The Kissing Analysis

14

Tbh i dont even know how long i can draw this out, before i start getting frustrated with them.

JUST FUCK ALREADY.

Sherlock awoke that morning, and pulled out his computer.

He loaded it up, and pulled up the documents, before typing the notes he had gotten yesterday.

After he finished, he scrolled through the notes, and swallowed.

They'd only been doing this for a week or so, and he was almost done.

He was almost done.

He felt a bit of panic rise in his throat.

What happens when we finish? No more kisses. No more John, and tasting him.

The detective felt himself become weary of the current situation.

What would they do once this is all over?

His heart pattered with worry, until it skipped a beat when there was a knock on the door.

"Sherlock! Can you come out here please?"

He groaned, glancing at the clock. It was about noon, and John hadn't bothered him all morning. What did he want?

He saved and shut his laptop, jumping from the bed and to his bedroom door.

"John?" He asked, walking out into the hallway that led to his kitchen.

"In the living room!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, and ruffled his curls a bit, before stepping around the corner of the kitchen, and to the living room.

"Mate! I would like you to meet..."

Everything after that was dispensable.

He stared at the blonde woman, who sat curled up next to John, smiling up at Sherlock.

Smiling.

He felt a vibe of mocks practically radiating from her smile.

"...-Anyways, we have a date, so we can't-um, I can't be here today."

Everything by-passed Sherlock's ear as he deduced the woman.

He glared a bit at her, before shifting his eyes to John.

"Ah yes..." He cleared his throat.

"Dates-petty little things. But go on, I don't care. Again, your sex life not mine."

John stared at him, and Mary glanced between the two.

"Again?"

"No, Mary that's not what he-hey Sherlock,"

John sat up as he watched Sherlock saunter off around the corner and to his room.

"Go ahead and go down stairs Mary!" He said passed his shoulder. Mary raised an eyebrow.

"Sherlock, hey."

Sherlock rolled his eyes as he turned to John, exasperated.

"What?"

John sighed, giving him a stern look.

"You will not ruin this for me. You wont!"

"Sorry, didn't know it was my fault your dates don't go well." Holmes spoke back, a bite in his voice.

"Haha, actually, practically all of them were."

The detective crossed his arms and rolled his eyes before Watson glared at him.

"Shut up and tolerate her. She's my girlfriend, and I actually like her, okay?"

"She'll be gone in less than 3 weeks. And that would be a record for you."

"Yeah, well at least I try."

Sherlock winced a little, before shushing John.

"Whatever. Not like you've ever been in love."

The doctor shook his head, and turned around to head downstairs.

Sherlock stood there, eyes wide, mouth slightly open.

John's words rung in his ears.

He leaned against the fridge, sunk down to the floor, and began to think.

-

John didn't come home that night.

Sherlock laid on the couch, listening to the ringing silence. It reminded him of John's disgusting absence, sending the detective into a spiral of sighs.

He had been grumpy all day, but now his face was tired of being angry. His expression finally relaxed into a bitter sadness.

He looked at his feet and began to focus on the pain etching its way slowly through his chest.

John thought he was incapable of love.

Then what am I starting to feel?

Sherlock's throat clenched, and he had to try extra hard to swallow.

Ever since he had started this whole thing, he didn't know what to think of him and John.

Sure, he was his friend. His best friend. And Sherlock was sure John thought the same. Felt the same.

But what had happened to them?

Sherlock, now thinking about it, had realized he had been living off of John. Craving his very existence, and radiating in his presence.

John made him better. Which is good.

John was also happy.

...

Mary.

Sherlock's mind flickered back to Mary, and he shut his eyes, his heart beginning to pound.

No, no. She isn't anything more than just a woman John met at work. She'll be gone soon.

He still felt the worrying feeling that this was going to ruin something. She was going to ruin something.

'Not like you've ever been in love,'

Love.

That's what John had said... but... did that mean... something more?

Did John love Mary?

Sherlock felt as if he could puke.

John is in love with Mary.

...

Not me.

...

He began to become frustrated with himself. And his feelings.

His fists clenched as he tried to remain calm, trying to shut out the sudden thoughts swarming in his head, attacking him.

shut up, shutup, SHUT UP!

Sherlock panted as he quickly sat up, eyes flicking open widely. He reached up, clutching his head and tugging his curls as blood pounded harshly against his skull.

He sat there for several minutes, legs crossed, knees raised high on either sides of his chest, his torso curled in on itself as he clutched his head. 

He was trying to shut everything out.

After a while, when the thoughts began to disperse, and Sherlock locked them out, and away, he opened his eyes, and began to relax, slowly lifting his head.

He looked up at the time.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

4 am.