Human (Johnlock)

Say Something

When John opened the door to his flat, he was greeted with the surprising, yet pleasant aroma of apples and the sound of a violin playing. The tune was light and airy, and somehow managed to put John's already relaxed mind even more at ease. He stepped further into the living room and found Sherlock perched on the sofa, swaying  from side to side as he coaxed the beautiful melody from his instrument. He lifted his eyes to meet John's and smiled, standing from his seat to saunter over to where John was standing. John noticed the intricate way his feet moved, almost as if he were dancing his way over to him, and he marveled at the fact that Sherlock didn't miss a beat of the song he was playing. John placed his bags on the floor and took off his coat, then turned to close the door just as Sherlock finished playing his piece. He lowered the violin and gave a small bow, and John presented him with as much applause as one person could produce. The corner of Sherlock's lips quirked upwards and he laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he did so. John smiled back, then walked past him and collapsed onto the sofa where Sherlock had been sitting.

"I quite like that one," he said, "What's it called?"

"Erm, Welcome Home John." John turned to raise a confused eyebrow at Sherlock and grinned.

"Yeah, thanks. But what's that piece called?" Sherlock walked over and set the violin down on the coffee table, avoiding eye contact.

"That's the title. 'Welcome Home John'. I composed it specifically for this occasion."

"What occasion?"

"Your coming home." John sat up a little bit straighter and stared at Sherlock, feeling a warm flush spread across his cheeks. He saw that Sherlock's face was equally as red, but he didn't seem bothered by it as he smiled over at John. "Do you like it?" His face looked hopeful, almost as if he were a young boy asking his mother to put his latest masterpiece on the fridge, and John couldn't help but laugh while he nodded his head.

"Of course. It's my new favourite song." Sherlock nodded his head, then bit his lip and looked down. If John hadn't been living with Sherlock for the past month and a half he wouldn't have picked up on the minute change in Sherlock's disposition, but he managed to see the shifting of his eyes and the way his fingers tapped nervously on his legs when he sat down beside John. "Is everything alright, Sherlock? You seem a bit-"

"Hold that thought John. I think the apple crumble is ready." John was just opening his mouth to ask Sherlock what he was talking about, but was cut off by the sound of a timer beeping. Sherlock gave him a cheeky smile before practically leaping off of the sofa and shuffling into the kitchen. John watched him from where he was sat, wondering what on earth had happened to his flatmate while he was gone. Perhaps he had begun experimenting with some mind-altering chemicals other than the ones he'd already become accustomed to. He stood up slowly and went into the kitchen to see Sherlock bent over in front of the oven, and just happened to notice that his exceptionally tight trousers left very little to the imagination.

John caught himself staring and managed to look away before Sherlock stood up straight and turned to face him. He held up the dessert with an overexcited smile, then placed it on the counter and turned off the oven. The delicious, warm aroma of freshly baked apples overtook John's senses, and he found himself licking his lips as he started down at the dessert.

"You made that?" he asked Sherlock, pointing at the dish and raising a single eyebrow at the man. Sherlock huffed indignantly and nodded.

"Of course I did, John. I don't-"

"Relax, Sherlock. No need to get your feathers all ruffled." Sherlock sighed but smiled, and pulled out two plates and forks from the dishwasher. John saw Sherlock's eyes glance briefly at the clock on the stove before he set about preparing two plates. He handed one to John, then they made their way over to the table and sat down. John told Sherlock about his time in Venice, ignoring the way his eyes continually drifted towards the clock on the stove during their conversation. Sherlock told John about the cases he'd solved and the few experiments he'd actually conducted, and though John could barely follow along with what Sherlock was saying he still smiled and nodded at what he hoped were appropriate times.