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Author's Chapter Notes:
I re-edited this, didn't realize what a mess it was when it posted. There is some hurt/comfort in this so if that's not your thing leave now. Also a bit of MH/GL
Title: Devotion in the details
Author: Keikokin
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Rating: K+
Pairing: John/Sherlock with a hint of Mystrade
Disclaimer: These characters are the property of the BBC. No maliciousness intended. No profit being made. All mistakes are mine.
Authors Note: I could just see details like this behind the scenes.

Sherlock leaned over the chair in which John Watson sat, to read over his shoulder. John typed away as he sighed in enjoyment of how pleasant it was to have Sherlock so close. He still recalled the cold, insensitive lout Sherlock had been when they’d first met. But Sherlock had changed quite a bit in the past months of being flat mates. They understood each other better now too. “Are you writing for them or for yourself?”

The question took John by surprise. “What do you mean Sherlock?”

Sherlock huffed, but John didn’t notice any irritation to it. “If only you and I read your blog, would you still write it?”

John blinked. “I don’t know.” He smiled. “It’s kind of nice knowing there’s people out there who believe in what you do.” He turned his smile to Sherlock and was suddenly very aware of the small space between their faces.

Sherlock smiled back. “What do we do John?”

“Oh you know, solve the cases and such.” John chuckled, still amazed he was this close to Sherlock without the other man bolting away. It was certainly progress.

“As what?” Sherlock asked.

There was a heavy moment of silence where only their breaths could be felt between them. Sherlock tilted his head and John was stunned to realize Sherlock was about to kiss him and he wasn’t sure he was going to fight it, when the door burst open. It was Lestrade in a panic. “Sherlock it’s Mycroft, he -”

At that moment Greg Lestrade took in what he was seeing before him, two men who looked ready to devour each other. The air around the room went rather still as Sherlock stood up and gripped John’s shoulders from behind. John patted his hand a second, looking with concern from Sherlock to Greg as he too made his way to his feet. He didn’t let go. Greg pretended not to notice, although he was sure he was staring and probably blushing.

“Mycroft’s been poisoned. He’s at the hospital now.” Greg had regained his panic. “I’ll drive you there.”

As one John and Sherlock grabbed their coats and closed the door of the flat behind them. They slid into the car and Greg noticed John had not let go of Sherlock’s hand. Sherlock in turn seemed to be silently communicating with John who nodded with understanding. Greg looked out the window and tried to ignore the fact Sherlock was leaning into John. When did Sherlock Holmes of all people becoming capable of showing emotion?

They soon arrived at the hospital and Sherlock leapt into action heading straight over to the main desk for directions and information. Greg watched in amazement as John Watson walked over to Sherlock; put his arm around his waist while talking to him softly. Sherlock instantly calmed.

“I’m sure he’s fine Sherlock. It’s alright to be upset. I’ll be right, if you need me.” John whispered.

“I always need you John."

From across the room Greg Lestrade watched as the two men leaned toward each other, before reluctantly stepping away from each other. They began making their way down the hall hands firmly clasped together with Lestrade following, doubting his own eyes.

Halfway down the hall he ran into Donovan. “What are you doing here?”

She jerked her head toward where the pair had just turned into a room. “Freaks brother needed more protection. It’s on orders from Her Majesty herself, if it’s to be believed. I think someone’s taking the piss.”

Lestrade didn’t comment. He’d noticed the sophisticated and elegant bearing that was Mycroft Holmes, more than once. It was attractive in a commanding way. He stopped in front of Mycroft’s private room, inside Sherlock sat by his brother and John sat next to Sherlock, still holding his hand.

Seeing Donovan had seen it too, he quickly covered her mouth and shoved her away from the door. He moved his hand slowly. “Not a word Sally or I spill about that white spot on your shirt yesterday.”

She spluttered and left quickly, muttering about freaks all the while. Lestrade turned back and walked into the doorway. He noticed Sherlock was sitting back and John had an arm wrapped around his waist. Mycroft looked tired and sleepy, smiling softly toward the pair. But all Greg could feel was overwhelming relief the man was okay. Mycroft’s gaze turned his way and the small smile soon covered his face. “DI Lestrade.”

“Greg, please. I am very glad to hear you are doing better.”

Mycroft paused and blushed. John coughed, although it sounded like a chuckle and Sherlock was smirking. “Did you know brother dear that Greg here burst into our flat, looking scared to death out of his concern for you?”

“You were.” John said accusingly with a smile on his face too. He looked at Sherlock fondly. “These Holmes men are hard to define or label wouldn’t you agree Greg?”

“Yes, I would, most definitely agree Doctor.” There was an awkward moment before Sherlock cleared his throat and stood. Greg had his head down and pink in his cheeks.

“We’ll just nip off then. Shall I call Mummy?”

“Yes,” Mycroft whispered his voice sounding raw from the poison he’d drunken unknowingly with his evening dinner. Greg was instantly at his side, pouring him a glass of water, helping him sit up and drink it. Sherlock and John exchanged a knowing look.

They left the hospital and decided to walk back. Sometime during the walk their hands found each other once again. “So Mycroft and Lestrade?” John laughed. “That was odd.”

“I fail to see why.”

“Are you defending your brother’s honor?” John laughed again.

Sherlock huffed. “I really don’t want to know if he has any honor left to defend. Your comment simply suggested that he was incapable of attracting another soul.”

“Hey,” John tugged Sherlock’s hand forcing him to stop walking. Sherlock wouldn’t meet John’s eyes and he looked away. John reached out grabbed his chin and turned his face. “No brother of yours could ever be ugly Sherlock, I just can’t see the attraction myself. I’m a bit preoccupied by how bloody gorgeous you are.”

Sherlock smiled and looked down. But John could sense there was more. He started walking toward the flat again with purpose dragging Sherlock along until the door of the flat closed behind them. John turned toward Sherlock and put his arms around the waist. “He’s okay Sherlock.”

Sherlock nodded and held tightly onto John. If John felt the top of his hair get a bit damp he said nothing about it. He’d held soldiers until they cried out. There was nothing unmanly about letting it all out once in a while. This was simply another stage of Sherlock’s growth, letting himself feel emotions for those he loved. John hoped he fell into that category himself someday.

Eventually, they made their way over to the couch and after getting Sherlock to take his coat off they soon fell into their evening routine. John switched on some crap telly and made some tea. Sherlock spread out on the couch. They sat for one show before Sherlock said suddenly. “Come here John.”

John sighed, stood and made his way over to the side of the couch. Sherlock suddenly sat up and made room for John to sit next to him. “I just remembered something we forgot to finish.”

John frowned. “What would that be?”

“May I kiss you Captain John Watson, Doctor, Blogger and keeper of one Sherlock Holmes?”

And just like that doubt disappeared from John’s life, hope, dreams and desires took over and he closed the gap between them muttering. “Oh, god yes,” Their lips met and things were never the same again. And neither was ever happier.



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