Between The Raindrops- A Johnlock Fanfiction (Sequel to Beside You)

Chapter Thirteen- We've Got a Date

A/N- This chapter is sort of a filler (which, yes, I did rewrite) with some suggestions, because I’ve been busy fangirling over THE FREAKING INTERACTIVE TRAILER and planning some very important stuff, mainly for the sequel. I’ll reveal the title at the end of this chapter. Let me know what you think, anyway! :3

John

My eyes still felt as if they were half glued shut from tiredness when I woke up the next morning, so I allowed them to droop closed again, judging by the light that the curtains were still closed, and by the comforting rise and fall of his warm chest that I rested against, Sherlock was still there.

“Good morning, love,” murmured my favourite voice in the world.

“Hey, Sherlock,” I replied, with a yawn, not opening my eyes but letting myself smile as his smooth lips made contact with my forehead. “How did you know I was awake?”

“Your breathing and pulse rate changes,” Sherlock trailed his hand up and down my back gently. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thanks to you,” I replied honestly, opening my eyes a little to the welcoming sight of his chocolaty ruffled bed-hair and broad smile. “I’d better get up then,” I started to try to force my system to full awareness, although the world seemed so heavy and faint right now, but Sherlock stopped me.

“No, no, rest up, love,” he nuzzled his lips tenderly near my tired eyelid.

“But you said we had plans…” I felt my mouth widen in another yawn. “Just let me-”

“Nope,” he chuckled, pulling me back down to him when I tried half-blindly to rise. “We’ll still have plenty of time for all that.”

“Okay,” I sighed gratefully, and nestled back into his chest. “Wake me up if I sleep for too long…”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Sherlock whispered, and I was too far gone to argue.

“It was originally a stronghold” Sherlock informed me as we gazed up at the Bastille monument later that, whilst I took pictures on my phone. “Some of the stones can actually still be found in the station. Might have gone past a few on our way here, actually,” he then glanced at me apologetically. “Sorry, John, I don’t mean to bore you… It just comes out.”

We’d recently arrived at the Bastille Metro station, and walked through the weaving tunnels that seemed longer than usual before emerging out into the open air in front of the large monument, which commemorated the storming the prison where the revolutionaries were held- no point in saying where I learnt that.

“You’re not boring me, Sherlock,” I sighed, squeezing his hand. “You actually know the difference between the band ‘Bastille’ and the statue.”

“Band?” he turned to me, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah- you know, Pompeii?”

“The Roman city destroyed by a volcanic eruption?” he tilted his head slightly.

“Um… The song. You know- But if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing’s changed at all, and if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like you’ve been here before? Have you heard it?”

He chuckled, and nodded. “Yes- fifteen times, actually- Molly always did keep me rather updated with that kind of thing. I just wanted to hear you sing it.”

“Sherlock!” I exclaimed, feeling my cheeks burn.

“Don’t be embarrassed- you have a lovely voice,” he wrapped his arm around me, pulling me as close as possible to him.