Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Sherlock BBC world, which is trademarked by BBC, Mark Gatiss,Steven Moffat. Both Sherlock and John are characters created and owned by Moffat,Gatiss, and I do not claim any ownership over them or the world of story I tell here about Sherlock and John is my own invention, and it is not purported or believed to be part of canon. as much as I wish it were so this is not considered canon and I profit in no way from posting this. Don't sue me I have no money.

transcripts from Ariane DeVere .

This story is not britpicked let me know if I made any too annoying mistakes

I am continuing the series "with what beats within." Chapters coming soon

February 17th

John was suffering… His memory of last night was hazy at best and absent at worst. The worst part that wasn't absent was him wanking off while imagining his flatmate. He couldn't remember what happened at the restaurant or their walk home, but unfortunately he vividly remembered thinking about Sherlock with his hand around his cock. John closed his eyes the feeble light streaming in through the curtains made his head ache. If he was being utterly and completely honest with himself, his attraction to Sherlock wasn't a new development, the first time he saw the man a thrill ran through him, that was only further enhanced by his brilliant deductions. John had to admit, it was part of the thrill of working with him, but it didn't mean anything. The man was frustrating and insufferable and more importantly married to his work. Any attempt to get closer to him would be rebuffed. Any time Sherlock even thought that he was planning on chatting him up he shut it down. It was bloody perfect. John just needed to relax and realize that physical attraction didn't mean that they couldn't work together. He found Sally Donovan attractive, but had no interest in changing their professional relationship. This was just exacerbated because he was living with Sherlock, most people couldn't stand being around him this long. His own brother… well Mycroft wasn't a good example. Surly after time this crush would fade. That was all it was.

Febuary 27th

Days later it was still not any easier. John drank heavily of late, wanting Sherlock was growing tiresome. Normally he avoided drinking, but he and Sherlock had gone on several surveillance missions around London, at some of the posher restaurants in town and it was the one thing that wasn't obvious to Sherlock, but everyone on the outside saw these missions as dates and it was beginning to chafe at John's nerves. They needed a real case something to cement their professional relationship so that he would stop thinking of Sherlock as a normal, available person. Sherlock was playing his violin, composing most likely judging by the sudden start and stops, if he thought any less of him after the last couple of nights John couldn't read it from his face. " Good morning John." He said, sounding rather chipper. Suspicious John watched him carefully.

"Tea?" he asked Sherlock nodded before picking up his violin again. The tone was light, surprisingly sweet. Sherlock was in a strangely good mood while John was slowly losing his mind. Perhaps all the surveillance was finally amounting to something. John didn't want to question him, but nothing had come of their surveillance so far and John couldn't see the connection between the series of restaurants. John didn't want to let Sherlock down, but he wasn't sure what they were doing and the more time John spent with Sherlock the more time he wanted to spend with him. John needed the adventure that Sherlock offered, more than he needed anything else, sometimes it felt like he needed that thrill more than he needed breathing. More than he needed anything.

"Are we going out tonight?" John winced at the sound of his words he sounded like a hopeful boyfriend wanting a night on the town. Sherlock waved a hand dismissively

"No, I have a thing." He sounded almost apologetic. Perhaps it was for the best, John wasn't in the best control of his emotions right now. He had never been more confused in his life. He found Sherlock attractive and for some reason, even the idea of it wrecked him. He had gone for so long with this image of himself, John Watson, solider, doctor, man, an image that didn't allow for him to be different and made no room for him to change. He was a right awful judgmental prick being gay was fine for his sister. If anyone insulted her he was there in an instant defending her, but he couldn't be gay, he didn't, couldn't, accept that aspect about himself and he wasn't sure why. Maybe he was a coward, feared his friends would look at him differently, scared that if he wasn't the man they all thought him to be, who was he? John ran an agitated hand through his hair as he stared down at his computer part of him wanted to write. To get the thoughts out and them maybe he could look past it, but he knew that he couldn't put it into words, yet it was all still so new, so unfamiliar. Sometimes it felt like he tried so hard to be everything everyone else wanted he wasn't sure what he wanted. He had always been the good son, the good solider, and the good doctor. What part of him was real and what part was an act? The worst of it was he was actually angry with Sherlock, all his life the attraction had been there below the surface. Yes of course he had noticed it before, but he had always been able to push it away after a time, and forget. His attraction for Sherlock almost felt like an obsession, it smacked him in the face in a way he couldn't deny. He almost wished that Sherlock hadn't reminded him that he was bisexual. It was an identity he was having trouble coming to terms with, and he hated that it bothered him. Still, he couldn't bring himself to regret meeting Sherlock the man brought light into his dark world he was just angry. Until he wrapped his head around being Bi he decided that he would give himself some space. Once he came to terms with being Bi then he could come to terms with wanting Sherlock and hopefully they would have a case before that and he would be able to work out his frustrations that way. He needed something to do he was used to being active. That was what made it worse his mind wandered and he was trapped here all day with the subject of his thoughts.

John leapt up quicker than he originally intended, receiving a wave of nausea as his reward. He really had been drinking too much lately. Valiantly he struggled through it as Sherlock watched him curiously. John was sure the man knew he was hung over. He knew everything; John could only hope that he was hiding his emotions better than he thought. He just needed a god damn case. Sherlock had stepped closer to him when he stood and laid a steadying hand on his shoulder. They were standing very closely together, but no closer than he had stood with other colleagues as they stood around a person in need or when they had stood over the woman in pink. Sherlock was watching him an inscrutable look on his face nervously John licked his lips. Sherlock's grey green eyes unreadable focused on his motion, before forcefully looking away.

"Emotional qualities are antagonistic to clear reasoning." Sherlock said suddenly John frowned as usual, completely lost to the direction of Sherlock's thoughts, he was watching John very closely the same almost pitying look on his face as when he thought John wanted to date him.

"I never make exceptions." Sherlock intoned meaningfully his tone was almost that of a warning "An exception disproves the rule."

John still wasn't sure what he was trying to tell him, his head ached and his stomach rolled and threatened to truly embarrass him, but trying to accommodate John nodded "Yes, of course." Sherlock narrowed his eyes obviously unsure John understood.

"The work is what is most important to me, and I can never lose focus. I need to keep busy, my mind," he said, seriously "rebels at stagnation. Give me problems, give me work, give me the most abstruse cryptogram or the most intricate analysis, and I am in my own proper atmosphere. I can dispense then with artificial stimulants, but I abhor the dull routine of existence. I could never settle into a relationship, I crave for mental exaltation. That is why I have chosen my own particular profession, or rather created it, for I am the only one in the world. So when I say I am married to my work it is the only the truth."

John stared on feeling slightly insulted and flattered at the same time. On some level Sherlock noticed the attraction and either reciprocated or pitied him The man was shockingly intelligent, wildly observant and bloody attractive. John found himself wanting to agree to anything he said to follow him to the ends of the earth if nothing else because it was the only thing that made his life worth living. He didn't think that he could go back to the way it was before they just needed a case and he just needed to get hold of himself. He was willing to give up his peace of mind to be with Sherlock. He nodded solemnly " I understand"

March 23rd

John was at his breaking point. He was sexually frustrated at this point he wanted a good shag more than he wanted food. A key element to his fantasies, was Sherlock Holmes. John wasn't sure if it was the man himself or the sheer fact that he was unattainable. John had struggled with his sexuality for years, only recently coming to terms with the fact that he was attracted to men and the only man he wanted was totally physically and emotionally unavailable. So that was an issue he should, but wouldn't talk to his therapist about. He hadn't even mentioned to her his attraction to men, how could he talk to her about his desire for his mad flatmate. He was also emotionally frustrated. He had tried to focus on a platonic friendship with Sherlock and he was fulfilled up to a point, but there were times where it left him feeling rejected or not good enough and other times he wanted to beat Sherlock into a little bloody pulp and hide the body so well that even he couldn't of found it. They just needed a case. John was bloody frustrated, which was probably why he was having an argument with a bloody chip and pin machine. He glared down at the machine again as he tried to scan a head of lettuce

"Item not scanned. Please try again."John straightened up, staring at the device in exasperation.

"D'you think you could keep your voice down?" he demanded a large part of him wanted to destroy the machine just because he could, but John usually ignored whatever that particularly vengeful part of him wanted. He finally got everything scanned he inserted his card into the chip-and-PIN machine. He typed in his PIN and waited "Card not authorised. Please use an alternative method of payment."angrily John continued

"Yes, all right! I've got it!" anxious to be on his way "Card not authorised. Please use an alternative method of payment." The man in the queue behind him has already picked up his own basket in expectation of getting to the scanner soon. John reaches towards his back pocket, but realized that he had no other way of paying. Embarrassed and annoyed he spoke quickly "Got nothing." He grumbled in defense He pointed accusingly at the machine.

"Right, keep it. Keep that."

As the man behind him looked on in surprise, John angrily walked away, abandoning his shopping. The other man probably thought him a complete nutter, but John didn't care. He was so bloody frustrated he would almost welcome the trade and go back to when his life was just boring, almost. As he walked back to the flat John was thinking about the people who came to Sherlock earlier asking for his help. The Jaria Diamond that had gone missing, silently he prayed that Sherlock would take a case. John knew he couldn't force him to accept cases that wasn't his call, but he really needed a release for all the pent up emotions and energy he was dealing with. It was becoming very difficult to live with him because it was so easy. John had learned to live with people he didn't like in the military, but he had craved alone time. It wasn't like that with Sherlock. They had developed an easy rhythm, they went out to eat mostly because the kitchen, yet sometimes they ate at home John made dinner and put something on the telly. Sometime Sherlock watched with him, other times he would read or sit at his laptop. Except for the sexual tension it was the most comfortable relationship he ever had. That was part of what made it so frightening.

"You took your time." Sherlock called out as he climbed the stairs

"Yeah, I didn't get the shopping." Sherlock looked over the top of his book indignantly

"What? Why not?" annoyed John replied

"Because I had a row," Sherlock glanced up quickly as if to access his wellbeing once he saw him he regarded his book again.

"In the shop, with a chip-and-PIN machine." Sherlock lowered his book a little "You ... you had a row with a machine?" he asked skeptically

"Sort of. It sat there and I shouted abuse. Have you got cash?" with a fond amused smile he nodded towards the kitchen "Take my card." John walked towards the kitchen where Sherlock's wallet is lying on the table, he turned back to his flatmate indignant."You could always go yourself, you know. You've been sitting there all morning. You've not even moved since I left." Sherlock seemed to ponder that and find it humorous. "And what happened about that case you were offered – the Jaria Diamond?" John asked hopefully "Not interested." He intoned shutting his book with a loud crack "I sent them a message." Damn it John thought frustrated. They needed a case so badly. This was the third possible case that Sherlock had dismissed as uninteresting. Soon John was going to go completely mad waiting. There was an odd scratch on the table. Ok living with Sherlock was more annoying sometimes than others, he was not the most thoughtful flatmate for someone who saw everything he didn't always understand someone else's view.

Annoyed John stalked back to the store to pick up the shopping. All the while thinking about the Sherlock Holmes problem. John couldn't leave, not really after having that first taste of adventure he knew it was what his life, was missing what made his life worth living. He was willing to give up almost anything to stay with him. It was a disturbing thought. He had tried to distance himself, he had gone out every night and tried to relax, but he always found himself going back to the flat to see if Sherlock needed him, but that was the problem really, he didn't need him.

Staggered up the stairs carrying several bags of shopping. Sarcastically he called up the stairs to Sherlock "Don't worry about me. I can manage."

Sherlock, was sitting at the dining table with his hands folded in front of his mouth as he glanced at a laptop screen. He seemed almost not to notice John, he sighed heavily as he carried the bags into the kitchen and dropped them onto the table. Sherlock seemed engrossed in whatever he was doing, John turned around from the kitchen table and frowned as he realized which piece of equipment Sherlock is looking at.

"Is that my computer?" maybe Sherlock didn't need him, but his stuff was fine, apparently ignoring him Sherlock started to type "Of course."
"What?" "Mine was in the bedroom." He said as if it was a simple " What, and you couldn't be bothered to get up?" Sherlock didn't reply.
"It's password protected!" John complained indignantly
Still typing Sherlock continued"In a manner of speaking. Took me less than a minute to guess yours."He glanced up at John. "Not exactly Fort Knox." He muttered sarcastically
Annoyed John strode towards him "Right, thank you."

He reached over and slammed the lid down as Sherlock pulled his fingers out of the way just in time. John then took the laptop across the room and placed it down on the floor beside his armchair as he sat down. Sherlock clasps his hands in the prayer position in front of his mouth as he props his elbows on the table and looks thoughtful. John picks up a small pile of letters from the table beside his chair and frowned.
"Oh."
He flicked through the letters, at least one of which was a red bill which needed urgent paying. He shook his head in resignation.
"Need to get a job."
"Oh, dull." Sherlock complained.
He seemed to be lost in thought. John puts the letters back onto the table and looked across at friend for a moment, but then glanced at the bills again and awkwardly sat forward. Not only did Sherlock not need him, he wasn't able to help with his half of the rent yet. John felt useless.
" Listen, um ... if you'd be able to lend me some"
He stopped when he noticed that Sherlock was in a world of his own
"Sherlock, are you listening"

"I need to go to the bank".
He stood up and heads towards the stairs, taking his coat from the hook on the door as he went

John scowled, then jumped up to join him unable to resist.

John looked around at the bank as they were led into an office.

A smarmy looking sharply dressed greeted them. He wore an expensive looking blue suit that John thought made him look conceited. The man had neat brown hair and a snide smile on his face.
"Sherlock Holmes."

They shook hands, Sebastian clasped Sherlock's hand in both of his own. A strange look passed between them.
"Howdy, buddy. How long's it been? Eight years since I last clapped eyes on you?"
Sherlock looks back at him with only marginally disguised dislike. Sebastian turned to look at John strangely accessing him. Sherlock introduced him."This is my friend, John Watson." Latching on to the emphasized word Sebastian continued "Friend?" he asked mildly surprised John wasn't sure how to take that, he wanted to be Sherlock's friend, but he feared for his own sanity that it would be something he couldn't give him right now, he was afraid that he couldn't be Sherlock's friend without losing a part of himself.
"Colleague." John muttered.
"Right."
they shook hands, Sebastian looked at John curiously
"Right."
He throws a brief look at Sherlock as if questioning Sherlock's understanding of the word friend. Grinning unpleasantly, he scratched his neck momentarily and Sherlock's gaze fell on his wristwatch. As Sebastian turned away, John pursed his lips, he had taken an instant dislike to the man and he felt a momentary regret for correcting Sherlock, but he knew he needed to remain strong.
"Well, grab a pew. D'you need anything? Coffee, water?"
Sherlock shook his head.
"No".
"No?" To his secretary "We're all sorted here, thanks."
As the secretary left the room, Sebastian sat down at his desk

"So, you're doing well. You've been abroad a lot."
"Well, some."
"Flying all the way round the world twice in a month?"
John frowned, confused, but Sebastian just laughed and pointed at Sherlock
"Right. You're doing that thing."
He glanced at John as if trying to share a camaraderie
"We were at uni together. This guy here had a trick he used to do."
"It's not a trick." Sherlock said quietly
he was ignoring Sherlock again, still trying to share something with him "He could look at you and tell you your whole life story." "Yes, I've seen him do it." John confirmed
"Put the wind up everybody. We hated him".
Sherlock turned his head away and looked down, his face momentarily filling with pain.
"You'd come down to breakfast in the Formal Hall and this freak would know you'd been shagging the previous night."

Well, that answered one of John's questions.
"I simply observed." He whispered almost self-consciously
"Go on, enlighten me. Two trips a month, flying all the way around the world – you're quite right. How could you tell?"

Sherlock opened his mouth, but Sebastian continued speaking.
Haughtily he sneered at Sherlock "You're going to tell me there was, um, a stain on my tie from some special kind of ketchup you can only buy in Manhattan."
John smiled "No, I ..."
Talking over him "Maybe it was the mud on my shoes!"
Sherlock simply looks back at him for a moment before speaking there was something in his eyes that John couldn't read." I was just chatting with your secretary outside. She told me."
John frowned round at him, confused by such an 'ordinary' explanation. Sebastian laughed humorlessly and Sherlock smiled back at him with an equal lack of humor. John made a note to ask Sherlock about his response later.

March 27th

The last few days had taught John a valuable lesson. One, never, even as an idle joke claim to be Sherlock Holmes ever again and more importantly, he was Sherlock's friend. Sherlock had saved him. John had felt that camaraderie before saving people, being saved, but it was different with Sherlock because of Sherlock both he and Sarah had been put in danger and while the thought of Sarah dying because of him was terrible. John knew that he had chosen this life and he would just as dead without it. They had formed a bond that John didn't think could be broken. There was a pull where Sherlock was concerned. John couldn't ignore it, he would continue to follow him to see what adventures he led him to. This wasn't a romantic relationship, there was tension there, but John knew where he and Sherlock stood now. They had traipsed across London after smugglers, followed the clues, and found stolen treasure. If John wanted to keep that spark of adventure alive he needed to give up Sherlock.

He was working on his blog reading over the words he had written.

[I can't deny that I prefer this kind of life. Being a civilian doesn't suit me. But the thing is, this life we've chosen isn't safe. Sherlock chooses to be this crusading consulting detective and I choose to be his colleague. But he's becoming known. People know of him. It's like that taxi driver said about how this Moriarty knew about him. Then the opera singer, she knew all about him. How long before someone else comes after him? And what happens to the people like Sarah or Mrs Hudson when that happens?

All these people he involves in his adventures... They're not safe. We're not safe. There are forces out there and they're coming for Sherlock Holmes.]

He was prepared to give up everything just to be there when it happened, as his friend, yes a part of him wanted more and likely that part of him always would, he cared about Sherlock too much to lose him now. A heart is something meant to be freely given Sherlock wasn't ready to take what he offered, but John was prepared to give up what he was born to lose.

I am continuing the series "with what beats within." Chapters coming soon.