldn't suppress a moan as he explored my mouth, our tongues battling. His violin fell to the couch cushion below. Unfortunately, I lost my breath and was forced to pull myself away from him.

Sherlock was breathing raggedly, his fingers lightly skimming over his mouth where I'd kissed him. His face was an attractive rose color. I laughed softly, keeping my hands in place. In all actuality, I felt very lightheaded. Sherlock blinked blank-faced at me, before he spoke. "Well, I...um..." He could not find his words, an amazing feat for him especially. "Need you say anything?" I asked rhetorically. He shook his head, a small smile playing across his sharp features. It was one of the rare, precious smiles that he saved just for me.

We kissed again, the weight off my shoulders lifted. Who knew music could have such power? "I'm just glad you interpreted that correctly," Sherlock muttered. "I'm not as stupid as most people think." He looked surprised. "I don't think you're stupid," he said quietly. I couldn't help but laugh again. He looked so cute like this. I had to stand on my toes to kiss him. "You're not most people," I pointed out.

He fidgeted in place, the pink tint in his face wavering. "So...you do love me?" I was almost shocked into collapsing. I'd spent all this time worrying that he didn't love me, and when I found out he did it was he who questioned my love for him. That was irony at its finest. On my toes again, I left another small peck. I couldn't help it, especially now that I had permission. "You're a smart man, Sherlock. Deduce me," I challenged with a smirk.

He smiled at this notion, tilting my head up so he could see me. He mumbled to himself about red in my features and my pupils being dilated. He placed on hand on my chest, butterflies erupting in my stomach. "Elevated heartbeat," he mumbled.

"And?" I asked quietly. His smiled broadened. "And I love you too, John Watson."

I sighed in content. I could have stood there for days without knowing it. Sherlock broke the blissful silence as our foreheads touched. "So what are we?" I shrugged. "That depends on what you prefer to be called." He nodded. "I've always found the word 'boyfriend' quite intolerable. I prefer something classier." His arms snaked around my waist. "Partners?" He offered. I nodded. "Perfect." Silence again. "Takeout?" I asked softly, unable to control the bouncing spring in my legs as well as my heart. Electricity buzzed in my lips as he kissed me a final time. "Perfect."