Correspondence.

To:
Subject: Please read.
From: [Only admins are allowed to see this link]

March 9, 2012 11:45:01 PM

Hello,

First off, I hope you’re doing well and I am not interrupting you at work right now. I know how horribly busy you are these days and I apologize for not being able to see you as much as I should.

Second, I know you’re already asking yourself why I have sent you an e-mail instead of just calling. Or even just speaking to you. But I couldn’t find the courage.

Lately I have been feeling different whenever you’re around. I tried to deny it at first, but I can’t do that no more. I feel my heart racing when you’re near. My breathing becoming faster whenever we accidently touch. My whole stomach filling with butterflies when I see your smile after a long day. I like you. I like you a lot. Heck, who am I kidding? I am completely in love with you. Everything you do. The way you move, speak… Even the way you walk appeals me.

I know you are very busy and hardly have time for something so silly as love (your words, yes I remember.), but I had to confess this. I need you to know my feelings for you are sincere. I need you to know how I feel whenever I look at you. I really hope things can elaborate from this point on.

I’ll see you soon, hopefully.

Take care and be careful.

John. “

>> Message saved as draft.

To:
Subject: Please read.
From: [Only admins are allowed to see this link]

May 24, 2012 09:36:25PM

“Today was one of those days again. I could hardly keep my eyes away from you. After we went to that restaurant, I was ready to kiss you at the front door. So cliché, but so true. You make me want to do things I have never wanted with anyone before. I feel like a teenager again, head over heels. I found myself staring at you when you weren’t looking, I found myself wondering what it would be like to taste those beautifully shaped lips of yours. If even just for a second. I long for you and I can’t even help but falling even more in love with you when you whisper my name ever so softly.”

>> Message saved as draft


To:
Subject: Please read.
From: [Only admins are allowed to see this link]

July 20, 2012 10:56:04AM

“I can’t believe my own feelings some times. How can I fall in love with someone so ignorant as you? But at the same time, it makes you who you are and I wouldn’t want it any other way. I know we had a fight today and it made me question my feelings for you, but when I saw the spark of concern in your eyes when I mentioned not coming back again, it made feel guilty. I can’t leave you, you bring out the better part of me. A part I thought I had lost ages ago.”

>> Message saved as draft.

Sherlock closed the lid of John's laptop a bit too violently, the sound of it felt too loud in the empty apartment and he grimaced.
It never happened to him before, but he had forgotten what he had been doing.

It was probably something silly, something he wanted to check on wikipedia (which he would never admit of using in front of John, and which he never used before John pointed out all those silly knowledge he seemed to lack), but his eyes had been caught by the amount of draft mails in John's inbox.
It had increased.
There seemed to be quite a few e-mails John had never sent, while the label had been empty six months before.

He opened it with a frown and read the e-mails one by one, his heart somehow lodged in his throat and a familiar sense of nausea quickly filling his stomach.

John was in love with someone.
Someone he was clearly trying to confess his feelings to.

It was preposterous.
How John could find time for love when he was busy almost 24/7 solving cases and catering to Sherlock's needs, he really had no idea.

Was John not happy like this?
With their cozy apartment and their adventurous life?

Why was he still looking for something else?

He leaned back on his chair, stretching his back and trying uselessly to relax.

This train of thought was always dangerous.
It always just brought insecurities, it always made Sherlock feel utterly inadequate and lonely.
He did not like that.
It wasn't rational.

"He wouldn't leave me..." he muttered to himself, but his good memory was working against him now, replaying the words he had seen written on those mails.

John felt different about this girl.
It was already four months.
He talked about love.

He stood up suddenly, pacing the room, angry at himself for being so bloody jealous.
John was his friend. His only friend.
And maybe he was also good looking.
And those hands, those wonderfully skilled hands, Sherlock just wanted to feel them touch-

He shook his head quickly, John was his friend.
Jealousy was not tolerated in this kind of relationship, or at least not the kind of jealousy that made him want to tie John to the chair and never let him out to see anyone else.

Where was John now anyway?
Was he with her?

"I'm going to kill her," he told himself, his thoughts going crazy for a moment as he tried to think who it was, and he realized he couldn't.

At about 6 in the evening John finally opened up the door to his flat in Baker Street. It had been a long day, he worked 9-5 and stopped at Tesco on the way home. They didn't need much, but once again they ran out of milk and John, unlike Sherlock, did needed to eat something for dinner.

On his way up he already started talking to Sherlock, assuming he would be busy in the kitchen or sprawled out on the sofa. "Sherlock, stopped at Tesco's after work. Bought milk and we'll have some rice and chicken for dinner tonight, Alright?"

By now he had reached the door leading into the living room. He smiled welcoming at Sherlock who seemed to be pacing the living room. He stopped and stared at him for only a few seconds. "New case?" He asked, already getting himself excited as he took off his coat and hung it just behind the door.

John's voice was like a bucket of cold water on his hot head, he swirled in his place and faced the door, watching as he heard the step coming closer.
"You took your time," he exclaimed without thinking, feeling himself growing annoyed at everything.

The rest of the words made him snort.
"Yes, I guess you can call it a new case," he commented, pointing at him accusingly, as his eyes moved burning on the other's body, looking for clues.
Damn, he needed to know who it was, if John had been with her, but nothing in his friend's clothes and expression seemed to give it away.

"I am trying to figure out when you've become good enough to hide things from me..." he snarled, his eyes still piercing on the other's frame.

"Well yes, you know what I'm like what those shipping machines. It only took me 3 times though, new personal record." John joked even though he did felt proud. With the same smug smile on his face he turned around to face Sherlock. However he found him pointing at him.

The fact his flatmate didn't really called it a case confused John a little. With Sherlock there was no in between. He either took it or left it. No I will consider it, no I will look into it and contact you. Nope, just Yes I'll take it or waste of precious time, laters.

He pulled his eyebrows up, slowly realising what this was about. "Oh, no." John shook his head. "Sherlock I am not telling you where you can find cigarettes. You're doing perfectly fine, don't give up now." He spoke encouraging words, turned around and picked up the groceries, ready to start making dinner. He was starving.

"God, you're so dim," he exclaimed, rolling his eyes, pacing the room again, but this time he was staring at John. Again going through all the things he could read on him, what he had for lunch, what time he got off work, everything was clear except who was this person John was so in love with.

"Don't you see that I am not in the usual mood?" he exclaimed, annoyance clear all over his nervous body as he stopped suddenly.
"Of course you don't notice, your mind is otherwise occupied, you are distracted, you are thinking about something else, someone else, even here! Even while cooking dinner for me!" he exclaimed, aggravated.

With his back turned to Sherlock, John could afford rolling his eyes. He still assumed this was about the cigarettes. One of these days, where Sherlock seemed to be more bored than he hd ever before. Where he took it out on everyone an everything.

John put the chocked on the grill and started to get the water boiled. Sherlock accusions made him stop his movement, turning around with a puzzled grimace on his face.

"Sherlock, what on earth are you going on about?" he asked, his short temper already boiling up. He could only take this behavior for so long.

Sherlock scoffed at John's reaction, he was always so bloody clueless and he could hardly take that at the moment. "You know exactly what I am talking about!" he snapped, and moved closer, moving his hand still somehow accusingly.

"You haven't told me, you never told me, you just expect me to find out, but this time you took good care of all the clues, you made sure I couldn't find out, why? Are you afraid I would scare her away?" he continued, shaking his head. "Don't you understand that it's not me being scary it's them being utterly inadequate?"

John sighed visible, audible and deep. He was clearly annoyed with the way Sherlock was treating him but he knew the boring days were always the worse ones. At first he had thought cigarettes, but then he had no clue again and now it did seem to be the cigarettes?

"No, I don't bloody know what you are making such a fuss about." He snapped, losing his patient more and more with every passing minute.

He got even more confused with Sherlock's next waterfall of words. "Clues? Wha-. She?" John stopped talking, trying to remember the last time he had a date. It seemed to be ages ago, at least a few months. "I haven't got a date in half a year!" He exclaimed, still clueless on what Sherlock was going on about.

"Can you not do this? For once?" He said, trying to sound calm but failing. "Acting as if I am suppose to understand what goes on inside that mind of yours?"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed as he looked at John, it was true, John hadn't been on a date in at least six months, but if he remembered the mails correctly, and he always did, well, it was pretty much since he had been starting to have feelings for this other girl.

"So you haven't asked her out yet," he exclaimed, laughing, but it sounded quite bitter to his ears. "Or has she rejected you?" he added, quite sure no love letters had been sent, they were all just drafts, John was clearly still thinking about it, hiding his feelings.

His heart clenched in his chest. John was such a sweet man, he was just so... good...

And Sherlock hated this.

"Don't you know you aren't supposed to confess your feelings like that? In 87% of the cases she will run away scared. Social convention and protocol demands that you ask her out for a drink, try to see how things go, and then you can tell her you are in love with her, not the other way around, that's just utterly stupid," he exclaimed quickly, taking in a deep breath at the end of the sentence.

"But again, who do you expect to lure with that broken romanticism? You can't stop thinking about kissing her, seriously, John? Does that happen when you are chasing criminals or when you are interviewing suspects?" he taunted biting.

"Sherl-." "Wha-." "Who?"
John tried to interfere but Sherlock gave him no chance, so he just walked into the living room and listened to what Sherlock was telling, accusing him off.

Slowly but certainly it became clear what Sherlock was on about. John couldn't believe his own ears, he couldn't believe this was happening. A mixed feeling of panic, anger and confusion washed over him.

"You've been reading my email." He said, more to himself. His eyes staring at his feet as he stood there taking in Sherlock's last words. Then he laughed a little as he shook his head, the smile more like a scoff. "You've been reading my bloody emails." he exclaimed, eyes now fixed on Sherlock's narrowed pair. His lips pouted a bit and his hand rubbed over his forehead. He needed to stay calm but the anger boiling in his chest was taking over his whole body.

"Sherlock I can't believe you. I leave my computer here one day and you read my emails. It's private, password protected. You know what that means? It means it's not an open book and no one else's business except mine!" He snapped.

He still couldn't believe Sherlock's words. those emails, they weren't for a girl they were for him and no one else. But right now John didn't feel like confessing that, he was too upset by Sherlock mocking them.

"And you now expect me to accept advise on the subject of love? From you?!" John laughed again, shaking his head once more. "You know nothing Sherlock, Nothing about feelings." John spat out.

"Oh for God's sake, you should have learned long ago that putting a password on something constitutes more of a challenge than a way to put me off, and seriously? I was just doing you a favor, checking your e-mail," he waved it off quickly, unwilling to talk about the details, he needed to know more about that girl, he needed John to tell him why he was still looking for a way out of Baker street.

The rest of the words robbed Sherlock of his questions though, they cut, they cut like a knife through his heart. To hear them from John of all people, it felt unfair even to Sherlock's shriveled cold heart.

Of course Sherlock wasn't an expert on love, he wasn't going to ever pretend he was, but there were certain things even he knew.
He knew what it felt like to like someone.
He knew what it felt like to watch him look at everyone else but him.
He knew what it felt like to scare everyone away.

For a moment he didn't know what to say.
To silence Sherlock Holmes, that must have been quite a miracle, he thought quite bitterly.

But then another switch turned on, and it wasn't just jealousy running through his veins, it was also anger, Sherlock was upset.
"The simple fact I do not talk about my feelings doesn't mean I do not possess any, John," he hissed, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

"You seem to suppose I do not know the art of courting solely because I do not bother to practice it, but you forget I am an expert in many fields, and one of those is acting, I know how to lure people and I know how they react, I was merely trying to help," he snapped, turning around to hide the hurt on his eyes. "You clearly do not possess the maturity to accept criticism."

Sherlock was right, having a password on it only challenged Sherlock more. But that still didn't gave him the right to go and stick his nose into John's business. There was a reason he'd been taking his laptop to work every day and this reminded him just why. Only because he was in a hurry this morning he had forgotten about it. "It still doesn't give you the right to just go through my stuff, Sherlock. It's private and I fail to see why it would favour me of you read my mails." He pointed out.

The silence that fell between them scared him. This had never happened before, Sherlock was always at least 3 comebacks ahead of him. But this time seemed different and John had to rack his brain to figure out why. His lips parted a few times, but words failed to come out.

When Sherlock finally spoke there was something strange in his voice. Hurt? Jealousy? Anger? At least feelings John had never heard in them before and it made his own heart clench in his chest. But Sherlock accused him for things he had no idea about. He had no idea about how John felt, or who those emails were directed to. If only

"No, Sherlock." He shook his head. "You don't talk about them, you don't show them and most of all, you don't care about them. Especially not others. if so you would have deduced the content of those mails months ago. You might be extraordinary clever, but God, you can be so ignorant about certain things." He snapped back at his flatmate. "And me? Being immature?" He huffed, scoffed and threw his hands in the air. "You are the immature one, acting like a bratty 7 year old whenever things don't go your way!" he pointed his finger at Sherlock.

He wanted to leave the room, to calm down and then confess everything to Sherlock. But then what? He had just mocked John about how ridiculous his words were. He'd just get rejected, and he rather dealt with an upset Sherlock for a week, then to deal with a broken heart for the rest of his life.

Sherlock stood proudly, looking at John as if he was talking pure non-sense, his eyes were wide and filled with feelings he could not keep in check.
"Controlling my feelings is what has gotten me where I am, I need to be able to do it for my job and why am I suppossed to care about other people's when they are just an hindrance?" he snapped, shaking his head.

"But don't you dare assume that I am empty, you of all people should know I-" he stopped, realizing something, "What do you mean I should have noticed months ago?" his thoughts suddenly reeling in another direction.
"If you expected me to deduce them, it means I was exposed to the symptoms, it means-" his face brightened in understanding. "It means it's someone I know, someone we meet often," then his face turned into a grimace, "Jesus, tell me it's not Donovan..."

"I of all people should know what?" John shouted back. "That you're incapable of love? Not to mention completely obvious for the signs?" John knew Sherlock wasn't completely cold, but he was angry and just blurring out words. Although, a bit more sensitivity from the detective's side wouldn't do anyone harm, quite the opposite in fact.

John scoffed loud, laughing Sherlock's words away. "Yeah, Sherlock, Donovan and I meet up weekly, go for tea at Anderson's place every Sunday." He said sarcastic. This was ridiculous, even for Sherlock.

"But one thing you are right about." John took a steady breath, he was shaking from anger. "It's someone you know. Yes, you know that person damn well." Why couldn't he just tell Sherlock who /that person/ was? Why couldn't he just get things over with. He would be rejected anyway.

Sherlock fell silent again, the words hitting him again, disbelief clear on his face when John accused him to be unable to love.
He didn't really hear the rest of the words, John's sarcastic tone passing right through him, it didn't matter any more, who this person was, he didn't try to deduce again, his mind set on a completely different tangent.

The words, the shouted words coming out of his best friends lips, hurt more than he wanted to admit.
Of course John wanted to leave him, of course John kept looking for a girl to fill his time away from Sherlock, it made perfect sense considering he thought he could have no feelings at all.

"You are right," he muttered then, falling back to sit on his armchair, his walls coming up suddenly, closing him off from everyone and everything.
"I know nothing about feelings, I do not know how to make relationships work, I wouldn't even consider sharing my feelings with someone else, because really, who would want to-" he trailed off, shaking his head.
What was he babbling about?

"It doesn't matter, I was not made to mate, I was always alone and that's what I'll always be," he exclaimed finally, looking at John coldly.
"There, are you happy now? No advice for you, you can go and send those bloody e-mails to that secret girl, she'll probably be overjoyed... Not everyone can say they have the affections of John Watson, that's for sure..." He added bitterly, clenching his jaw.

Once more the silence felt completely awkward and painful. Sherlock wasn't one to to silence and already had moment ago. But again? John managed to shut Sherlock up twice on the same evening? The same hour even?! He wasn't sure whether he should see this as an accomplishment or not.

He sighed again, longig for any noise to break this. He didn't like it, it felt uncomfortable and unsettling. John just stared into oblivious, hand rubbing over his wrinkled forehead. Perhaps he he been to hard on Sherlock. Perhaps his words did went through that giant wall of ice an reached his heart. But what were the chances? For all John knew Shetlock was already messing with his mind again to trick him into guilt.

John listened to Sherlock's words, they hurt. They sounded real and sincere. Shit, had e upset his flatmate? And now he was lost for words. He didn't knew what to say at all. Should he apologize? Confess the mails were directed at Sherlock?

He made a growling sound t Sherlock's last words and before e knew he had spilled the words out. "it's not a she."

John didn't seem to want to discuss the matter any more, understandable considering he had pretty much agreed with him, Sherlock prefered the silence to pity, he didn't want John to be nice to him because he thought he needed love, it would only hurt further in the end.

His head snapped up when he heard the words though, his eyes wide, his heart again clenching in his chest.
"A guy? You fell in love with a guy?" he exclaimed, feeling betrayed, before his thoughts finally kicked in.

The many times John had blushed and denied they were a couple.
The soft gazes when he wasn't looking.
That one time when coming back from Angelo John had stood so close, almost brushing his hand as they walked side by side.

It couldn't be, could it?

"John, why," he blurted out, not even realizing his voice was shaking, his heart beating too fast in his chest. "Why have you never sent those mails?"

John could hit himself for blurring out those words. He ha always denied he was gay. He had always laughed at anyone's face whenever they accused him for being head over heels with his flatmate. I'm not his date... We're not a couple... He's just my friend.

"yes Sherlock I fell in love with a man. Is that a problem?" he almost snapped again, but managed to keep his tone down a bit.

The thing is; John had never been gay. Never until the day Mile Stamford had introduced him to Sherlock Holmes. Ever since he had been questioning his own sexuality. He dated numerous women in order to get his sstraightness back, to convince people he wasn't actually gay. But who was he fooling? John Watson was gay for Sherlock.

He inhaled deep, eyes searching for Sherlock's brighter pair. He had heard the shaking voice and for a moment John thought Sherlock finally knew who those mails belonged to. "because I'm scared to be rejected." he said in a quiet confession, now lookin at his own shuffling shoes.

Sherlock flinched at the words, John still clearly angry, but there was a new meaning behind that anger, at least for the detective who now knew exactly what was going on. Everything made perfect sense now.
Those mails, those words, they were directed at him!

Sherlock shook his head, no, it was impossible, why would John like him? They were friends, they were flatmates, could it really be that John wanted more?

"No, of course not, it's all fine," he said with a smile, repeating the words he had been said a long time ago.

He walked closer, he had to try, he had to see if it really was what he suspected.

He stopped only when he was in front of John, a bit too close to be comfortable, his eyes fixing into John's.
"But you are never scared of anything, John..." he breathed out softly.

With john's eyes kept fixt on his shoes, he missed the flinch on Sherlock's face. He didn't dare looking up really, but he did when he heard


footsteps. His heart jumped when Sherlock now seemed only inches away. No matter how angry John had been and perhaps still was, this made his knees go weak.

He wanted to back away a little, to have some comfort but it seemed impossible. John swallowed hard, eyes locked with Sherlock. " I do am scared Sherlock." it came out as a shaky whisper, unintended to be that way. After clearing his throat he went on: "I am scared I'll be mocked at and left heart broken when I sent them. I don't want to ruin our friendship over this." he sighed.

Was this a confession? In any form? Or would Sherlock take this all wrong again and make. Fuss about how stupid it was for a man like him to get scared over something so silly. Because if that were the case, John would sure punch some sense into that pretty face.

Sherlock felt his throat go dry when John looked up, those eyes, those wonderful blue eyes were telling him things the doctor didn't have the courage to say. How had he been so blind? How had he not noticed when it was all he had wanted since that first ackward conversation at Angelo's?

He took in a deep breath, his hand twitching, he wanted to touch John, but if he had to be honest, he had no idea what to do.
Feelings were impossible to stop, as much as he had tried to ignore how attracted he was to John, how jealous he felt, he hadn't been able to control it. But this? Sherlock had no idea how to be close to someone, how to touch them, and it was as scary as hell.

"No one in his right mind would reject a good man like you," he said, visibly shaking.

He couldn't do this, he then realized, stepping back, his head feeling hot and hazy as he looked away.
"You are right, I wouldn't trust myself either, I always mock people's feelings..." he muttered, worrying his lower lip. "But it's usually because I do not realize..."

John's heart seemed to keep racing faster and faster. Did Sherlock had to be this close? Why couldn't he just have this conversation from where he'd been sitting before? But on the other hand; John liked Sherlock to be this close. He even wanted him closer. Much closer.

Even to John it was obvious Sherlock had began shaking. It concerned him, distracting him from his thoughts. "you alright?" he frowned, stepping closer to Sherlock who now had moved away. John reached his arm up, dropping it on Sherlock's shoulder. "you're shaking quite a bit." he pointed out.

"you never realize?" John repeated. "never realize what? The fact you mock people?" he frowned again but kept his hand on Sherlock shoulder, unaware he had. "how can you not realize? It's all you ever seem to do." John did say that with a little smug smile on his face.

Sherlock took in a deep breath when he moved away, but he couldn't relax, John was quick to follow him in fact, and even touching him now, making his heart jump in his throat.
"I am not- alright," he commented, somehow unable to come up with a lie at the moment. "I do not know how to act in this kind of situation, as a matter of fact, I have never been in a situation like this..."

He looked at John, realizing too late it was a bad idea, especially when he still felt his hand burning hot on his shoulder. Jesus, Sherlock felt like he had never been touched before, burning up for something so stupid.
"I never realize I am hurting them," he explained, his eyes moving on the other's smile, why was John not angry anymore?
It was good, surely, but he was starting to be very confused.

It surprised John when Sherlock managed to bring out he wasn't okay. The detective never did, he closed down or hid it under a cover of well considered words. "That's okay." John said softly, realizing how bad he must have been to make Sherlock say something like that. "I appreciate you telling me that." He nodded.

John seemed to be calming down a little, at least for now. He could see the situation with a more rational mind now. "You indeed always cross the line." John agreed with Sherlock. He always had to push people's limits and never knew when to stop. Perhaps because his complicated mind didn't make his words sound as harsh as they actually were. John sometimes felt as the human part of them both, apologizing and making up excuses after Sherlock once more managed to upset someone.

"But you can learn how to. You can learn how act in these kind of situations." He looked straight into Sherlock's eyes. The man was still shaking, it still concerned John. "You shouldn't panic like this. I won't run off with some other man." He tried to sound reassuring as he said so. "So just take a deep breath now and calm down."