#again do i regret anything? nnnno.

[angeltism]

okay honestly any time I feel negatively I just tell myself that at least one being finds me complaining annoying and it motivates me to nawt only accept my sad feelings, but get them out in a healthy (?? maybe) way.

With that being said I was reminded of the 100 note post thing I did for the sillies and how fucking good everything was before aaaand now I am mildly upset. Yay!

[mandysimo13]

Chapter 7 - Where is My Gallant Knight

Chapter 7 is up, guys, gals, and non-binary pals! This one is a doozie and a long one so I hope you folks enjoy! I’m just so giddy after writing this I can’t stand it! - Also on AO3 (X)

It was no surprise to John that he woke up with an armful of Sherlock. His chest fluttered with fondness but tightened immediately with guilt. He had been so close to taking advantage of his charge and John felt himself frown as he looked down on the sleeping man. It didn’t matter that Sherlock was a grown man, fully capable of making his own decisions. He came into Sherlock’s life because of a job. A job he was well on the way to finishing. That job did not include seducing Sherlock before dropping him off at his doorstep.

But that didn’t stop him from wanting it desperately.

Sherlock shifted in John’s arms, clearly still asleep, and a new wave of guilt invaded John as he watched Sherlock dream. Knowing he should give the man some privacy, John started to slide backwards and out of the bed but Sherlock’s arms tightened around his torso, preventing his escape. He whined softly in protest and John settled down into the mattress again for fear of waking him. Wanting to soothe him, John brushed the hair back from Sherlock’s face, noting the frown lines creasing his brow. Clearly, whatever his dream was, it was not a pleasant one. Sherlock whimpered once more and burrowed his face into John’s neck.

“Shh,” John cooed softly, stroking the man’s hair as Sherlock’s dream further distressed him. “I’m here.”

“Juuh,” Sherlock’s drowsy voice huffed into his neck. “Nnnno.”

John’s eyes widened. Was Sherlock dreaming of him? “Juh” could be the beginning of any number of words, not just his name. It could be coincidence.

John weighed the pros and cons of waking him. On one hand, he was probably going to be hungover and needed all the rest he could get. By the way the sun glinted in the window, they already lost a good head start of the day anyway and a couple more hours wouldn’t make much of a difference at this rate. But what if he was scared in his dream, his mind countered. You could comfort him while he was awake. Then he thought of how they needed to find Greg and resupply for the next leg of their journey.

All thought ceased, however, as he felt Sherlock’s lips press meaningfully into his neck. John stilled as if frozen. The skin on his neck tingled where Sherlock’s lips ghosted over him just above the collar of his shirt. It was apparent that whatever dream Sherlock had been having turned from a nightmare into something else entirely and John was both loathed to end it and wanted it to keep going. Sherlock’s fingers clutched the fabric tightly on John’s chest and the unmistakable feel of warm, hard flesh through two layers of fabric pressed into his stomach. Sherlock’s hips twitched minutely and then the decision to wake Sherlock was taken out of his hands.

Sherlock gasped awake. He went from warm and pliant to marblesque in the span of a second and loathed to feel the exchange from asleep to awake. From unconscious desire to waking regret.

Maybe he hadn’t been dreaming of me , John thought sadly.

Silence enveloped them and stretched out in unbearably long minutes until John broke it. “Good dream, I take it,” he teased, hoping Sherlock found the prod humorous.

Sherlock cleared his throat but refused to move his face from the security of John’s neck. “It was enjoyable, yes.”

“Dare I ask what it was about?”

Rather than answer, Sherlock scrambled over John to stalk towards the door to make an escape. John sat up, mouth open to stop Sherlock’s retreat but he was spared the need. Hand outstretched to turn the knob, Sherlock suddenly realized his state of dress and realized that, unless he wanted to scandalize the scullery maids, he would need to put clothes on. Greg’s nightshirt, while comfortable, was not at all suitable for public appearances.

John watched him as he snatched up his discarded clothes. He quickly jammed his legs into the trousers before whipping off Greg’s shirt and tossing it in John’s direction. It landed on the bed just as Sherlock brought the hem of his shirt over his head and settled it over his stomach. Another quick dart of his arms brought him his boots and he strode out the door barefoot and quite disheveled.

Once the door closed, John flopped back down onto the mattress and with a deep groan he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” John cursed to the empty room.

He kicked off the covers and quickly dressed himself. He took the extra time to do up his boots and shrug on his doublet and grab Sherlock’s as well before leaving their room. He sighed, knowing they would need to rent for another night. They still needed to resupply and he was sure it was nearing midday. No sense at riding off at this point, John scowled internally.

John made his way down the stairs and into the common room to find Greg happily munching away on food. Sherlock was nowhere to be found.

When Greg caught sight of John he waved him over and then waved over his girl from the night before. “Penny, this is my friend and employer, Sir John Watson.”

John made a bow and said, “how do you do, miss?”

“You’re The Sir John?! From the stories?!”

John nodded, uncharacteristically shy. Sherlock bolting had left him more vulnerable than usual and he felt his ears warm in embarrassment. “That I am. At your service.”

Penny perched herself in Greg’s lap and gave him a sultry look. “Should’a been at your service last night.”

“Oi! Weren’t hearing any complaints from you last night, missy,” Greg complained.

“Ooh, of course not,” Penny soothed, kissing him full on the lips.

“As touching as this is,” John gestured between the two, “have you see Sherlock?”

“Yeah,” Lestrade jabbed a thumb towards the door. “Saw him bolt outta here barefoot without his jacket. What’d you do?”

“Why does everything have to be my fault,” John asked rhetorically, dropping into the chair opposite Greg and put his head in his hands.

“Penny, dear,” Greg said, “would you mind getting Sir John a plate?”

“Of course.”

When she was gone Greg addressed John. “Look, I’m not blind. Something’s going on between you two, just admit it.”

“Nothing to admit,” John answered honestly. “We haven’t done anything.”

“Except wake up in each other’s arms every morning. And bicker like an old married couple. And tell each other stories of your childhood, even if I know you’re not telling him everything. Not to mention ignoring all else but yourselves this entire time.”

John frowned. “I didn’t mean to ignore you,” John said, chastised.

“I won’t say it doesn’t smart sometimes. But I get it. That’s part of the squire game, John. I’m used to being scenery.”

“You’re more than scenery, Greg.”

“We’re not talking about me here, John. We’re talking about you and Sherlock and this... thing you two have.”

“Which is nothing,” John said firmly.

“So sure of that are you?” John nodded and Greg sighed. Penny returned with John’s plate and made herself scarce, knowing she was not welcome in the conversation. “Think about it. Do you really think that he’d still be here, letting you wrap your tentacly arms around him every night if he didn’t feel something, too?”

“He’s the one with the tentacle arms,” John decreed. “I never initiate the cuddling.”

“And yet there you are, every morning, happily snoring into his ear and he lets you. I love you, John, but the only time you and I ever cuddled was for warmth when we were adventuring in the unforgiving north in winter. And that was more out of survival than desire to hold you close.” Then he speared a bit of sausage and grinned at him before taking a bite. “Not that you weren’t a pleasure to spoon with, mind.”

John snorted a laugh despite himself. “Prick.” He stabbed into his own sausage and hummed in pleasure at having something in his stomach.

“In all seriousness. You should think about this before you go dismissing the signs, mate.”

“I have thought about this. You were there. He punched me and shouted that I was unwelcome to touch him. And while we’ve been friendly so far on this trip that doesn’t mean he wants me for anything. We don’t know if his magic has recharged itself, he could just be waiting until it is to go running off again. He hasn’t expressed interest in me, or “us”, while being awake. Some people like to cuddle and will do it to a troll while asleep. Means nothing.”

Greg just shrugged and didn’t press the point. They ate quietly for a few moments before he pointed at Sherlock’s forgotten doublet on the back of John’s chair. “Why’d you bring that?”

John cast a glance at it and shrugged. “Thought he’d stick around long enough for me to give it to him. He walked off without it and I felt bad, him running out half dressed.” Greg nodded and they finished their meal in peace.

After they ate they called for Millie and told her they’d be using the room for one more night. Not much later, the two made their way to the shops to stock up supplies for the next leg of their journey. Half bushel of apples, few wheels of cheese, loaves of hardened bread, more dried meat, and John pushed for a precious measure of salt for cooking. Next they paid their dues at the well and got all the water they could carry. Ladened with supplies, John and Lestrade crashed into their room to find Sherlock soaking in a steaming tub.

Tags under the cut                                                               Continued on AO3 (X)

@sweeter-than-cynicism @beadmaven@readermagnifique@conversationswithjohnlock @lawyermargo @sundayduck@cloakstone69@ellipsicalelle @salve-regina-mills @cannibalcuisine@thedownfaller@soldierjhwatson @fuck-off-watson@littlethingwithfeathers@benedictgingerbatch00

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