Mirror Mirror

Chapter 9

Mirror Universe: Regular John

John took it all in. He'd been working with Sherlock long enough to understand that evidence, empirical evidence, could not be ignored. He had to look at everything presented to him and draw logical conclusions. His world had changed. He had not. Too many fundamental differences slapped him in the face for him not to see how changed this world was. An idea had occurred to him when he saw his blog. He remembered reading a story by Ray Bradbury called A Sound of Thunder. It explained the idea of a "butterfly effect" where a man who'd gone back in time and stepped on a prehistoric butterfly managed to drastically change the future. He'd rewritten the course of history and caused a chain reaction of different choices that lead to a different reality for men who'd gone back in time and reappeared into a completely changed world. His current situation reminded him of that.

He swung open the door and stepped back into the sitting room. "Sherlock," he shouted. "Sherlock!"

"What?" Sherlock said appearing in the hallway with a worried look on his face.

"Have you ever heard of parallel universes?" he asked.

He'd spent almost an hour explaining his idea that he might be in another universe to the detective. Sherlock listened stoically, taking it in. When he finished, Sherlock insisted John see a doctor that Mycroft had recommended who specialized in traumatic brain injuries. He assured John the man would be discreet. John agreed if only to ascertain for himself that this all might not be something pathological.

He had an appointment for later that day. Once he'd decided something, this Sherlock could not and would not be denied. So John busied himself as best he could to wait for it. Finally, he allowed himself to be ushered into the specialist's office. After extensive tests, scans and questions, they left. Results would follow in the next few days, but the doctor assured him that there was nothing imminently problematic with John's brain. They would have to await the results as calmly as they could. Meanwhile, the doctor suggested John might want to seek therapy to help determine if there might be some psychological issues.

Sherlock took him back to Baker St, and they propped themselves in their prospective chairs with even more questions than they had earlier. John knew in his heart that he had not changed, his world had.

"John," Sherlock said breaking the heavy silence that had fallen between them since they'd returned. "Would you come and sit with me on the couch?"

"Why?" John asked looking at Sherlock warily. Ever since they'd returned from the doctor's office, John had half-feared, half-desired a repeat of what had happened in the kitchen earlier.

"Come here, John," Sherlock said moving to the couch and gently patting the seat next to him. "I'm not going to bite you...much," Sherlock said keeping a predatory smile at bay.

"Do I usually just do as you say?" John asked trying to keep a fluttering warmth from building in his chest at the thought of sitting next to Sherlock when his pitched his voice so low like that.

"Yes," Sherlock said leveling a now simmering stare at John. He lounged artfully on the couch with long arms spread along the back in an inviting gesture. "I perceive you need comforting, and I'd like to give you some."

John cleared his throat and stared at the detective. His aura dripped with sex. Somehow he didn't think Sherlock simply meant a hug. "Come now, John," Sherlock said putting a bit of understated force in his tone. "We both know it will do you good to be soothed a bit. I promise I will be gentle tonight."

"That's generous of you," John replied hoping to stall a bit longer. John wasn't sure he could do what Sherlock obviously wanted. He found himself beginning to panic and found it ironic that all the crazy shit that had befallen him since waking up from his jolt, this had the power to send him into a tailspin. "But, if we're going to be..." here John halted. Intimate? He couldn't think of a better word for the now purely lustful look in Sherlock's eye. "More than flat mates, then I'd like to take things slower. Maybe start from the beginning."

Sherlock's brow furrowed. John could see he did not like being told no. But, to his credit, Sherlock drew himself up from his sultry pose and straightened his spine. "From the beginning?" he asked looking John over using one of his deductive stares.

John swallowed nervously. What would Sherlock see if he looked closely? True enough, the proposed intimacy sounded tempting, but John couldn't go from zero to sixty in one night. If it were true that this universe had them in an established sexual relationship, then he'd missed out on a first kiss, the blissful honeymoon period, and the trust two people built up over years of intimacy. He knew it might not be possible to recapture all of that with this Sherlock, but maybe he might be entitled to a small amount of wooing. He straightened up also and tilted his jaw forward in an attitude of resistance.

"Hmm," Sherlock steepled his fingers under his chin, and John braced himself. "Despite your reluctance, you are not averse to being physical with me. You want me; you clearly liked it when I kissed you earlier, and your physical responses are consistent with sexual desire, but..."

John waited. Sherlock had stopped talking and continued to stare at him until he felt minutes melting into nearly a quarter of an hour. Yet, he stayed still and endured the scrutiny. The sultry seducer had suddenly been replaced with the world's best consulting detective, and John knew there wasn't much he could do when Sherlock went into thinking mode.

"You have never been with a man," Sherlock finally said blinking in surprise. "You want me, but you've never wanted any other men. This doesn't make sense, but when I deduce you, I can see it simply and plainly. It's written all over you. You desire me, but you don't know how to proceed with that desire. You do have only mild, submissive tendencies hence your willingness to be my partner on cases, but you are not a submissive."

"Brilliant as usual," John said breathing out a gush of relief. Once again, Sherlock's brutal honesty left him speechless. But, it looked as if Sherlock might understand his predicament.

Sherlock stood and held out a hand to John. "Let's go upstairs and clear out your room," Sherlock said. "We can move the gear to my room and change the sheets to something you'd prefer."

"Sherlock," John said. "We don't have to do that right now."

"But, you'd be more comfortable back in your old room, as it was," Sherlock said eyes glued to a spot somewhere between John's feet.

John had to admit the dungeon feel of his bedroom did unnerve him, but he could see Sherlock's distress at having to dismantle it. Even though he hadn't been in this relationship Sherlock seemed to believe they had, it felt too much like breaking up. John's heart rebelled at the idea in a way he hadn't expected.

"No, don't touch it. It's fine for now. Maybe we could just share your bed. My stuff's already in your room anyway, and we could just sleep together for now. I could get used to that first, maybe?" John said.

Sherlock's eyes snapped up, and a bright look of hope flashed through them before he steeled his face back into a neutral mask. But, John had seen the look, and it made him smile for the first time since he'd arrived in this upside down world.