The Kissing Analysis

17

Anyone at Comicon?

I wish i was, but my mom said maybe next year if we doNT GO TO DISNEY WORLD.

SHE'S MAKING ME CHOOSE PEOPLE OH MY GOD.

John froze, whipping around, eyes frantically searching the crowd.

"Sherlock?" He breathed, eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.

"John!"

The blogger jumped again, knowing that he was most definitely not imagining the detective's voice.

"Sherlock!" He yelled, moving through the crowd. He began to search for the long legged detective wearing his black coat and blue scarf.

Where is he?!

-

As Sherlock heard John's reply, his heart skipped a beat, and his mind began to race, glancing down at his phone and following the GPS, glancing up every second to make sure he didn't bump into anyone.

Not that he cared.

Just as he turned around, looking about, he collided with someone behind him.

He turned around to quickly apologize, when he saw a dirty and tired John Watson groaning.

"John!"

The blogger looked up at the detective, all pain in his body pausing for a moment as he saw his flatmate lean down and reach out his hands

"John, you're hurt," he said, as he helped the shorter man up. When John was finally to his feet, he collapsed into Sherlock, the taller man taking his weight.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm... I'm fine," the blogger said, breathing in Sherlock's scent as he had rested his head on Sherlock's chest, closing his eyes for a bit.

Holmes flushed and pulled away, holding Watson's shoulders to steady him, which in turn made John yelp a little.

Sherlock cringed a bit, pulling his hand away from John's scarred shoulder, making the man lean into him a bit.

"We should move out of the way." Sherlock said quickly, noticing the people around them were starting to get annoyed.

They walked into a nearby coffee shop, and sat down at a table.

-

"I woke up this morning for the second time next to a dumpster in some alley. I remember falling out the window and running, but that was really it." John said as he began eating the breakfast set before him, shoveling his food as much as possible. His sprained wrist-which Sherlock had wrapped after asking for gauze at the counter- lay on the table next to his plate.

Sherlock stared at the hand, and glared.

"What did they look like? Do you remember?" He asked. John shook his head, to which Sherlock sighed.

They sat in peaceful silence, the detective watching John eat, and also occasionally looking out the window every so often to study the busy street.

Suddenly, Sherlock remembered Lestrade and Mary, and he pulled out his phone to text Greg about finding John.

As he put his phone away, he looked up to see that John had finished his plate, and was looking at him.

He swallowed, and glanced at John's wrapped hand again.

"Are you sure we don't need to take you to a do-" "I'm fine Sherlock. Its only a sprain; also, I think I can take care of myself." He reassured.

Sherlock nodded, looking down at his own hands.