Collide - Johnlock

2 - Turn the Lights On

Bang 

Bang 

Bang 

CRASH

"WhAt tHe FuCk?" John launched himself out of bed, barely pulling on his dressing gown as he took the stairs to the kitchen three at a time. 

The room was dark, the drawn curtains blocking almost all outside light. Regardless, John knew Sherlock was in the room, he could hear his faint breathing, and could make out the figure of his silhouette. How did John know that the shadowed man in his kitchen was Sherlock and not some stranger coming to rob them? It wasn't because he spent much of his free time analyzing every inch of Sherlock's personality and appearance, and it defiantly wasn't because he could recognize the man he loved from a mile a way, in the dead of night, in a fast moving car, with barley a second glance. That definelty wasn't it. 

"Turn the lights on Sherlock for gods sake."

There was a shuffle followed by a small crash, and then the lights switched on. 

John had to blink a few times for his eyes to adjust, and when they did he wished they hadn't. It was a complete and utter disaster. 

Sherlock stood sheepishly grinning in the middle of what was once their kitchen, which currently looked more like a Jackson Pollock painting than any kind of livable space. Smoke wafted out of the microwave and a rather ghastly green substance oozed out of one of the many beakers that littered the kitchen table. 

But what was more concerning, at least from a medical standpoint, were the several broken beakers scattered across the kitchen floor. They were accompanied with various coloured liquids which were, most likely, all extremely dangerous. Amoung those was a red liquid. Blood? John blinked again, taking a step towards Sherlock and the mess. Blood. It was definitely blood. Sherlock's blood? Had to be. But where was he injured? John looked down at his bare feet, surrounded by glass, surprisingly they appeared fine. His eyes travelled up Sherlock until they stopped at his hands, a steady trickle of blood running down his slender fingertips. 

"My god Sherlock what the hell did you do?" There wasn't anger in John's voice, purely concern, well there was a bit of anger, but he hoped it didn't come through.

He ran across the remaining length on the room from his poisition near the steps to Sherlock, which admittedly wasn't very far, causing him to stop suddenly, leaving him standing very, very close to the other man. John avoided looking him in the eyes as he reached for his hand, turning it over to examine the long cut on his wrist.

It wasn't too deep, he wouldn't need stitches. Thank god. He let out a small sigh.

"Sit down there and let me grab my medical kit." He said, gesturing towards the living room, as not a single chair around the kitchen table wasn't covered in the reminence of the failed science experiment.

Sherlock silently obliged, taking a seat in his regular armchair as John retrieved his medical kit from the cupboard under the sink.

He kneeled down next to Sherlock, and began to apply cream to the cut. Sherlock winced as it touched his broken skin.

"Sorry."

"It's alright John."

The room fell into what could only be described as an awkward silence. John continued to dress and wrap Sherlock's wound, becoming increasingly aware of his eyes gazing down on him.

"I - uh - I don't think - um - I don't think you'll need stitches the cut wasn't very deep." John sensed Sherlock's nod, but he didn't dare look up. "If I dress it and give it a fresh bandage for the next couple of days it should heal up nicely."

He felt Sherlock nod again, but this time he did look up. Sherlock's head was bent down examining John's work. When his eyes met Johns he realized that they were extremely close, so close that John would barely have to move to reach out and...

He swallowed thickly, adverting his gaze back down to Sherlock's hand.

"What uh - what exactly were you trying to do back there?" He said gesturing towards the kitchen and hoping, praying Sherlock hadn't noticed... whatever the hell that was.

"I was testing to see how the venom of various snakes and spiders affects the human body after death."

"Oh right..." the gears in John's head started ticking like crazy, his first thought was that this was Sherlock, he should have known it would be something ridiculous. His second thought however was that venom was very, very, extremely dangerous and Sherlock should not be testing it, any single possible thing could go wrong even if he was injectioning it into... "wait a second did you just say dead bodies?"

"Yes."

"How the - where the - where did you put the body?"

"It may be why the mircowave is broken."

"You put a dead body in our mircowave?" If John wasn't angry for the mess before he was now, he had only brought a new microwave last week for crying out loud!

"Just a foot. The whole body wouldn't fit."

John stared at Sherlock, screwing his face up in his best combination of anger and 'what the fuck?' He watched as Sherlock's smirking face slowly dropped into one of sadness? Regret? Fear? Was Sherlock Holmes genuinely aware that he had made John upset?

For some reason the idea of Sherlock recognizing AND reacting to a human emotion made John extremely happy, and he found himself starting to smile. And then for some reason unknown to even himself, he started to laugh. He saw the start of a small smile spread across Sherlock's face and pretty soon both men where laughing.

It was beautiful, John realized, Sherlock's laugh was beautiful, and he was almost certain he was the only person in the world to truly hear it.

After what felt like forever Sherlock turned to John, "why are we laughing?"

"I - I don't know." John stated, slowly recovering his breathing.

The two smiled at each other again, and John took the time to admire how extremely beautiful Sherlock looked in the morning. His curly hair was sticking out in every direction, parts covered his face, others were pushed back from where he had run his hands through it in frustration. He still wore his pajamas, which John considered a refreshing change from his usual button-up shirt and dress pants. Not that he didn't love the button-ups, cause he did, he really loved the button-ups.

John wasn't sure how long he and Sherlock had been staring at each other, but it was definitely longer than people who are "just friends" stare at each other. Or maybe it was just a Sherlock thing, and not a crush thing, after all this wasn't their first staring contest, not by a long shot.

John looked down and noticed his hand, it had moved from the arm of the chair to rest on Sherlock's thigh. Oh god his hand was on Sherlock thigh. Had that been what the staring contest was all about? Sherlock waiting for him to move his hand?

He stood up abruptly. "Uh - do you - um - you wanna watch some telly?"

Sherlock replied with a nod and John picked up the remote.

They had finished the first episode of Doctor Who and were half way through the second when the phone rang. Well, Sherlock's phone rang. John paused the tv and waited to see who was calling.

"Yes"

"Mhmm"

"Okay"

"Yes. Right away."

Sherlock hung up and jumped out of his chair, "get dressed Watson, we have a case."