Hello everyone! I'm sorry! I know I haven't written anything for a while and I have missed everyone so much! I recently bought the Sherlock Holmes novels and have been reading them so naturally something came into my mind :P

I'm sorry for any mistakes and I hope that you all enjoy!

Summary: Set in The Blind Baker. Sherlock couldn't deny the terror he felt when he learnt that John had been taken, but he was surprised how much it scared him. Johnlock

Not so ordinary

Sherlock studied Sarah's profile, the terror still radiating from her body. John was trying to sooth her but his usual comforting words were not holding. Sherlock knew that it was over, that Sarah would no longer be a part of John's life and Sherlock was happy with that. Sarah took up far too much of John's attention.

He couldn't deny the terror he had felt when he had seen the yellow spray paint on his window.

Someone has taken my John, was what he had thought. Looking back on it now, Sherlock only realised that he had said my John. Sherlock had never been socially aware and he certainly didn't reduce himself to trivial emotions. It had been drummed into him at a very young age that emotions were not beneficial by their father. His mother had been more affectionate and so Sherlock recognised the emotions but never dared to feel them. Mycroft had always told him that caring was a disadvantage.

That was until John came along.

John. The man looks so ordinary, so simple minded like the rest of the population but it was to Sherlock's surprise that he was anything but. He was a mystery, with so many layers that Sherlock couldn't wait to peel them back and see what they revealed.

He straightened when Sarah left with a police officer and John came wondering over to him, hands shoved into his pocket. Blood was still stuck to his temple and Sherlock pursed his lips. He never wanted to see John hurt in anyway and for the first time, Sherlock felt the stirrings of guilt in his stomach.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked as they fell into step with one another, heading back to Baker Street. They would need to catch a taxi but for now they needed the walk, the fresh crisp air.

"Hmm? Fine," John replied, waving Sherlock off. "You?"

"I'm not the one who had a gun smashed across his temple," Sherlock replied and John winced, reaching up to touch his wound. He flinched again and lowered his hand, his fingers coated in blood.

"Yes, but you were strangled twice on this case," John added.

"I suppose," Sherlock shrugged and he shot a glance at John. They grinned at each other before looking away again.

"How did you find us?" John asked, his voice curious.

"I figured out the code," Sherlock responded. "I found the book they were using and deciphered the rest of the code that hadn't been translated yet and came here."

"Brilliant," John murmured and Sherlock was once again surprised at how amazing John found his abilities.

"They left a warning on our window," Sherlock said.

"I don't suppose there is any chance of you helping to clean it off," John said and Sherlock's lips twisted into a smirk.

"None at all. Boring," he drawled. John huffed out a laugh and shook his head, wincing at the action.

"Didn't think so," he murmured. Sherlock waved for a passing taxi and it stopped for them. They clambered in and Sherlock relayed the address and they relaxed back into the seats. They were silent for awhile, Sherlock sitting pensively while John tired to assess if he had a concussion or not.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock said finally and John looked up, startled.

"What?" he asked stupidly.

"I said that I was sorry. I have worked alone for so long that I forget that I have to factor you into everything now. Forgive me."

"Hang on," John frowned. "I can take care of myself."

"You can. You were doing admirably," Sherlock agreed and John looked confused.

"You never apologize," John frowned, peering at Sherlock closely. "Sherlock, were you...were you scared?"

"No," Sherlock huffed, but the lie was clear in his tone. John smiled and he chuckled.

"Even self proclaimed sociopaths can get scared Sherlock," John hummed and Sherlock refused to look at him. "I knew that you would figure it out anyway."

"You did?" Sherlock asked, looking to John.

"Of course," John shrugged, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "If anyone could have solved it, it would have been you and you did."

Sherlock peered at John carefully, his gaze moving up and down him. John began to shift under Sherlock's intense gaze, aware of everything that Sherlock must be seeing.

"Here we are," the cabbie spoke and Sherlock was out of the taxi faster than John could ever move. John paid, having gotten the dropped wallet from the tunnel and hurried after Sherlock. He climbed the stairs more slowly than usual, a rush of dizziness sweeping over him. When he made it into the apartment, Sherlock was coming into the sitting room. He directed John to his arm chair and sat him down, handing him a cup of tea.

John took a sip and felt some warmth come back into his body.

"Sherlock, can you get my medical bag?" John asked and Sherlock swept out of the room. He came back quickly and placed it on John's lap. He began to rummage through it while Sherlock hovered around him.

John got out some wipes and something to clean the wound. Sherlock shifted his bag out of his lap and took the object from John and began to clean his wound for him. John watched with a curious gaze, unable to read Sherlock's expression. This behaviour was out of the ordinary for him and John was trying to catch Sherlock's eyes which were fixed on his wound.

Sherlock finished cleaning the wound and quickly disposed of the materials. John waited for Sherlock to come back and watched as the taller man perched him on the edge of the couch and steepled his fingers under his chin and pierced his gaze on John.

"How do you do it?" Sherlock asked, his voice frustrated and John gave him a confused look.

"Do what?' John asked.

"Nobody has ever made me feel this way before," Sherlock continued his rant. "And you, so ordinary and yet such a mystery can make me feel things that I find unimportant, that shouldn't rule our lives and yet for ordinary people they do."

John sat dumbfounded. Was Sherlock saying what John thought he was saying?

"So how do you do it?" Sherlock asked, frustration evident on his features now.

"Sherlock," John said gently, his temple throbbing and his hand pounding. He had been day dreaming about this moment for quite a while, ever since there first adventure with the cabbie. "Has it crossed your mind, that you aren't as married to your work as you were once before?"

"What do you mean?" Sherlock demanded.

"Sherlock, you care because you are interested in me," John explained gently.

"Of course I'm interested, I just said that. You look ordinary but you are far from it," Sherlock huffed. "You are a riddle."

John smiled, a blush settling on his cheeks. "Thank you," he said, knowing that it was a compliment from Sherlock. "but what I meant was that you are interested in me in a romantic sense."

Sherlock was silent, still staring at John.

"I see," he said finally. "I need to be in my mind palace."

"I'm going to go rest," John supplied, knowing that Sherlock needed quiet. Sherlock gave a brief nod and closed his eyes. John stood, gazing at Sherlock for a little while before walking slowly to his room. He changed out of his dirty close and into some clean pyjamas before slipping into bed and falling asleep, exhausted.

John stirred awake by the feel of a body next to his. He squinted his eyes open and saw that the moon was casting light through the curtains, indicating that it was still night or very early morning. John blinked himself awake and felt his temple throb and wondered what the bruise he no doubt would have had formed.

He rolled over and came face to face with Sherlock who was peering at him through hooded eyes.

"I'm in love with you," Sherlock said, his voice husky and deep. John swallowed, his throat dry and he cleared his throat softly. "Not good?"

"No, good. Ah very good," John responded, still trying to break through the haze of sleep and his throbbing temple. "Are you sure?"

"I have come to only one conclusion," Sherlock explained. "and it would seem that I have fallen in love with you. You are everywhere in my mind palace. Mycroft only has a small bedroom."

John smiled, feeling flushed with pleasure. "Really?"

"Hmm," Sherlock hummed. "I hadn't noticed before."

John felt Sherlock's hand trail down his arm and John shivered at the touch. He was aware of how close Sherlock was, could feel his body pressed against his. Sherlock's scent was cocooned around him and he wondered just how long Sherlock had been lying there.

"But now it is obvious," Sherlock continued. He hesitated and it was the first time John had seen him do so. "Do you...feel the same way?"

John chuckled low in his throat and slid his free hand into Sherlock's curls and pulled him into a kiss. He felt Sherlock freeze against him and John gently moulded his lips against his until Sherlock started to respond. Sherlock moved tentatively at first before kissing back.

John broke the kiss, his breathing heavier than usual and his lips tingling. Sherlock looked dazed and John smiled smugly to himself.

"That's a yes, in case you didn't deduce that," John answered huskily and Sherlock's eyes snapped to him, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"I did, good doctor," Sherlock said and wrapped an arm around John's waist, pulling him closer. "but it would seem that I have much experimenting to do."

John chuckled before pulling Sherlock back into another kiss. They could talk about details later, but right now John was more focused on what he had been dreaming of for months.

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