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The Science of Seduction	By : aineko Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 4041 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I own no part of BBC Sherlock and make no profit from this work

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Still hard at work, it's proving more demanding than I thought... but here's a bit to tide you over :-)

Sherlock was thinking.
He was feeling better today than yesterday, and expected to feel even better tomorrow. John expected him to as well - he'd called Stamford, and half an hour later the Human Resources department at Barts had called back, and now John had bagged three shifts starting tomorrow. He was out now as well, gone for a walk, he'd said. He did that. Personally Sherlock couldn't see the attraction of walking for walking's sake.
But it gave him privacy to think.
John was still acting strangely, still keeping a distance to him, and Sherlock didn't know why, which frustrated him more than he could find words to express. True, his own view of John had shifted subtly too over the past few days, ever since he'd become aware of his... interest. But Sherlock had every confidence in his ability to keep that little fact hidden from his flatmate.
And he still couldn't believe that that brief moment of mutual nudity might have affected John in a similar manner.
The only other possible cause for John's changed attitude that Sherlock could think of was the marmalade incident. Well, what it represented, really. Perhaps John had simply had enough of his flatmate's egocentrism. Perhaps he had reached a point where he - what? Wanted to distance himself?
Wanted to leave?
No. Impossible. Couldn't happen. Couldn't be allowed to happen. He had to prevent it from happening; it was of vital importance that he keep John in his life. Because it hadn't just been John tolerating Sherlock as a flatmate all these many months, the opposite held true as well, in a sense. Sherlock had voluntarily - if somewhat forced by circumstance - entered into the experiment of allowing a stranger to share his home with him. And by some amazing stroke of luck (not that Sherlock believed in luck, but he couldn't find a better word for it) that stranger had turned out to be a perfect fit for his life.
Somehow he had got it right.
Oh, there had been conflicts and arguments and much marking of territory, but ultimately Sherlock had got it right.
And now something had shifted between them, and Sherlock was afraid he might be losing John.
No, not afraid. He was terrified. For the first time he could recall there was a person in his life he couldn't bear to lose. Couldn't afford to lose, if he was to go on. Moriarty had seen that, damn him, he'd seen it so long before Sherlock himself had, and had used the fact not once but twice, attacking Sherlock through John. Exposing the detective's weakness for even him to see.
Oh no, this caring was definitely not an advantage.
But he did care, now. Had become aware of it, one should probably say, because looking back he could see the symptoms in many of his prior interactions with John. Explaining to the doctor that he was most definitely not a hero, hoping John wouldn't expect too much of him and end up disappointed and hurt. Agreeing, against his better judgement, to a Christmas get-together, at which he'd even ended up apologizing to Molly Hooper for embarrassing her, not particularly because he felt sorry (much), but because he'd already annoyed John too much that night. Trying to get John to shut up when Lestrade alluded to his little problem with recreationals and John immediately leapt to his defence, because already he was afraid of the doctor's reaction if he were to learn the truth.
The hollowness inside him whenever John was in danger. The homicidal rage he felt towards Moriarty for daring to attack his doctor, his flatmate, his friend. His heart. The one he'd never had before.
Oh, he cared all right.
Not, probably, to the extent John was capable of, possibly not even in a way John would recognize - but he cared.
And he needed to show it, he needed to find a way of showing it, the alternative was simply... unacceptable.

He'd gone for a walk around Regent's Park, past the boating lake and almost all the way up Primrose Hill. It was good to be out in the fresh air after being cooped up in the flat for so long. With Sherlock.
The detective was well enough to be left on his own now - insofar as that man should ever be left without supervision, John mentally added with a wry smile. John himself would be going back to work tomorrow. And hopefully everything would be back to normal before long.
He still couldn't work out how things had gotten so out of kilter. He'd woken up on that morning four days ago expecting just another day of life with Sherlock, and ended up that night getting himself off to thoughts of his flatmate naked. And every night since.
Well, getting back to work ought to help. Twelve-hour shifts in A&E three days in a row - he'd be lucky not to drop dead, he certainly shouldn't have the energy to do much more than drag himself to bed and fall asleep. Three days of little or no time in Sherlock's presence.
That thought was a little depressing, actually.
After all it wasn't the detective's friendship or company he wanted to avoid; coming home to Sherlock at the end of a workday was in fact something John looked forward to, on the whole. Those same qualities that made Sherlock so infuriating sometimes also made him so refreshingly unpredictable. He wouldn't expect John to tell him about his day, he wouldn't bore him with mind-numbing gossip about football, and footballers, and Big Brother inmates, and various other D-list celebrities like most of the doctors and nurses he worked with - female or not. On the contrary, if John wanted to know what Sherlock was thinking or doing he'd usually have to work most of it out for himself. He wasn't bad at it, either; despite frequent suggestions to the contrary John knew the detective had faith in his intelligence and ability to think for himself. Being Sherlock's flatmate was hard work sometimes, but John wouldn't really have it any other way.
But it had all gotten so complicated now. John felt almost afraid to be in the same room as Sherlock for any length of time, in part because he wasn't sure he could avoid getting aroused - it seemed to take next to nothing to set him off, he was rapidly becoming an expert at thinking of swimming in icy lakes while watching golf matches and similarly detumescent combinations - but also because he worried that his flatmate would work out what was going on with him. He was fairly certain Sherlock had observed enough already to realize something was up, he could only hope the detective wouldn't figure out what before John found a way of putting a stop to it and turning the clock back to when Sherlock had been no more than a flatmate and a friend.
He really didn't want to think about the alternative.
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The Science of Seduction