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Enchanted	By : Flavy Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 1622 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock BBC, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Important Note: So, if anyone hasn’t yet watched the Sherlock x John music video called Enchanted (Owl City) by Deductism on YouTube, GO WATCH IT RIGHT NOW! It takes my breath away how perfect they are for each other, and how perfect this song is for them! (And yes, you guessed it, this fic was inspired by this amazing song.)
Another (not so important) Note: I’m not sure what happened in the actual series after John broke up with Sarah, but in my fic, he continues working at her office and has a friendship with her. Cause I really like Sarah! (Just not as John’s girlfriend).
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Chapter 2
When John finally ventured downstairs, hoping to further refresh himself with a hot cup of Earl Grey, Sherlock was already standing by the window with a somber expression on his pale face, his alert gaze sweeping over the street’s bustling activity in the same manner a hungry vulture stalked its potential prey. He had been wallowing in his own bored misery for weeks while awaiting the appearance of a worthy case, which meant that John was already at his wit’s end with trying to keep the both of them sane. Having that dream certainly didn’t help his sanity in the least.
John allowed himself a small smile as he watched Sherlock’s tall, graceful figure lean slightly against the window frame, as still as a preying cat. Despite the fact that John didn’t classify himself as gay, he could admit that Sherlock could be downright adorable at times, which made it very difficult for John to stay mad at him for any prolonged amount of time. Even when Sherlock indulged in acting like a true sociopath or engaged in his self-assigned role of a possessive-compulsive flatmate that scared off both existing and potential girlfriends on John’s side, John still couldn’t find it in himself to stay mad at him for too long.
In fact, it had been not so very long ago that John’s latest ex-girlfriend had vanished without a trace after getting a ‘once-over’ from Sherlock when the latter had decided to accompany them on one of their dates. Needless to say, John had been righteously angry; for an hour or so. Once he got it out of his system, he had returned to the flat and spent the rest of the evening laughing over crap telly with Sherlock, all else forgotten.
Because, truth be told, John didn’t particularly miss any of his ex-girlfriends. Mostly, he just missed the sex. And that, of course, was the entire problem.
“Just look at them, John,” Sherlock spoke suddenly in a disgruntled tone, bringing John’s attention back to the present. “So dull, so ordinary. Constantly preoccupied with such meaningless activities of no consequence whatsoever to anything of importance. How dull their lives must be.”
“Good morning to you, too, Sherlock.”
Proceeding to enter the kitchen with his leather jacket hanging readily over his arm, John rushed to fix himself some tea, eager to get out of there as soon as he possibly could without raising suspicion from his ever-observant friend.
“Plans for today?” he asked casually, for once grateful that Sherlock didn’t have any good cases. He wasn’t so sure that he could leave knowing that his friend was engaging in dangerous activities all by himself.
“No.”
John glanced in his direction. “You’re not thinking of sitting at that window all day again, are you?”
“Yes.”
John furrowed his eyebrows slightly in concern. “Sherlock, you haven’t stepped outside for like, what… an entire week now? You know that’s unhealthy, right?”
“You have previously informed me of the fact, yes.”
“So… let’s think of someplace you could go. I’ve got a few minutes.”
“I’ll be fine here.”
John pursed his lips. Sherlock was already being difficult, and it wasn’t even 8 am yet. He wondered if Sherlock had slept at all, seeing how his position at the window had changed very little since last night when John bid him goodnight.
As though sensing the direction of his thoughts, Sherlock spoke again. “I’m not a child, John. I can take care of myself.” He tilted his head suddenly as voices were heard downstairs, his eyes instantly on full alert until, a moment later, Mrs. Hudson called up, “Just a package, Sherlock!”, prompting him to return to his previous activity with a slight drop at the corners of his mouth.
John felt an urge to roll his eyes. “What about the Art Gallery?” he suggested, wishing he didn’t have to feel so guilty for wanting to ditch Sherlock for the next week or two. “You haven’t been there in a while. Maybe you’ll find it more entertaining now that you know a little bit about art and the solar system.”
“There’s nothing entertaining about the solar system, John. Not unless it’s on a 300-year-old fake painting that is intricately connected with a potential murder case held at the mercy of a psychopathic lunatic.”
Okay, so maybe bringing that one up hadn’t been the smartest thing to do. “How about River Thames? You could try raiding it for dead bodies or something. Might be fun for you.”
“Been there, done that.”
Somehow, John wasn’t surprised in the least. “St. Bart’s? You’d make Molly’s day.”
“Not interested.”
John laboured a heavy sigh. If he couldn’t get Sherlock to get out of the house, he’d worry the whole damn week about him. And the whole bloody point of leaving was not to think about Sherlock.
At his exhale, Sherlock turned toward him with an upturned eyebrow, which made John avert his eyes quickly. He could sense his friend’s questioning stare boring into him, and in that instant, John knew he had been caught. He cleared his throat and stared at his tea intently as though there was something very interesting floating about in it.
“Do you have a problem with my staying here, John?”
John licked his dry lips, thinking quickly. “You mean apart from the fact that you send me a hundred text messages throughout the day and go on a wall-shooting spree when I’m not able to answer them because I happen to be working? Not at all.”
“Working? John, we haven’t had any work in weeks. Whatever it is that you do at that office is—”
“—my chosen profession, Sherlock,” John interrupted, knowing where this was going. “And guess what? It saves lives, every day. It may not be as exhilarating as investigating a fresh, new murder case, but the final result is fairly similar and equally rewarding.”
A short silence followed before Sherlock spoke. “You’re offended. You shouldn’t be. I was merely trying to point out that your profession requires a minimal amount of deductive skills in the context of an office, and is therefore a waste of your time. It is not suitable to your mental capacities that, while needing a substantial amount of work, are making good progress thus far.”
John shook his head in resignation. He didn’t really feel offended at all, just moderately annoyed. After spending as much time with Sherlock as he had, he had learned to become fairly tolerant of his social inadequacies, partially because he knew Sherlock had no clue as to the effect of his words on other people.
“Always a joy to have your input on things, Sherlock,” he said, setting his tea down. “I think I’ll be off now.”
As John shrugged on his jacket, ignoring the fact that Sherlock continued staring at him in a very unsettling manner, Mrs. Hudson rushed into the kitchen with a silver tray filled with cheese biscuits that smelled positively appetizing. Unfortunately, John wasn’t planning on staying any longer.
“Leaving already, John?” the landlady asked, looking put out. “What about the biscuits?”
John shook his head. “Sorry, Mrs. Hudson, I got to run. I promised Sarah I’d be in early today for once. I’d like to keep my word this time.”
“But it’s only eight o’clock and the office doesn’t open till nine. You might as well have a couple while they’re warm and fresh,” the older lady insisted with a reproachful expression.
“I’m not as hungry as I thought, Mrs. H. I’ll take some for my lunch, though,” he offered, packing a few biscuits into a Ziploc bag before stuffing it into his inside pocket. “Thanks.”
Mrs. Hudson waved him off before turning to Sherlock. “How about you, dear?”
“I’ll have some later, thank you,” Sherlock answered with a quick, polite smile before his eyes turned back to John.
Mrs. Hudson set the tray down and threw her hands up in the air. “You boys are too much for me. I’m going downstairs, I’ve got more in the oven.”
As she departed, John shifted his weight from one foot to another, suddenly feeling oddly awkward to be left alone with Sherlock, especially when the other couldn’t seem to stop staring at him.
“What?” he asked brusquely, avoiding looking in Sherlock’s general direction.
“Something’s different about you today,” Sherlock stated unexpectedly, his calculating eyes roaming over John’s figure methodically.
John felt himself grow tense under his scrutiny. “No clue what you’re talking about, but I really do need to be off now.”
Sherlock clasped his hands behind his back and approached him with marked deliberation. Here it comes, John thought to himself before Sherlock went into a quick rant, hardly taking a breath between sentences.
“When you came down, you were clearly rushing to go – your shoes were on, your jacket over your arm, your movements rushed, yet you hate your office job. You always promise Sandra to be early, but you’re a heavy sleeper and don’t set your alarm, meaning something else must have woken you up. Your tea is untouched, you’re refusing food from Mrs. Hudson, and you’re taking lunch with you even though you always return to the flat during your lunch hour to ensure I’m not resorting to my old habits of managing boredom. You’re trying to get me out of the house, but it’s not just because you’re worried about Mrs. Hudson’s walls, it’s something more than that. And…” Sherlock paused as he came to a stop at his side, his tone turning somewhat mystified. “… you won’t look at me.”
John stilled, his eyes trained on a far point on the floor. As usual, Sherlock’s observations were flawless. Which, for once, was not a good thing.
“Why won’t you look at me, John?” Sherlock asked softly, and John could tell that he was really close to him.
John swallowed thickly, the hand holding his mug frozen mid-air. He had to do it. He had to prove Sherlock wrong, even though he knew he had already lost that battle.
Keeping his face as void of expression as possible, John turned his head in his flatmate’s direction and locked gazes with him for the first time that morning. He felt his heartbeat quicken as he looked into the familiar expressive blue eyes that searched his face with concerned interest.
“I’m fine, Sherlock,” he stated in a steady tone, congratulating himself on sounding perfectly convincing. Or so he thought.
“No, you’re not. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong.”
“Don’t lie to me, John, it doesn’t work. You of all people should know that.”
John licked his lips, feeling at a loss. The brief movement drew Sherlock’s attention to his lips for a short moment, which sent an odd shiver down John’s spine.
“I’m just…” John faltered, finding himself unable to break their eye contact. It was distracting and oddly entrancing, and made it difficult to think.
The first tendrils of cold dread crept up John’s arms as they simply stood there, facing each other. They were standing too close. He could feel Sherlock’s body heat radiate against his arm. It reminded him too much of his dream. Except in his dream, Sherlock’s body had been right up against him and he wasn’t just looking at him, he was…
Before he knew what he was doing, John let his eyes drop to Sherlock’s pale lips, causing his apprehension to increase exponentially. He averted his eyes quickly, feeling his face growing warm.
“I really need to go,” he mumbled as he pushed past Sherlock and rushed toward the stairwell.
“John, wait.”
John paused at the doorway for a moment, keeping his back to Sherlock. “Let’s talk later,” he said resolutely before he shot down the stairs, not waiting for a response.
Breaking into a jog down the busy street, John felt an altogether new sensation rising up in his chest. For the first time since he had met Sherlock, John felt… scared. And he did not like it one bit.
It wasn’t long before the phone in his pocket hummed, signalling a received text message. Flipping it open, John stared at the typed words for a few long moments before turning it off altogether.
I do love a challenge, John.
-SH
This was going to be far more difficult than he had imagined.
####
By the time John reached the office, he was out of breath. He had jogged the entire way against a cold, biting wind, and now his lungs felt as though they were on fire.
“Alright, John?” Sarah greeted him from the reception desk area with a surprised but warm smile, a clipboard hugged to her chest. “I can’t believe you actually came in early. I thought you were joking.”
John grinned at her as he hung up his jacket and made his way over, taking his appointment schedule from her extended hand. “Thanks. Yeah, I had a bit of a rough night, so I got up earlier than usual.”
Sarah regarded him curiously. “New case?”
John scanned the sheet briefly. He had a full day. Perfect. “Unfortunately, not. Bad dream.” And that was the understatement of the century.
“I suppose one would get bad dreams when living and working with Sherlock Holmes,” Sarah mused, leaning back against the front counter.
“You have no idea,” John muttered, mostly to himself. “Anyone here yet?”
“Nope, you’re the first to arrive. It’s pretty amazing, actually.”
“Don’t get used to it,” John replied with a smart grin. “In fact, I’ve got something to ask of you that I’m pretty sure you’re not going to like.”
“As long as it doesn’t involve having dart practice while being tied to a chair, I think I’ll handle it.”
John shared a small laugh with her. The adventure (or rather misadventure) of their first date had become a bit of an inside joke between them since they broke it off. Now that they shared a sort of professional friendship, John was perfectly comfortable bringing it up for a laugh every now and again.
“I need time off,” he said, turning serious. “Like a week or so. Think I can get it?”
“Depends. When were you thinking?”
John cleared his throat. “Ideally, starting tomorrow.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“I know, I know, short notice. I am truly sorry.”
“John, that’s not short notice, that’s no notice at all. Who’s going to take over your patients? I can’t handle all of your appointments on top of my own.”
“How about Arthur? He’s just casual at the hospital now, right? He might have time. I’ll even give him a call for you.”
Sarah seemed to consider this. “He’s okay, I guess. I haven’t worked with him in forever, but he might do. Just… what’s the rush, John?”
John hesitated, at a loss of how to respond. He didn’t want to lie to Sarah. “I need time away from Sherlock,” he said finally, settling on giving her a smaller version of the truth.
Sarah searched his face for a moment. “Does this have anything to do with this bad dream you had last night?”
John shrugged slightly, pretending to look over his appointment sheet again. Sometimes, Sarah could be far too perceptive for his liking. “I just really need a vacation. I’ve got some old friends from the service in Paris, I might go and visit them.”
“Anything you want to talk about?” Sarah offered with an openness that John had always admired about her. She was probably the only person in the world he could see himself confiding to with this particular… problem. He just didn’t want to talk about it at all.
John shook his head. “No. But thank you for the offer. So, is it a go then?”
“Alright, but you owe me big time. You know I don’t like working with Arthur, his ideas on patient care are about two centuries too old for me. Seriously, that man needs to retire or something.”
John cracked a grin. “How old is he, anyway?”
“If I were to guess, I’d say at least eighty, although he’s probably closer to sixty. Damn old fart.”
“He’ll be out soon enough.”
“Not soon enough for me. And now you’re getting me stuck with him for an entire week.”
John gave her an apologetic look. “He may still refuse, you know. It is a rather abrupt request, after all. Although I’m not sure what I’ll do if he can’t cover it.”
“Is it really that essential that you leave tomorrow?”
John licked his lips, a brief memory of his close encounter with Sherlock that morning flashing through his mind. “Absolutely.”
Sarah hummed. “Then I’ll just have to figure something out. I think you’re right, a few days away from Sherlock will probably do you good. From what I’ve experienced in the short time I’ve known Sherlock Holmes, I would say your lifestyle with him is at best a significant health risk and, at worst, a death sentence. You deserve a break.”
John smiled bitterly at her evaluation, finding it disturbingly accurate. "I really appreciate it, Sarah."
"No problem. And if you ever need to talk, you know where to find me."
Just then, the front door rang open as Andrea walked in, stopping at the hallway mirror to comb her fingers through her hair with a disgruntled expression on her rounded face. "My God, this wind is killing me. An hour's work on my hair this morning, all gone to waste. I need to invest in some industrial-strength hairspray or something."
John snorted in amusement, which prompted Andrea to notice his presence. Upon seeing him, she pulled a stunned expression before checking her wrist watch against the clock on the wall. "Is this thing right? Did I miss Daylight Savings Time or something?"
John rolled his eyes as Sarah snickered. "Don't praise him yet. He came in early to ask for vacation time, the git."
"Oh? Well that sounds exciting, I could use a little bit of that myself. I haven't taken an actual vacation in ages. Where are you planning on going, Dr. Watson?" Andrea asked as she hung up her coat and took her place behind the reception desk.
"Paris," John replied, deliberately short. He really did not want to talk about this. "Where would you like to go, Andrea?" he asked, hoping to redirect the conversation.
“I wouldn’t mind visiting Paris,” she said, organizing her desk for the day. “Although I wouldn’t want to go there alone, I’d need to find myself a boyfriend first. I trust you’re taking your girlfriend with you, Dr. Watson?”
“No,” John said shortly, growing slightly tense at the line of questioning. He could feel Sarah’s eyes on him. “Don’t have a girlfriend at the moment.”
“Well, I’m always available,” Andrea joked with a wink, making John colour slightly. Grinning, she reached for the phone and started taking messages, moving her chubby fingers over the keypad with practiced precision.
Sarah grinned at him, shrugging her shoulders. “Who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone there. The city of love, isn’t that what they say? Sounds like a perfect place to meet someone new and enchanting.”
John gave a quiet laugh. “Enchanting? That’s a new word for me.”
“Seriously, John? You’ve never met someone enchanting before?”
John thought about it for a moment. His ex-girlfriends had been… interesting. Certainly arousing. But enchanting? “Can’t say I have.”
Sarah feigned a pout. “Thanks for being honest.”
John caught himself. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean—”
Sarah waved him off with a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry, I’m just teasing you. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt that way myself, really. I suppose that’s something reserved for your one true love.”
“Or for someone who sends you the most gorgeous, beautiful, breathtaking red roses,” Andrea cut in, staring toward the entrance door in awe. “Hello, those are for me, right?” she said to the delivery boy who walked in holding a crystal vase filled with abundantly blooming, bright red roses adorned with thin branches of Gypsophila.
The boy, who looked no older than sixteen, flushed crimson and lowered his head. “They are for Dr. Sawyer.”
“Aw, bullocks. Well, get them over here. Right up on the counter.”
As the vase was deposited on the counter, a sweet fragrance filled the air, bringing a small smile to John’s lips as he watched Sarah read the accompanying card with a light blush on her cheeks.
“They’re from Peter,” she said quietly, leaning in to inhale the fragrance deeply. “I met him at the reading club last week.”
“You lucky girl,” Andrea said as she admired the roses appreciatively. “I’m so jealous! He’s clearly smitten with you.”
Sarah grinned happily. “He’s a really sweet guy, too. He’s taking me to Stratford-upon-Avon this weekend. I’ve always wanted to visit that place, ever since I fell in love with Shakespeare’s writings in my high school Literature class.” She laughed suddenly as she added, “The teacher was a witch, though, she used to mark us on memorizing entire sonnets. Everyone hated her for that. We called her Lady Macbeth.”
Andrea shared in her laugh. “Sounds like my aunt Becky. I think you’ll enjoy yourself, Sarah, it’s absolutely gorgeous there this time of year.”
Sarah nodded. “So I’ve heard. I suppose it should be a fairly romantic place, too.”
“I’m sure!” Andrea exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. “Wouldn’t it be fantastic if he were to recite a sonnet or two while you were out walking in the park, under the moonlight?”
“Bloody hell, I’d probably marry him right then and there.”
As the two women erupted into giggles, John smiled crookedly, beginning to feel somewhat guilty. Here was a bloke who could really appreciate Sarah for what she was: beautiful, smart, funny, kind. The list went on. It made John feel like a complete prat at the memory of his own brief ‘dating’ experience with her. Back then, John had just returned from his service in a… deprived state. Needless to say, there was only one thing and one thing only on his mind at that time, and, as such, he hadn’t done Sarah justice one bit. And that was on top of Sherlock’s disturbing involvement in the whole affair.
As his thoughts drifted toward Sherlock, John glanced at the clock on the wall, wondering what his flatmate was doing just about now. It was five minutes to nine, which meant it had been almost an entire hour without a single text message from John. By now, Sherlock would have guessed that John had turned off his phone, and was probably sulking about it all over the place. John only hoped that Mrs. Hudson was keeping him some company, seeing how Sherlock had been right – John wasn’t planning on returning to the flat during his lunch hour that day.
Slipping his hand into his pocket, John curled his fingers around his phone, almost tempted to check in on him despite his earlier resolution not to do so. After all, if John wasn’t able to stop worrying about Sherlock for a single day, then how was he going to spend an entire week not thinking about him?
He didn’t get a chance to explore an answer to that question before the front door opened with a tinkle, signalling the arrival of a short, large woman with far too much make-up on her chubby face.
“Good morning, Dr. Watson,” she greeted, folding a drenched umbrella before shaking it off thoroughly. Apparently, it had started raining. She removed her extra-large coat and hung it over a chair in the waiting room. “Lovely weather we’re having.”
“Morning, Mrs. Williams,” John replied with a polite smile before admitting her into his examination room. “You’re here for your blood test results, is that correct?”
“That’s perfectly right, doctor.”
As John immersed himself into his work, he found it got easier not to think about Sherlock and the peculiar dream he had that morning. By the end of the day, his mood had lifted significantly at the prospect of flying off to Paris to visit his old mates that relocated there following their return from the war. It was going to be great to see them again and share some good laughs over some good old fashioned beer together.
As for Sherlock, he would just have to manage himself on his own for a week. After all, he was an adult and could very well take care of himself. Besides, Sherlock had Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson to watch out for him, and even Lestrade, who had been known to visit their flat from time to time with inquiries as to how they were passing their time.
After bidding goodbye to his last patient for the day, John stretched out his arms and folded them behind his head, leaning back into his chair to full extent. As the tension in his shoulders dissipated slowly at the relaxed posture, John exhaled deeply in satisfaction and closed his eyes, enjoying a few much-needed minutes of quiet.
The day had been busy and exhausting, and John felt just about ready to collapse onto his bed. However, there were still places to go and people to call before he returned to the flat that evening, and then… well, then he’d have to face the impossible task of introducing the idea of his little ‘vacation’ to Sherlock.
Massaging his neck with one hand, John flipped through his Rolodex before picking up the phone and making his call to Arthur, which had turned out successful to his great relief. One piece of the puzzle in place.
Exiting toward the reception area, John handed all of his completed charts to Andrea for filing before glancing questioningly at Sarah’s examination room door, which remained closed.
“She’s got a tough one in there,” Andrea explained in response to the silent question. “Might be awhile.”
John nodded. “Just let her know that Dr. Arthur Harris will be coming in tomorrow to cover for me,” he said as he slipped on his jacket, zipping it all the way up. It looked rather cold and wet outside, although the rain had thankfully stopped. “And also, he’d like you to fax him my schedule for the week, if you would be so kind.”
Andrea smiled at him. “Certainly, Dr. Watson. And I hope you enjoy your time in Paris.”
“Thank you,” he replied with a curt nod. “I intend to.”
Once outside, John inhaled the fresh scent of rain deeply in pure appreciation. If there was anything at all good about rain, it was the smell of it. John positively adored it.
A slow breeze ruffled his short hair as he retrieved his cellphone, gently brushing his thumb over the smooth surface. He stared at it for a few long moments with a conflicted look on his face before letting it slip back into his pocket. Beckoning to a nearby taxi, John slipped into the back passenger seat and requested to be taken to the nearest travel agency.
####
To be continued…
1) Website: YouTube

2) Keywords: Sherlock John Enchanted

3) Author: Deductism

4) Action: PLAY!!
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Enchanted