anarion | Fic: Another blink in time

Here comes the fourth chapter of 'Another blink in time'. John is having a hard time focusing on anything but Sherlock (apparently a common problem)! :) Have fun reading!

Title: Another blink in time
Author: anarion
Words: 1170
Warnings: UST
Pairings : Sherlock/John eventually
Beta: the wonderful and ever so patient

verityburns
Disclaimer: Sadly the characters are not mine and no money is made (that would be sooo cool!).

Chapter 3 here

Chapter 4

John stood in the doorway, cane clutched in his hand, and for the first time allowed himself to really feel his attraction towards Sherlock. It had been there from the first glimpse, but he had kept it at bay, at first because it confused him and later because he didn’t dare to get his hopes up too soon.

Now he was certain and as the relief flooded through him that he found Sherlock, it was mixed with a deep longing.

This was more than physical attraction, though Sherlock was definitely very attractive with his pale skin, dark hair and cat-like eyes. This was John longing for his companion, for the bond they shared, the deepest connection possible between two souls.

He wanted to step closer, wrap his arms around Sherlock and feel him. He wanted to hear Sherlock whisper his name, see his eyes light up with recognition and share all these memories with him.

But when he looked into Sherlock’s eyes, there was no recognition. He didn’t remember yet and John felt himself at a loss. Should he say something? Should he just wait? He wanted Sherlock to remember so badly, but now that he had found him and was there to keep him safe, John decided he could give him the time to remember on his own. Forced recollection was painful and could be dangerous.

While all these thoughts raced through John’s mind, he and Sherlock were still standing motionless in the hallway, staring at each other. The moment (that would quite likely have turned into awkwardness soon) was interrupted by Mrs Hudson, who seemed very upset about something going on in their flat.

Sherlock ran up the stairs, closely followed by John, who stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the policemen. What the hell was going on? A drugs bust?

John was vaguely amused and tried to reason with the DI that Sherlock did not seem the type to enjoy recreation but lost all train of thought when Sherlock stepped right into his personal space and looked at him intensely. John thought that he could feel the body heat on his skin through all his clothes. God, the man was too close! And at the same time not nearly close enough.

Unhelpfully, John’s mind went completely blank. The only thing he could think of was that the way Sherlock said his name was entirely too sensual.

His heart skipped a beat and then started hammering away. He felt a flush on his face (maybe he could blame it on the fact that he had never before been in a drugs raid?) and noticed himself staring helplessly and longingly at Sherlock’s lips. He wanted to kiss him so badly right now that it took a lot to control the impulse.

Inwardly, part of him started laughing hysterically at the thought of grabbing Sherlock in front of all the people from the Yard, wrestling him to the floor and trying to get his hands on warm skin, all the while kissing him senseless.

Sherlock suddenly stepped back to reason with Lestrade and John nearly lost his balance.

He ignored the two arguing men and had just managed to compose himself when Sherlock ripped open his sleeve and exposed a pale wrist. Damn that man. John’s heartbeat sped up again and he fought the urge to reach out and run a finger across the skin. He imagined it to feel smooth and cool.

Luckily Lestrade’s peace offering (in the form of another naked arm with a nicotine patch) and the following talk about the case distracted John enough to get his face blank again.

In the following mayhem of Sherlock working it out John got called stupid twice. He never had been insulted so often in such a short space of time as he had since meeting Sherlock. Charming.

When they found out that the phone seemed to be in Baker Street, the chaos got worse. The policemen were shouting possible explanations to each other, Lestrade was trying to establish some order and Mrs Hudson was talking about a taxi.

Sherlock suddenly gazed into the distance and when John asked him if he was okay his answer sounded as if he was somewhere else entirely and he walked out like a sleep walker.

Soon after that the police left and John was suddenly alone in the flat. He had a strange feeling that something wasn’t right, but couldn’t place it.

He decided to go out and look for Sherlock, when the website announced that it found the phone. John took one look at the location and it all fell in place: The cab driver nobody had called, the phone being at Baker Street, Sherlock’s strange behaviour and disappearance. He grabbed his jacket and the laptop and ran down the stairs.

With a lot of luck and a slightly illegal manoeuver he got a cab and directed it to Sherlock’s location. He ran through the building, thinking ‘God, please, don’t let it be too late!’ His heart was beating too fast and his breathing was not right, but it had nothing to do with the running. He could not lose Sherlock, not after just having found him.

His hands were sweating and slipped from the door handles he tried to pull. With every passing minute he got more and more frantic. Where was Sherlock? Was he still alive? He had to be!

And then, finally, he found him. He was alive, standing there, talking to the cabbie, and then he raised his hand. He was holding one of the pills.

Suddenly John became absolutely calm. He pulled the gun from his waistband, took aim and shot the taxi driver straight above the heart without hesitation. Then he dropped to the ground to avoid being seen and slipped out of the building unnoticed.

He returned to the scene from a different direction, ran into Sergeant Donovan, who explained to him what happened and then he just stood there and watched Sherlock talk to Lestrade. He felt ridiculously happy and relieved to see him alive and unharmed. That put him in an inappropriately good mood, which seemed to irritate Sherlock, because he felt the need to mention that John had just shot a man.

John considered showing some remorse, but the fact that those wonderful eyes were still very alive and fully focused on him now made him a little light-headed and shortly after that they were both giggling as the adrenaline was running down.

There was a moment when Sherlock smiled at him and John understood why Lestrade saw in him a great man with the possibility to become a good man. John saw it, too and, since he knew that Sherlock only needed to embrace that part of him that was still inaccessible, John was really looking forward to the day the new Sherlock would emerge. He felt happiness bubbling up at the thought of that and the future at the side of this wondeful, mad man.

Next chapter

.