Stand By You

Rain

caution: contains the spanking of disobedient detective

******

"We are here."

John Watson turned to look out the window, noting that they were indeed back at Baker Street. Finally. It had been a long drive, but it had given John time to think of what was to proceed. He glanced at his companion, who had fallen asleep two hours before, slumping over on John, his curly dark hair tickling John's cheek. Part of John hated to wake Sherlock, knowing that it would only bring more anxiety to the detective. But they surely couldn't stay in the cab all night.

"Sherlock." John gently rubbed Sherlock's shoulder. "We're home."

It took a moment or so, but finally his companion awoke, blinking a few times before sitting up, and looking out the window. Perhaps it was the late hour, but John could've swore he saw Sherlock's shoulders slump as his eyes fell on the door to their flat. 

John reached across Sherlock's lap, and opened the door. "Come on." He said it gently, but with enough firmness that Sherlock knew he shouldn't resist. It worked as John knew it would. Sherlock slid out of the cab, and hurried walked to the flat, while John paid the cabbie. It was steep, but it had a been a long night for all them.

Sherlock was already in the kitchen corner of the flat, filling the teapot with water as John came in. John took off his coat, hanging it neatly by the door, his heart thumping as he accepted what he was going to do. He turned towards the kitchen, approaching. Sherlock was rolling up his sleeves before reaching up to retrieve two larger teacups.

"Sherlock."

He hated the way it changed the mood. As by saying the name everything in the flat fell silent, even though there were only two living beings occupying the same space. Sherlock quietly sat the cups down on the counter before turning around. John wasn't surprised to see the look on his best friend's face. Several emotions were swirling through his expression. John simply waited, wondering which emotion was going to win. For those who didn't know Sherlock often assumed he was without emotion. But John Watson knew better. Sherlock was a different kind of emotion all together. A high functioning sociopath, he lacked empathy in different aspects, but John had seen him time and time again, rise above himself to lend a helping hand. It was there, you just had to look for it.

Sherlock stared at him, not bothering to reply to his name. John nodded at towards the corner by the window. "Go on."

Defiance won over the tiredness. "Why?"

"You know why." John matched his stance.

"Of course I know why." Sherlock glared. "Why now? What good is standing with my nose in a corner going to do?"

"It can help you process what has happened."

"I've already processed, thank you." Sherlock turned back to the kettle on the stove top. "Why not just put my over your lap and be done with it?" 

John blinked at the words. That was harsh, as Sherlock had meant it to be. They have done this dance before, John was used to the insults and tricks of the mind. But there was still a point where he questioned himself strongly before placing Sherlock over his lap. Was it for the good of the relationship? Would it help instead of hinder?

"William Sherlock."

Sherlock stiffened whether the use of full name, or the tone, John didn't know. He made sure to keep clear eye contact so that the detective knew he wasn't in any way joking. "You would like me to just place you over my lap, get the hard part done and over with, then off to bed. Well, I'm sorry. You aren't the one in charge here. I am. And I say, you go over in the corner before you have to contemplate two spankings."