Sherlock Short Stories

Scared (of course he was!)

John's POV
I was angry with Sherlock.
He hadn't done anything really.
We'd been going out for a month you see, and every thing had been going smoothly - we hadn't argued more than usual and things weren't awkward - and we'd had lots of fantastic cases that month as well... and the papers weren't bothering us for our fame much any more and ... nothing had changed between us.
Which was exactly the problem.
Sherlock was no more affectionate.
No holding hands.
No kisses.
No hugs.
Hell! Not even a simple pat on the back!
And I knew, I knew, that Sherlock wasn't affectionate but it hurt. It hurt that he didn't show any interest in me. I so badly just wanted to... to show him that I love him!
So, one miserable Monday morning, with Sherlock still sleeping (an unusual occurrence) I took the chance to run down to Molly at the hospital.

"- So you see I'm not sure that he actually cares at all, I mean this is Sherlock Holmes we're talking about!"
"Has it occurred to you that maybe he does want to be affectionate?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean... he's Sherlock Holmes. Has he Ever been in a relationship with someone?"
"I don't know,"
"The answers no, he told me so. He's had flings of course, he's a living breathing God so of course he has but... look John what I'm trying to say is that with you this High Functioning Sociopath feels emotion. He feels feelings he very rarely feels." I could see the jealousy in her eyes but chose to ignore it.
"Right."
"He doesn't know how to navigate those emotions, let alone try to convey them to you... let him know you are interested... talk to him or just, I don't know, Hold his hand in the flat or hug him or something!"
"Okay."
I was kicking myself. Why had I never thought that Sherlock was scared? Of course he was scared!

When I returned to the flat, Sherlock was sat at the kitchen counter, head buried in a microscope with his thick curls springing around his face. He looked adorable.
"Hello John,"
"Hey sherl," I smiled at him, even though Sherlock wasn't watching, and made myself and him a cuppa.
"Tea, Sherly,"
"Thank you, John," Sherlock looked up briefly from
His experiment to give me a gentle smile (that immediately melted my heart) before turning back to his work. I watched Sherlock for a moment before finally finding enough courage to approach my boyfriend. With slightly shaky hands, I wrapped my arms gently around the detectives shoulders, hugging him from behind, and planted a gentle kiss against Sherlock's curly head.

There was no response.

Sighing, I went to pull away, believing that Molly had been wrong and that Sherlock simply did not feel affection. Why did I let myself be hopeful, I chided myself. But as I pulled away, Sherlock leaned towards me slightly, turning his head against My chest. I beamed like a child in a candy store and gripped my friend just that bit tighter, sighing contentedly. We remained like that for quite some time, Sherlock looking in a microscope but clearly only half-paying attention to his work and me with my arms wrapped gently around his bony shoulders. However, a sharp phone ring broke our peaceful silence.

"A case, John!" My heart swelled as I watched my boyfriend jump about the flat, excitedly grabbing his Coat and scarf. He sprung to me, grabbing my hand and dragging me into a taxi. He beamed excitedly at me before turning to the window to people watch. I, however, sat with my mouth agape because Sherlock Holmes - the Sherlock Holmes, my boyfriend and love of my life - was still holding my hand. He knew. He didn't know I knew that he knew. He immediately noticed me gripping his hand slightly tighter and sent me the most heart warming smile. We stayed like that for the their journey, quietly and peacefully excited for the case but enjoying each other's presence just as much.

The relaxed environment ceased almost as immediately as we pulled up to the crime scene. I could see Donovan and Anderson sneering at the taxi from behind the police tape even from the road and apparently so could Sherlock. He immediately tensed and slid his hand gently away from me. I frowned slightly, a pang reverberating through my chest slightly at the action. Is he ashamed of me? Was his affection just for show? Had I done something wrong?