dr-jh-watson

[dr-jh-watson]

John sighed and shrugged some, completely confused as to what all of this meant. John moved away from the microscope and sighed. John grabbed himself a cup of tea and rested back against the counter and just sat in silence.

He wished he was as quick as Sherlock, his eyes looked over and watched him just...move and go into his mind palace. John knew if he stayed silent it was the best for Sherlock, he did not want to...interrupt him.

John pulled his eyes away and just tried to put together anything he understood what was happening. 1:20....and John's mind immediately went somewhere else. It went to last night, how good Sherlock smelt, his lips, everything. John closed his eyes and cleared his throat, softly.

Not Now. He cursed at himself, mentally. He didn't need distractions.

1:20. Gravel. Blood, animal blood to be specific, Moriarty and.......her. John sighed as Mary was a link to all of this. But, why? John shook his head again.

"Anything?" John said softly, figuring it was enough time for Sherlock to put something together.

AGRAvating

My pearl? What was he meaning by pearl? "I'm surprised it took him this long to be honest with you. He must have gotten a bit too bored and just can't take it."

He just took a glimpse upwards for a moment, look at John, thinking. He may just learn yet. "Mm. He always knows, doesn't he? We can't so much as sneeze without someone knowing." He just shook his head slightly at the other question. Unless you counted asphalt then no. And he highly doubted that he was referring to it. 

It was only after John took over the scope that he read the last sent message. My pearl. What dealt with pearls? Bigger size meant more money, could be faked...he'd keep the fake in his mind somewhere. There was the saying 'Pearl of Great Price'...wait.

Fake.

Great price.

That couldn't be what he was referring to was it? Now that idea was swimming profoundly in his head. He had to find out. Moriarty sent out yet another text, he'd just ignore it mostly for now. Feel the wind. 

East wind obviously, a great turning of the tide, however you want to phrase it he was being blunt in that he was back. Completely and utterly back to the old. 

He sent out a quick text to Lestrade asking if he had any updates on a certain prisoner number. Yes, yes, he already had her number memorized. She was on his black list, and despite that something in the back of his mind itched wanting to know or at least begin to know the thought process behind Mary Morston. If there was any shred of a chance that she was connected to all of this he'd have to find out.  

[dr-jh-watson]

John looked at the message, he blinked a few times. "My pearl? What in the fuck is 'my pearl'." John sighed out in confusion. Johns was to set the phone down but he accidentally flipped through and saw there were more messages from Moriarty in Sherlocks phone. He blinked a few times. "He sent you messages exactly at 1:20 today and has been harassing you since...."

1:20. That was familiar....that was. "The kiss." John softly said under his breath. John stood there and just thought, be like Sherlock, think you are like Sherlock. Observe, John. OBSERVE. John could hear Sherlocks voice yelling at him to think about a case, on the spot. John closed his eyes and tried to remember.

"1:20 we left the club. Not even 12 hours later, Moriarty sends you messages. On the dot. He knows." He continued to think out loud. "Gravel...stones...blood." John shook his head.

"Sherlock, were you ever anywhere with Moriarty that possibly had stones and...blood around you?" John shook his head again, starting to confuse himself. "Sherlock, move! Let me look." John said as he wished to look through the microscope. He wanted to observe for himself. He looked through the scope and thought. "This isn't human blood," he said outloud "Animal. You can tell through the different cell formations. I don't know what....type of animal." John pulled from the microscope and looked at Sherlock.

"Why in the hell would he send you animal-blood coated gravel mixed in with normal gravel?" He blinked in confusion. And Sherlocks phone went off. Figured it out yet? Can you feel the wind? -JM

AGRAvating

Sherlock hummed with thought, "No, but he has been dangling this theft in front of me, might as well not ignore it." 

The doorbell on the word surprises couldn't have been coincidental. It wasn't feasible to be coincidental, which left only one thought lingering in the front of his mind. 

Bugged? More than likely. He'd have to dig throughout the main living space and see if there was any or not, still it didn't seem much his style. Spying. That was Mycro-ah. Access, he had found access to it. Using someone else to his advantage, now that was far better a cry from the psychopath.

He jumped to his feet, taking all the necessary steps to ready the device that John had yelled for. Red stones? Really? That was the big delivery? It didn't make much sense now but hopefully with some study it would be more obvious what sort of game he was playing.

He busied himself, taking a prolonged look at the single normal stone, if it was something along the lines of a stone that in a million years or so would be a diamond than it was obvious what the clue was. Anything other than that and he would have to throw away that train of thought and move on to something else.

It was sometime in that study that his phone beeped again. It was another message from the same number as before, only it was far vaguer than any of those before. "See what he has to say then, John. I think I know which compound this is if I look up I may lose track of it." 

The message simply read, 

My pearl sends the deepest regards to Johnny boy.-JM

[dr-jh-watson]

John cleared his throat as he wasn't sure what to do next. It was Sherlock Sherlock Holmes, for gods sake! You really know how to pick them, John. You wank. John laughed at himself, softly and took a deep breath. He looked at Sherlock, who was staring at him- intensely. He was deducing John's emotion and reaction right now and he just smiled at him. 

John wished nothing more from Sherlock. He just wished for everything to be the same, they didn't have to do anything different. John really enjoyed his time around Sherlock and he was perfectly content with them solving crimes together. It was new, to John, since most relationships were physical, emotional and mental. This....was so different.

John blinked as he stared at the text. He blinked. "On the way? I don't think he means on the telly, Sherlock." John stated as he looked at his....uh....lover? No...still friend....what the fuck? John confused himself for a moment but snapped back to reality. "He must be delivering something to you right now. It's Moriarty...he loves surpri----" and just then, John was being cut off by the doorbell.

"I got it." John said as he stood up and walked downstairs, he looked through the peephole- no one. He opened the door and stared down at the ground and saw an envelope. "Fucking, envelopes. Always." John muttered as he bent over and grabbed it. It was heavy and bulky, well, heavier than if it just had a normal piece of paper.

As John walked back upstairs, he opened it carefully and inside was contents of just stones. Some looked normal and some were covered in red. John leaned over and smelled the envelope, just gravel....But what was that red crap? 

"Microscope, Sherlock!" John said loudly as he walked inside. John walked over to the kitchen and carefully set one normal looking small pebble on a slide and one covered in red in another. Blood? Was that...John slid the slides closer to Sherlock before he picked a few more up from the envelope. "Look for blood. I think these are covered in blood..." John said.

AGRAvating

They did somehow work well together. Was John...oh right. Blushing. The veins in the face dilate causing blushing. He knew that much, adrenaline levels and that sort but the mental cause was something else entirely different. 

This would take some getting used to.

Abnormal even in something perfectly normal, why was that not surprising. Nice sentimental things, he should be able to do that, if the need arose. Get some assistance from someone else of course but...it was doable.

The moment was interrupted however by a sharp beeping of a text coming in. Sherlock took one glance at the text and his inquisitive mood was shot down. Same Indian number.

Breaking news you have a gift on the way, Sherlock.-JM

Breaking news...news. He flicked the telly to a news channel and was greeted with a reporter saying the word India. 

Damn Moriarty.

The report carried on, mentioning that not even an hour ago someone or a group of people more or less had ransacked a completely shut down museum that had just begun to set up a exhibit on ancient 'treasure'. A large collection of Hindi treasures. Tons upon tons of gold, bronze, pearls. 

A impossible theft. Who did that scream of. A gift? A gift...what sort of gift? Nothing good knowing the lunatic. Still, he handed the phone to John. Maybe there was some small something in the message that he got.

[dr-jh-watson]

"It's okay to not know everything behind this. It really is okay." John tried to reassure his friend "because I am right beside you, just as lost. But it takes two for a relationship to work, and we work...really we'll. Apparently." John said, in disbelief. He wasn't sure how Sherlock ever found himself connected to John.

Nothing ever happened to John. He was as boring as they came. His life wasn't anything special, other than serving time in Afghanistan. Otherwise, boring.

John felt his cheeks burn, was he....John was blushing. Sherlock made him blush. He felt, weird. He made Sherlock feel that way when he touched him? John cleared his throat and swallowed hard "That's fantastic, brilliant." He said softly and in awe. He was making Sherlock feel human day by day and he wasn't sure how. "Not many people experience that, what...you are feeling. That's just..wow." He said, sighing out in astonishment and laughing some,

"Gesture...?" John said confused "I..uh- well. Usually when someone likes another person, they do things for them. Nice things. Like buy them dinner, or gifts of things that person would like, just sentimental little things to show how grateful you are for having them in your life," John nodded.

AGRAvating

No logical explanation. It was strange but that made enough sense to make do. What did it feel like? Rushing didn't quite describe it. It took some more thought to finally put it half into words. 

"It's somewhat warm I guess...but more like a pulse. It starts in my stomach and goes outward." Settling? Staying? Thrumming was the right word for the actual touch but...he couldn't begin to describe it in anymore detail than that. "It...thrums just beneath the skin afterwards and stays there." 

One of those 'get used to it' things. Fantastic. Deep connection...that's what it was then. A deep connection. He wouldn't have immediately called it a deep connection but now it made far better sense then the other description.

Okay to be confused. That was a first. Surprisingly that had more or less answered most of what he had been extremely confused on. He was still very much confused but at least he was half aware that being confused over it was more or less a normal thing.Grand gesture? W..no. That one would do better getting an answer for. Hopefully anyway.

"I don't know what gestures people use. If I wanted to, what would be a...normal gesture?"  

He briefly wondered what in the hell the reaction was going to be. Mrs. Hudson would most likely hug them laughing with a 'I told you so' or 'Finally' or something to that nature. Anyone else...he didn't have the foggiest of an idea. Would there even be a reaction? 

[dr-jh-watson]

John raised his eyebrows. Sherlock really had no way of knowing of how to react. It was the normal confusion, no. It just was..not knowing. It was different. Johns confusion was very different from Sherlocks.

"There's no right or wrong way to react, Sherlock. It's all based on...how you feel when you are with that person. If you feel good inside or you feel nothing at all. Or of that person makes you feel good. That's what really matters." John paused for a moment, and blinked. Sherlock didn't know what any of that meant, or if it made sense.

"When it comes to human emotions and connections, it doesn't make sense. There is no logical explanation behind it. You know when you have an un solved case? It's like that. But instead of it making you feel empty and confused, you feel..connected and not so alone anymore. But that's if it's mutual." John smiled some.

"Is it warm? Does it rush through your body? Yes. I mean, it may not be as intense over time once your body gets use to it, but if you have deep connections with another being- that can happen." John swallowed some.

"Just be you Sherlock. You don't have to...change. Or feel like you have to change. And it's okay to be confused on how this all works. Even those familiar with the face emotions still can't grasp what exactly lies before them. I am not expecting you to do this grand gesture on your emotions towards me. I feel this way for you because of the way you are right now." John sat back on his chair. "Just know you never will be alone."

It was nearly impossible to explain these things to someone who never wanted to be loved.

AGRAvating

Well, that made two of them. He was completely and utterly confused. But what made it confusing? 

It was only after he listened to John's explanation carefully. That made sense...possibly. On second thought it didn't make sense logically, but sense none the less.

He didn't want to bombard the other with a thousand questions at once, so he started off with the biggest two. Thinking on how to word them, he didn't have a clue and stuttering about it wouldn't make it any easier to answer he was sure.

"A...no. That doesn't..." He ended up stuttering anyway. "How do most people react? I know the physical signs but I have no idea how I'm supposed to...well."  Hopefully it got across fine because that was the best John was getting at the moment. 

He went straight from that one to the other. "Am I going to...feel..." How to describe it? Not high...what was a good word? Fiery? No...he couldn't even think of a word that would even begin to describe that feeling. Not a single word, not a series of words, nothing. 

Finally he just settled on, "Whatever that feeling is every time I...we...touch?" 

[dr-jh-watson]

"Ah, right. Wouldn't be a normal day without him doing something to bother us." John rolled his eyes as he finished pouring himself tea and walking over to his chair before sitting down. He looked at Sherlock and wasn't sure how he perched himself like that for hours. It must have hurt.

It made Johns legs and back sore just from the thought of it. Fuck, he was old.

"Questions?" He raised his eyebrows as he took a sip of tea. He looked at his friend...or...what was he now? How fucking confusing. John had no idea how to think of him. And he just...he just kissed his cheek. He didn't even realize he did it until right now.

"Of course, please ask. It only makes sense for us to talk about...last night. And what just happened." John set his tea and saucer aside, picking up the newspaper and quickly scanning over it before pushing it aside. He focused on his friend.

"Wait: before you just bombard me with questions. Let me just..let me just explain. I am just as confused as you are, and I actually have experience with the whole emotional-connection-relationship thing. But what I felt last night was beyond anything I could ever explain. And being with you is beyond anything I could ever explain. I think it's just natural for two humans, who spend so much time together, to grow a connection. Something subconsciously." John rubbed the back of his neck. "But I'm not afraid of what it is. Not one bit. I just don't know where we go from here..."

John cleared his throat. "Now, you can ask me whatever you wish."

AGRAvating

He looked at John for a moment, motioning with a shake of his head and a held up finger for a moment. He was almost finished with his debate, he was losing aggravatingly.

John kissing him however was entirely new. So much so that he started to ask about it. The only downfall was the fact that he had started in in Hindi.

"Kyā āpa basa...Nahīṁ, nahīṁ. Āpa khēda nahīṁ. Apanē anta para kisī kō. Āpa mērī kṣamā yācanā kī hai." (Did you just...no, no not you sorry. Someone on my end. You have my apologies)

He clicked the phone off and chucked it into the couch. "International relations if you want to be technical. Being blunt. A certain...someone has made his next move obvious. I was just giving India a fair chance to try and fail at keeping their priceless artifacts from being stolen."

He got down from his stoop atop the couch, stretching out his legs after sitting in the same position for an hour. It would be a grand 3 hours or so before the same man or someone of higher standing called him back demanding answers. Etc.

Subconsciously he drummed his fingers against the cheek that still had a thrum of a tingle running through it. That wouldn't...happen every time would it?

Right emotional response conversation. Now.

"We need to talk-not bad, just...I need to ask you some things."

[dr-jh-watson]

John had passed out in his clothes from the night before, his damn clothes! His shoes were even still on his feet. He was sound asleep and the day was slowly slipping him by. Thank goodness he did not have work today, or...maybe he did and he just slept through every alarm. Well, he better have some explaining to do.

The sun finally was able to shine through his blinds and hit right on his eyes. He groaned, loudly.

"Bloody hell," he growled, his eyes too heavy and his head. "My fucking head." he said again. 

There was some movement of life, finally. Much too late in the day, head pounding, and a head of serious bed hair- John finally arose of his bed. He heard movement downstairs. "How the hell..." he was certain Sherlock got as drunk as him but how was he moving so much.

"Stop. being. loud." John muttered to himself, wishing the rest of the world heard it. Finally, he gave in and pushed himself out of bed...realizing, he was still in his clothes from last night. They smelled of alcohol and sweat, and of course, smoke. "Christ sake...I am definitely not what i use to be." John muttered, walking to his bathroom and cleaning himself up. 

Finally, human again. 

And.....Something happened last night. Something that John was certain needed to be talked about. His heart lurched. Ms. Hudson could never find out, oh bloody hell, she would go on for days! "Bloody days!" John said in the shower. Soon enough, he was cleaned up and dressed in all new attire. His usual plaid shirt and jeans. He made his way downstairs.

"Sherlock, please tell me you have something to ea---" he was saying as he was walking down the stairs and into his apartment, but, quickly stopped when he walked in on a very still Sherlock and speaking a different tongue. He burrowed his brows together and leaned in, was he still drunk? What in the....

"Sherlock, what is going on?" John said, worried.

And, out of habit. Out of instinct, and out of pure reaction towards his emotions and without even thinking twice about it- John walked over to Sherlock and leaned over, kissing him on the cheek before turning and walking to get himself tea. It was something he was use to doing when he felt something with someone, just kissing them on the cheek when he greeted them. He paused and realized what he had done, looking over at Sherlock from the kitchen and giving him a smile.

AGRAvating

Sherlock woke around noon the next day, starting up a routine. Kettle on, telly clicked on, that sort of thing. He busied himself for a good while, anxiously waiting for John to wake, they seriously needed an emotional-response discussion. 

Time ticked by and the ritual was unbroken, he distantly heard his phone beep and without really looking at it opened the text, finishing up what he was doing before turning his attention to the object. 

It was from an international number. 

1:20 P.M

From: 91-562-5466

Been waiting for me to make the first move then? Oh, you’ll see it soon enough. -JM

Another one was sent in quick succession.

1:20 P.M

From: 91-562-5466

I’ll go ahead and give you a clue. What’s glittery, large, and supposedly impossible to steal? -JM

He really didn’t need this. Of all days…ALL DAYS…well. He supposed the other couldn’t stay in hiding forever. 

Still. That number code…where was it from? Certainly not England. 91 was India he knew that much…it would take a little research to figure out the rest however. 

By the time that John came down for the first time that day he was busy on his own phone, laptop sitting precariously on top of a long since cold cuppa. He was speaking slowly but surely in a language that John Watson had surely never heard before. 

"Maiṁ āpa kisī kō isē cōrī karanē jā rahā hai samajha mēṁ nahīṁ lagatā!" (I don’t think you understand, someone is going to steal it.)

He was getting more and more frustrated with the person on the other side of the line if his tone was anything to go by. 

"Ṭhīka hai, yaha saba ēka pāgala ādamī kē hāthōṁ mēṁ jānē diyā. Mujhē paravāha agara dēkhēṁ." (Fine, let it all go into the hands of a madman. See if I care.) 

[dr-jh-watson]

John had no idea what was next. Was Sherlock going to storm off? Was he could to call him an idiot? Was he just going to stare at him with that blank look masking disgust. What was going to happen!?

His brain was slow. Did he just...AMAZING!? Did Sherlock Holmes just refer to something human as amazing? Something that wasn't deformed and dark, something as simple as a kiss...he labelled it...."Amazing." John finally repeated. He lifted his head and cleared his throat.

"Did you..." John doubted his own reactions. A smile formed on his lips, and he will take it. He knew Sherlock wasn't going to repeat it.

Regret nor embarrassment rushed over John. Not even for a second. Instead, his heart was pounding against his chest. The same way it did whenever Sherlock and John had those connections without realizing it. Those moments they laughed and joked about..everything, the same way it raced out of control when Sherlocks attention was stolen from The Woman.

So that WAS jealousy. It all made sense. It all made so much sense.

"So, there's that." He softly said, clearing his throat again. He was afraid if they touched again the world would explode. Sherlock had to feel that, he had to. 'Amazing', it repeated in Johns brain over and over again.

John was just able to make Sherlock feel the most human he probably will ever experience. And John never felt this from a simple kiss before. He wanted more, but, he did not want to push his luck. He couldn't.

"Let's get out of here." John said, reaching over and taking Sherlocks hand in his and leading them out of the club in order to call down a cab. His fingers stayed entangled with Sherlocks, assuring the male he enjoyed every second of tonight with him. He only slowly pulled his hand away once the cab arrived for them to head home.

John just realized what time it was. 1:20 AM. Meaning it was January 29. It was the anniversary of ever meeting Sherlock....

The world wasn't so dizzy anymore. Or so lonely.

Our First Date

No John, why was that so surprising? Really, had they never had this discussion? Scratch that, why were they having this discussion? How had the idea wormed itself into John's head to find out anyway? 

What was the point?

He was going to retort with a simple, no, when all train of thought shattered. There was nothing logical left. John was kissing him.

For the first time in his entire life the buzzing in his head stopped.

Not slowed, stopped.

He just...stood there. Completely frozen. No matter how hard he tried he just couldn't move, couldn't breathe...nothing. His stomach twisted not in a bad way, definitely not in a bad way, the floating was back, far fuller in feeling than before, and a burning feeling raced down his spine. 

...so that's what it felt like. 

Kissed. Huh. 

What were you supposed to DO?! Hell if he...no. Hell didn't cut it. Fuck if he knew! Was that feeling normal? ...more emotional discussions where he felt like an idiot was bound to happen and soon. 

As soon as it was over he felt like he could breathe again. His hands were shaking and he was positive he had this look on his face. That was...no...that didn't quite...what was that? There was a word that fit.

Astounding. Completely and utterly..."Amazing." He felt himself breathe the last word. 

Oh, John was looking...what was with that look? Straight at the floor..ashamed? Surely not...was he really? His stomach lurched, this time it was a nasty feeling.

He better not be, he better...if he is, Sherlock was going to be rightly pissed at him. 

He better not be.

[dr-jh-watson]

"I am not drunk!" A seunken John explained before he laughed. "Ok I am a bit drunk."

John just narrowed his eyes at his friend. Was Mycroft telling the truth? He wasn't being a pretentious cock when he explained Sherlock had never experienced what most humans have. Love. Sherlock has never felt another human on him. Another pair of lips on his.

But it was Sherlock. He didn't believe in such emotions. Such emotions were the weakness to man kind, so Sherlock thought. But how did he know that? How could he possibly know that if no one he ever felt a connection with shared that feeling with him through a kiss.

John...him. It was him. Was John the first person Sherlock ever felt close to? As close as he could with another human?

"you never....had anyone grab you and..." John just stopped himself. How could he have?

Fuck it. It was up to John.

John grabbed Sherlocks face and immediately pulled him close to him, his fingers sliding back and into the deep curls of his black hair, pressing his palm into his head and pressing his lips against his own. Cold, thin...but so soft. John moved his lips against Sherlocks. That connection...that connection everyone talks about, John felt it in his heart and in the lump of his throat. And John slowly pulled away from Sherlock, swallowing a bit. He cleared his throat and pulled away from Sherlock "there...." He said softly, staring at the floor

"Plenty." The next comment sent Sherlock laughing. "You are drunk. Mrs. Hudson will be livid thinking I went out and got you that way, might as well just to stay out until she's asleep anyway."

John had that thinking wrinkle again. It was one of those things he did, get this light wrinkle across his forehead when he gave something some serious thought. What was he thinking about so hard? 

They ended up touching again. It wasn't much, a very light touch in fact, but it was something new. He was almost positive that he had twitched slightly in response. That feeling was just not going away! Oh, alcohol was not his forte, if the flip of his stomach was anything to go by. Did he shift his hands around funny? Most likely. He'd have to try and pay more attention then.

Where did that question come from? "You know me, should be obvious. No." Unless you count a woman drugging you and dragging a riding crop across your face as a kiss then no.

Definitely no. 

[dr-jh-watson]

John seemed to lose track of everything going on. The bourbon finally settled, he felt...comfortable. He felt, good. He was having fun. With Sherlock, of all people! Not saying he didn't have fun with Sherlock, but it wasn't in the normal human behavior they were indulging themselves into tonight.

John had forgotten about the case as he danced with his best friend. The world seemed to be much more blurry, Sherlock was..wow. He was so tall! John laughed to himself as he looked at Sherlock. The other man made John feel like at home. He felt so safe wth him. He had forgotten what that felt like...being safe.

"Deduce enough?" John asked, leaning close to Sherlock so he could hear him. The must have been on the floor for...it seemed forever. Then again, they really were enjoying themselves.

Ah, what would Ms. Hudson think? She will go mental. Well, she probably will just say 'I told you so!'

"I don't want to go home. We should continue to party. Or I mean, fuck it! We never take a day off and enjoy the night. Let's just fuck it all and get mental!" John said, laughing and throwing his hands up in the air.

John felt something in his gut, a clenching type feeling that rushed through your heart. He wanted to touch Sherlock again. He wanted...he wanted to understand what all of this was. Were other people...? And everytime John touched Sherlock, Sherlock just froze. Like time stood still for him. He wasn't sure if he enjoyed it or was disgusted. Then again, Sherlock would just scowl of he hated it. So, John slyly brushed his fingers over ontop of Sherlocks knuckles, acting like it was an accident of their hands touching since they were so close and well...dancing.

And John felt something it...no. No. John, quit being an idiot.

"Sherlock. Have you ever k-kissed anyone?" John asked, stuttering just a bit from the almost of alcohol in his system.

Our First Date

He didn't think that John would actually...well. That was far easier than he thought it would be. Four drinks was officially John's tipping limit. He'd file that back for future reference.

...his was two. Although...he did have a bit more experience on the dealing with the high feeling, so it didn't make too major of a difference.

 Being drug to a dance floor by a much shorter John Watson told him that three was more than likely the reasonable limit. Still. He might be enjoying it slightly. 

Only slightly.

 Still, it had been absolutely years since he had actually danced. He would be lying if he said that he wasn't really starting to enjoy it. John was just the right height to not be incredibly awkward movement wise, he just had to get out of the it's John mentality. 

That turned out to be incredibly easy. Still. He did notice some new things about the shorter male. He was warm for one. Not hot but warm skin-wise anyway. He didn't have much time to notice much else, other than the forced part in his hair, it was new but nothing special. 

Cute? Them? What was it about them that screamed CUTE? John really first da--all thought screeched to a halt. There was that bloody feeling again. It almost forced him to lose his footing somewhat he caught himself and continued long before hopefully it was noticeable.

Right, they had a client. Focus. It took some time, dizzying time, but they had made it to a good enough spot and with every turn Sherlock noticed another thing about their supposed stalker. 

The man screamed doctor, boss? Possibly. He'd need to compare the face to a database first just to be safe. For now they would have to try and make it back to safety...so to speak.

[dr-jh-watson]

John found himself finishing his drink and grabbing another when Sherlock ventured to get bar. He felt many eyes on the two, he also felt like they were the oldest there. Definitely had to be. But Sherlock looked much younger than he was, John definitely looked his age in comparison. Sherlock had this beauty to him that John never understood.

"Alright. Let's go show off those dance moved of yours." John smirked. He grabbed a hold of Sherlocks arm and made the way through the crowd. It definitely had much more people. Frank and his boyfriend were in a corner while the said to be stalker was on the opposite side. He seemed to be staring down their client...but everyone was staring eachother down.

Clever. Of course it made sense to follow one to a club of this sort. Easy to stalk in a crowded place filled with others doing the same thing. John finally found a good place that was close enough for Sherlock to deduce. But, of course, they had to dance in order to blend in.

John finished his drink. Was this his third? Or fourth? He lost count....

"The game is on!" John said, laughing as it was all he could do when he took Sherlock in his arms and the started to dance to the music they were use to in their teens. Luckily it was a oldies night, it made this much easier.

Sherlock smelled...so good. Did he always smell this good? But he was cold. John noticed how cold Sherlock was when he was overdosed but he assumed it was the drug. John just assumed Sherlock wasn't very, well- just didn't care much to keep an appearance. His shirts were always way too tight...not like John was looking that hard.

John found himself enjoying being this close to Sherlock and dancing with the male. What...no, it's just the alcohol John. Just, the alcohol.

'You two are SO CUTE. How long?' A random stranger said towards Sherlock and John in the middle of the dance floor. "Uh. This is our first date!" John replied with a smile. John leaned up and gave Sherlock a kiss on the cheek- all for science. The stranger grinned 'you two are so great!' He said before continuing on wth his dancing. John....just....kissed Sherlocks. His skin was so cold, but so soft. He cleared his throat and just hoped...they wouldn't remember.

Our First Date

...then John took Sherlock's hand. That in of itself shouldn't have mattered much. It was the feeling that was left behind that was the issue. Same thing as a few weeks ago. A tingly floating feeling.

Not heroin side-effects then.

Sherlock took John's advice to heart. Not the getting a drink thing, that would require a controlled...screw it all that feeling needed to go immediately. He did end up getting a drink. First delving into alcohol...and it was at a gay bar. So went the life of Sherlock Holmes.

It took almost half an hour for Sherlock to spy a man hovering nearby, it was very classic, eyes pinned to their client with hawk-like precision.

"9 o' clock. Can't deduce much from here. No way across other than through the middle. John?" The unasked question was obvious.

[dr-jh-watson]

John needed a drink. STAT. This was beyond his own comfort level, the things he did for cases. Unbelievable! John pushed his way through the crowd and made it to the bar, pushing up on the tips of his toes and ordering himself a bourbon. Straight. No ice, no pop, just bourbon.

John sighed out contently when he felt the warm liquor on his lips. He needed to be comfortable. Soon enough, he found his way to Sherlock and heard 'That your boyfriend?'

John was immediately going to answer, but he just swallowed his words. When he heard Sherlock reply with a 'Yes', John slipped in and slid his hand into Sherlocks. Just to top it all off. "Ah, yes. Right. Dancing." John said, holding his glass up "Cheers." And once the stranger walked off, John pulled his hand out of Sherlocks. His fingers were so cold. 

"Making friends already." John said, smirking and having another sip. His eyes scanned and he saw Frank and his boyfriend on the dance floor. John leaned over "12 o clock, dead center. Now, to look out for his boss." John explained. The club was different from his days, desperate men were everywhere. And surely enough, if John and Sherlock were not careful, they might be swept away and torn from one another. Men were animals, fucking..."Animals" John said out loud. Is this how women felt in a bar? Did men really act this way? 

John thought for a moment and nodded. "Yeah...yeah we do" he said to himself. John definitely acted....strange when a beautiful woman came his way. 

"I suggest getting something to drink." John told Sherlock. "It will help...make this place seem more normal." John laughed. "I also assume his boss will be coming in soon. But we got to look out for one another. Gay men are vicious and they will take what they want with no shame. Don't accept drinks from strangers, not because it could be drugged...because then, you owe them a dance." John nodded, sipping his drink.

John had a suspicious feeling....Sherlock and himself may or may not be intoxicated sometime shortly.

Smitty's was in fact a club...of sorts. The owners were an older couple who had decided that something with an older style of music would be a nice little idea.

For some unknown reason it was an immediate hit and packed itself every single night. Like most businesses they had 'specials' and the like to attract different crowds. 

Sherlock just counted his blessings that it was some jazzy sounding live band playing instead of techno.That was one thing he couldn't stand even if he tried. 

The noise level would have to take some getting used to. An entire room full of people chatting and laughing until that buzzing sound. To someone who was used to being in a room of ten or less it was a bit of a personal shock.

Complete and utter strangers throwing compliments all over the place, snatching up partners to dance for a bit, buying drinks, all in all a complete world's difference compared to anything Sherlock Holmes was used to.

...this may not have been the best idea after all.

After a few minutes of really nothing, John had wondering just a little bit away to grab a drink, after all they were 'blending in', it came as a surprise that someone (who must have been completely nutters to think that he was good temporary company) walked up and asked just one question. "Oh my god are those Capezio?" 

It caught him so off guard that he didn't know how to react at first. "They are, ballroom?" The other man grinned, "When I was little." The other rambled on for a bit, and after spotting John returning chuckled. "That your boyfriend?" 

No. "Yes." He all but laughed, "You two definitely look good together! Does he know that you ballroom?" With the negative he moved to John and all but said, "You better let that man take you out for a dance, you might be surprised." He spun on his heel, "Nice talking to you, mate!" 

[dr-jh-watson]

Of course, the two being dressed in their finest wear for going out (rather than the usual), every place they stopped at they were addressed as if they ere partners. John being beyond the point of returning with his short temper, frustration was boiling in his blood. His only reaction was to blow up in the cabbie on the way to the bar.

"BLOODY HELL. Two adult men can't go anywhere...No! It's always something. Always fucking something. Someone always had something to say." John went on...and on. Until he stopped. Catching his breath and straightening out his shirt. "Much better" he assured himself as all the frustration had seemed to trickle out.

John looked at Sherlock. "Uh. I suppose have a few drinks, act like we are actually at the bar, or club, of whatever we are going to. We have to blend in. We can't just lurk in a corner and stare down Frank and his boss." And then it hit him. "Oh, bloody fucking hell. We are going to a gay bar. Great. Of course the town is going to just love that. Fucking, love it." John groaned and rolled his eyes. "I guess we have to act....gay?" John said confused

The can pulled up to the front of Smitty's. John paid for the cab and slowly got out. Immediately, eyes were on the two. There was a line out the door. Men, men everywhere. Soon, John received a text. "Ah, we are on the guestlist." John cleared his throat and walked up to the bouncer, announcing their last names and they were let through. It was crowded, but enough to walk in.

Our First Date

The not gay had somehow become something of a ritual between landlady and tenant. Sherlock always kept out of it, if only to keep the arguments short. 

It was after John had started towards the door that Mrs. Hudson gave him a whispered, "Now don't show off too much, Sherlock." He snorted, don't show off. So he gave Mrs. Hudson a half-goodbye and followed John to the door. 

The ensuing taxi ride was rather quiet, as was the meal, held at a favorite of his, which miffed John even more because the owner had once again refused anything other than the two getting a candle for the thousandth time. 

The rest of the trip to Smitty's was anything but quiet, from John's fuming to Sherlock's own slowly building rack of nerves. Strangely enough alcohol had never been anything interesting to the sociopath, he knew the statistics and chemical compounds and such but that was the length of it.

Forget any sort of manners or emotional responses.  

Now, if the two was forced to participate for the sake of keeping up an appearance..."How is this going to work, then?"

[dr-jh-watson]

John opened up the fridge and sighed when she saw a head staring back at him. He grabbed a bottle of water and opened it up, closing the door, and waited for Sherlock. He set the bottle down once his friend emerged. John smiled. "Alright. Let's go."

He turned on his heel and started to head downstairs and saw a Ms. Hudson down the stairs- waiting.

'I heard about something you two going out to dance. How sweet! Oh, how sweet. So nice of you Sherlock to help John get over..you know who!'

"It's for a case, Ms. Hudson.

'Yes yes. Of course! It always is.' She winked

John sighed out in frustration. "NOT. GAY!" He slammed his foot down.

'Oh dear. It's so cute when you get so frustrated! I understand. Being in denial is the hardest thing.' She patted johns back before giving them both a kiss on the cheek. 'Be safe the both of you.' She said happily and clapping her hands together.

"Sherlock! Let's go!" He said, frustrated and headed for the door. Note, which John didn't even realize he was doing, he always said 'not gay' not implying he didn't like men. He just specifically said he wasn't gay. Was he curious of both genders without realizing it? Or was he just curious for Sherlock? Who knew. John definitely didn't. But, John knew he couldn't love without Sherlock. That was a fact.

Our First Date

John gave him one of those 'you're being strange' looks. He must have looked more excited then he thought. 

Oh, well. John will just have to get used to it. This thought sent him on a hunt for said pair of shoes. He finally had a chance to wear them and he was taking it. 

It took a few minutes, but he finally found the dust-coated box stowed away in a small pile within the closet. A little dusting and the single pair of oddly colored deep blue shoes was more than new looking. How old were these things again? Eight no...ten years old? Something along those lines.

Now to decide on...everything else.Eventually he just gave up, going with what Mrs. Hudson said about colors and all that nonsense. 'When in doubt just wear black.' Just because it was useless information didn't mean it wouldn't become useful eventually. 

...and she made these funny little happy noises when she blabbered on about the stuff. It was amusing to say the least.

It was simple enough, he didn't own any sort of denim...useless material that, impedes movement far too much. So plain black slacks and a black button down it was. 

"Yes, good, fine. Give me a moment!" He finished up with the last shoe, rocking on his feet to ensure that they still fit and stepped out of his room finally.

[dr-jh-watson]

John just watched Sherlock. He was of fun his own world again...of course. John just smiled as he watched his best friend go into a fit of glee..? No. No. Sherlock Holmes was not. Was that. That was it. Sherlock really was having a good old time in his head.

"Well. I am going to get myself prepared for tonight. I assume going to the hospital is off since we won't have time for that and the bar. Plus, I bet the doctor will find it odd if he sees us in both places." John said, his eyes narrowed as he was trying to understand what Sherlock was going through.

Instead, he slowly rose and made his way through the loft and up to his own room. It was much neater and cleaner than Sherlocks place. Also, brighter. But. It still felt....dull. John was forced to buy a lot of new bedding and other items since anytime he walked into his place- it smelled of Mary. That perfume...John pushed it aside and got himself ready for the night. He hoped otp the shower and decided...why the hell not? Why not have a little but of fun and actually try to dress decent tonight. Once he dried off, he put on a simple grey button down tucked into a pair of dark denim that were cuffed above his black shoes.

He groaned at the weight he gained. He rolled his eyes and threw on a simple black blazer before heading back downstairs. "We should grab some food then meet...well. Arrive at the bar. " he called out, waiting for Sherlock since he was still rummaging in his room.

Our First Date

At least he got John laughing some. Dancing shoes? Finally, FINALLY, FINALLY!...oh he was looking excited wasn't he? That needs toning down. Still. Years now, years and dancing was finally useful. 

Finally useful. Take that Mycroft. Actually now that he thought about it...he sent out a quick text.

Dancing is useful you prick. -SH

The response was almost immediate.

 Is not. -MH

The two continued the is not's and is to's for a few minutes before Mycroft yielded via ignoring the text. 

He hummed his agreement to the creepy comment. Stalkers were always the creepy ones. But never mind that. 

Dancing! It wasn't like dancing was anything special to Mycroft...it was one thing he was extremely good at for some unknown reason. Mycroft teased the mickey out of him for it but he could remember paying attention to dancing competitions with the upmost attention. Mummy absolutely loved the idea. It never came in handy...until now. The thought sent a chuckle escaping. 

The dancing shoes were probably supposed to be a joke. Too bloody bad. He did have dancing shoes stowed away carefully beneath something in the hurricane of a mess that was his room. 

"I could find something suitable I'm sure." He finally answered realizing that he had been far too quiet for the question to be normal. Speaking of...what in the hell did you DO at a club/bar/whatever it was?! 

[dr-jh-watson]

John looked at Sherlock and nodded. "I am ready for an adventure." John said, forcing out a smile.

John raised his eyebrows and then a genuine laugh escaped his lips. "I would love to punch you again. Sometimes, you really need a good punch. Or twenty. You cock." He smirked, laughing again. His mind raced back to outside of Irene Adlers home, John knocking Sherlock straight in the face. And then it slowly moved to the way Irene and Sherlock spoke. Like they were distant lovers...and something inside him felt uneasy. Jealousy? No. No way. But, John resented thinking about the Woman and Sherlock.

Resented it.

"Oh. A text." John stated as he read the text from Frank. "Hope you have a nice pair of dancing shoes, Sherlock. We are going to Smitty's." John said as he pushed his mobile into his pocket. "Frank and his boyfriend are heading their tonight and I assume his boss will not be far behind. All so creepy, isn't it?" John thought for a moment and shook his head.

Our First Date

He didn't miss the look. It was tiny movements like that, just the small ones, that would send a flash of worry up his spine. Get his mind off of it. Say something. Break the thought, Sherlock. 

"It's something to work on, John. Full or not. True, we could do both. Either would allow us to keep an eye on what's going on." A memory of brawling on the street angrily murmuring at each other after he had asked him to punch him in the face. 

"You could always punch me again, that worked last time." Hopefully the reminder would chase the thought away for another few hours, or minutes, or...anything really. Any distraction at all was a welcomed blessing at the moment. 

[dr-jh-watson]

'I understand. I just want to be able to sleep knowing I am okay. I am sure you both understand.' Frank explained. 'Well. Here is my information. I must get to my shift at the hospital. Please let me know if you end up taking the case or not. If spec I would agree with you Sherlock. You both following my stalker. I will tell you all my whereabouts and such. Anyway, I hope you both have a splendid afternoon.' Frank said as he stood and left his business card before leaving.

John waited for the door to close. "Follow his stalker? Really Sherlock? You don't think this case may be a bit too...full for your taste?" John said in a confused manner.

John sighed a bit as Sherlock went into his thinking phase. "Alright. Ill text him telling we take it." He pulled out his mobile and told the client they were taking it. John thought this was all a joke but then again, things have been so heavy on the two. Maybe it was time to take on a case that was...not as dark.

Mary. John reached up and grabbed the left side of his shirt and clenched over it where his heart was sitting. He cleared his throat and quickly pulled his hand down.

"I assume you wish to do detective work of your own. Fake an injury and go deduce his boss? Or figure out who his clients are and pretend we are visiting them?" John just splurged out ideas

Our First Date

He soaked in the information, making sure that once he was gone to send a short text to the homeless network to keep an out for anyone following the man. He got back affirmative responses that they would.

As good as that would be he thought that this might need quite a bit of personally involved fieldwork.

"Stalkers are tricky...you have to you have to catch them directly in the act, and have plenty of evidence proving it. More people are released for stalking then actually punished for it...we could always try to 'stalk' the stalker, that would be the easiest route."