JOHNLOCKed in a Closet

A/N: First of All: THANK YOU FOR EVERYONE WHO IS STILL READING THIS 💚💚💚.
Also... I really hope that this saying "if you hate what you are writing, you are a good writer" is true. Because I am cringing so hard at this chapter. Read on to know why!

John walked up the stairs and took a few seconds to breathe in deeply. It's all gonna pass, don't worry,... just be... strong. He has lived with this man for years now. Nothing has to change. He was – after all – still a smart mouthed sociopath – high functioning he meant. John smiled to himself – he liked his own version better.

Still with a little smirk on his face he entered the flat.

Sherlock was studying his flat mate. He was much calmer now – even smiling. No, not smiling – smirking.

"What is so funny?", Sherlock asked.

"Just. You." John said, trying not to laugh. There are so many possibilities. High functioning smart mouth. Smart-assed detective, high functioning smartie pants. The one and only consulting know-it-all. John was having way too much fun with his little game and started laughing.

Sherlock seemed very irritated. "What is it, John?"

John spluttered: "Smartlock Holmes, the high functioning smart-ass. One and only consulting cleverclogs!!!"

Sherlock stared at him utterly confused. "You are being ridiculous."

John nodded, laughing breathlessly.

"Oh my,... What...?! It is not even amusing!", Sherlock sat up.

"Have you..." gasp. "noticed.. yet..." gasp. "smarty?" Giggly gasp. "The..." gasp. "last one..." gasp. "even... is" gasp. "an allili... allet...!", the short man tried to say with some difficulty.

"Alliteration? Of course I have... but...?"

"Of course you have!!!" John was now holding his stomach, which hurt from laughing.

"Will you please stop! I really don't understand why you..."

Now John was choking. Sherlock sprang up, panic rising in his chest. "Oh for god's sake, stop laughing!" Helplessly he patted the (unbelievingly) doctor's back.

Finally John gained some self control again. Sherlock's hand was still on his back. It had wandered down to the small of his back now, actually. He grinned up into the detective's worried face. He got a little lost in those ocean eyes... but pulled himself back on the shore before he would do anything stupid.

Amicably he put his flat hand on Sherlock's chest. "Well that was quite a... laughing fit."

"Obviously.", Sherlock simply stated, still with a hint of confusion in his tone. He looked down at John's hand on his chest.

Oh. Probably not that amicable... Awkwardly John removed his hand. The men parted. Sherlock hated the cold on his hand now that he didn't touch John anymore.

To cover up any remaining awkwardness John said: "I couldn't help myself. You were making it even funnier by not understanding!", John said, chuckling.

Sherlock made a pouty face. "Emotions are difficult to understand, John. There is no logic behind them."

John stared into those beautiful eyes with those beautiful lips and those beautiful cheekbones... He licked his bottom lip... and immediately looked away and straightened up. NO, there sure as hell isn't.

"Right. Yeah. I'mma..." he pointed past Sherlock to the kitchen. Tea. He needed tea.

Still slightly sulking, Sherlock went to his armchair. John walked into the kitchen and started to boil the water. "Do you want some?", he asked his flat mate.

"Yes! Don't leave the teabag in for too long!"

John rolled his eyes. This man was definitely too demanding. Of course he made his tea exactly how he liked it though.

He brought the tea to the detective and ignored the tingling energy when their finger brushed, once again. Only just tendencies.
'Yeah what about that moment earlier? 'Ocean eyes'? Tendencies my ass.', that annoying voice said.
Ignore and you won't change shore. John told himself .
'Or go swimming in those ocean eyes!', the voice countered.
It even rhymed. Seems like a good enough life motto.
'Nah, sorry it doesn't'
Okay it actually doesn't but... that's all he got. Maybe if he kept feeling this weird sparkles inside of him, they would get annoying. It could also not happen every single time they touched, right?

The two friends were each sitting in their armchairs and sipping their teas. John was stuck in his own thoughts, when suddenly he felt Sherlock's gaze on him. He looked up.

Intense green eyes looked at him. Beautiful eyes, but with an intense stare. 'Wow, John, stop, this is getting ridiculous.' Annoyed by his mind he stared back.

Blue vs. green.
Fierce vs. calculating.
Daring vs. appraising.

Neither wanted to look away first. Neither knowing each other's thoughts, but both thinking of the other.

Finally Sherlock's phone buzzed. Sherlock and John broke off their eye contact and looked at it. It was Mycroft.

Sherlock ignored the phone, and leaned back. Started staring again.

Before John could make a cheeky remark, Sherlock started talking: "What happened earlier?"

'Oh shit. I can't tell him I realized I have a crush on him!'
"What do you mean?", John tried to play dumb.
"Earlier. At Mrs. Hudson's. You panicked. Why?"
'Damn it. I can't lie either, because he will know immediately!' John decided to tell half the truth: "Uhm..", John cleared his throat, "Well, I had a little panic attack."

Sherlock looked at him impatiently. "I know that. I literally just pointed it out. My question is: Why did you panic?"

"It was... It reminded me of being in Afghanistan... Ehm, too tight rooms, you know..."

Sherlock tilted his head – as if he considered if that was true. John was sure if the detective would point out that he was lying, he'd have another panic attack. Oh god. He wouldn't have an excuse for that at all anymore.

But then Sherlock's eyes softened. It almost seemed as if the green emerald eyes were flowed over with sweet golden honey. 'We are SOO straight', John's inner voice mocked him. Well, indeed, he needs to get his shit together. 'It's okay they are tendencies, nothing more, I would not want to...', John stopped his train of thoughts right there.

Anyways. It seemed like Sherlock has snapped the bait, and to know better than to ask further questions.

"I, uh... I'll go to bed early", John declared. He was ready for this crazy day and strange feelings to be over.
"Goodnight, Sherlock"

"Goodnight", the detective answered with a questioning face. Sherlock couldn't help but notice, that his friend acted weirdly. He was wondering if John even had told him the truth. He actually didn't think so, but wanted to let him have his freedom at the same time. So he tried to let it go; tried not to put too much hope into this little closet incident.

A/N: VOTE AND COMMENT MAH LOVELY TURTLES! <3
Okay... so was that too much cringe? Did I embarrass John with having that laughing fit? Did I write it horribly? This just came out of the blue to me and then I fixed it up a bit and then I actually left it in and I am not sure if I will...
✨constructive✨ criticism ✨ is the ✨ only way ✨ for me ✨ to ✨ improve✨, so please tell me what you hated and why you hated it 🙃
I want to tell you so many things of my life but... it's probably boring you so I won't.
Love you,
🐢