A/N: This is my first attempt at fanfiction. It's just a little situation I imagined, since all of the tension between them (they do have it in the book too, in case you haven't read. The whole thing about Watson's admiration, Holmes always depending on him even when he doesn't have to… it's and amazing bond)

Just wondering Dr. Watson's line of thoughts after chapter 1 of season 2. Especially after reading the site of Dr. John Watson's blog which gave me the idea.

Of course, they don't belong to me. =)

THANK YOU silver cat 777 and Lita Kelly!

CHAPTER ONE – Truth

John was baffled; he was there, in Buckingham Palace, talking about sex with... Mycroft Holmes. Well, not actually talking about it but just naming it. Still, this plain action was more than enough coming from the older Holmes' brother. The simplest of the comments, 'don't be alarmed… it's to do with sex,' and Sherlock's quick reply 'Sex doesn't alarm me,' exposed to John more than he ever wanted to know about his flatmate. Especially after Mycroft's little comment 'How would you know…'

And right there, sitting next to Sherlock, John could have sworn he saw little white fonts floating around the taller man: 'Sex doesn't alarm me' 'No, not really my area' 'I know it's fine!' 'I consider myself married to my work…' '…although I feel flattered…' 'How would you know…'

John shook his head as if to shake his thoughts. 'The task at hand, the task at hand!'' He took another sip of his tea and peeked at the images in Sherlock's hands.

"...photographs of whom?" Sherlock was asking his brother.

Two men in suits, one of them being Mycroft, explained the case to them. John was having a hard time focusing on his tea. He concentrated on trying to catch the most relevant bits of the meeting... his mind was still elsewhere though. Little white letters continued to float around Sherlock. He tried to ignore them. He wondered if that was the way Sherlock saw -observed- the obvious things in other people. Actually, something obvious under Sherlock's eyes could even be the most insignificant detail to a normal eye. But under John's scrutiny, every little detail about his friend started to repeat in his mind; the jokes, the awkward moments, the constant teasing. He knew Sherlock had nerves of steel, but they kind of failed when there was a situation regarding human emotions. He had the tendency to lose his cool, like a few weeks ago at the pool. Maybe that was the reason he preferred to call himself a functional sociopath.

After the meeting they got into a cab... and John was finally able to concentrate on the case.

He expected this to be another solved and unimportant case: they would find the photographs, give them to Mycroft and be done with it.

**...**

A couple of months later, with the case solved, John sat in his armchair with his laptop over his knees, determined to write the final details about The Woman's case. It was only a little past ten in the morning and the fireplace was on in the living room.

"The Woman

I can't say much about the actual case because of the Official Secrets Act but the country was nearly brought to its knees by one person - Irene Adler. She's now under a witness protection scheme so we'll not be seeing her again. And Sherlock seems fine with that.

Sometimes I wonder if Sherlock had ever loved someone, not that I dare to ask, I mean, in the romantic sense of the word. There is this one girl who works in the morgue – I won't say her name – and she seems to be interested in him, but he doesn't make any move. She's pretty, and it's obvious, everyone knows it. How can Sherlock misunderstand when she invites him to coffee?! It seems so ridiculous when he just says 'black, two sugars' every time she asks him out, as if he doesn't understand, as if he doesn't follow. If everyone else gets it, of course he has to get it as well.

But this time, The Woman seemed to have an impact on him, I can't put my finger on it… but I certainly can't call it love. It's more like mutual interest in the mind, not in the woman herself…"

John stretched a bit in his chair and took a large breath of air. He eyed around the place, coming out from the trance of typing his emotions down. He knew he had been typing like mad.

He spotted Sherlock then, who was watching him from the other side of the room with a tiny smile on his lips. Why was he writing this? Why was Sherlock so hard to understand… and the worst of all, why was it so frustrating? John thought he could play the game of deduction too; he had learned a lot from Sherlock, so why not to use it on the man himself?

John kept his gaze locked on Sherlock's eyes for a moment, but the detective broke the stare to look down at the violin in his hands. Silence was good with Sherlock. Those peaceful moments they had after a case were not the kind of awkward silence, but a nice, comfortable silence. John knew this time it was different though. Several times he had caught Sherlock re-reading Irene's phone, and seen Sherlock with a lost look in his eyes more than once, and the weirdest of it all: looking at him, as if searching for something.

Sherlock stood from his sitting position and started to play a lovely melody. Again, his eyes were fixed on John's; two pale pools of energy staring at the doctor. John smiled lightly and his eyes immediately closed, tilting his head back, sighing silently. Yes. He was enjoying the peace.

But too soon, Sherlock groaned, frustrated, and the melody was over. John snapped his eyes open. The violin was placed carefully on the couch and Sherlock started to tap his right shoulder with the bow in a nervous gesture. John rolled his eyes: Holmes was bored. Again.

Snorting, John read the entry he was about to post in his blog. He rubbed his temples and suddenly felt a heavy stare over his left shoulder. Somehow, Sherlock had positioned himself behind John and was now reading carefully the contents of the blog with a deep frown. A chill went up John's spine at the sudden closeness, even though being this close was more than normal for them. His mind snapped back to what he had written: what the hell was he thinking? As if he could just go around, posting these things for the whole world to read? Without even talking to Sherlock about it first? He regretted what he had written as soon as he watched Sherlock's eyes dancing around the screen.

"You're right." Sherlock moved quickly, sitting in the leather chair in front of him. John opened wide eyes and sighed, rubbing his temples again.

"Look, Sherlock, I'm sorry. I shouldn't…" he pressed the delete key of his laptop.

"Don't do it." Sherlock made a gesture with his palm down, reaching out his arm to the man in front. "You're right, there."

"Do... do what? What do you mean?"

"I see you pressing the delete key. Don't do it, it's... fine. You're right, every word." Slowly, the detective supported his elbows on his knees and brought his palms together, resting his chin over his fingertips.

John stared at him with a frown, not quite understanding what Sherlock meant. In his mind, those white little letters floated around the man once more, only this time, they showed more questions than answers. The same phrases as before, but now with a couple of phrases from the last case with The Woman; 'and somebody loves you…' 'I think he knows exactly were (too look)… not sure about you…' 'You jealous?' 'We're not a couple!' 'Yes you are…' 'Who the hell knows about Sherlock, I'm not actually gay.' 'Well I am… look at us both…' 'AT him, he never replies…' 'Does that make me special?'

Maybe unconsciously, John adopted the same posture Sherlock had; his laptop was now balancing on his knees, his palms together and his fingertips below his chin. Sherlock lifted an eyebrow to him. John observed him carefully, his mind was running at a speed he didn't know it had.

"You're not going to tell me, then?" John started a little analysis in his head; well, this was not what he wanted to know at first, but he couldn't miss this opportunity, now could he? More than once he had found himself craving for information about the man in front. Always had, since the very first day. Sherlock knew so much about his private life, and yet John knew so little about that of the other man – almost nothing – and that fact made him, in a way, jealous? Yes. Jealous.

"You can deduce, John. Go ahead and try. You know what I do; you've learned quite a bit." Sherlock didn't move, the corner of his lip just curved up a little, defiant eyes staring intently.

"Is this going to be a test?" John smiled against his will. It was incredible how Sherlock inverted the situation. Sherlock was supposed to be the one feeling exposed, but now, with those little words, he was the teacher who wanted to test the student, so John would be the one feeling exposed instead of him. Clever, really. "I am not going to go ahead just because you asked me to, Sherlock. If I do it, it's because I want to." Sherlock smiled genuinely this time. "And I'm not going to shoot in the dark, you know..."

"Oh, I would expect no less." Sherlock stretched his back and rested both of his arms at the back of his chair. He placed his left thigh over his right one, his chin dipped down to his chest and he stared up, almost in an insolent gesture.

But he didn't count – or maybe he did – on Dr. Watson's behaviour when being challenged. John stared back at him, blatantly. He observed him from the tip of his shoe to the top of his last curl. He wanted Sherlock to feel watched, naked if you will, defenceless. Sherlock followed the intense gaze with ease. It seemed a battle of wills. After a couple of seconds, John stood up and placed his laptop on the chair. He took a few steps, closing the distance to the detective in front, his eyes never leaving the pale ones observing him back.

Sherlock felt his pulse rising at the proximity of the other man, he couldn't help a little surprised smirk. It was a quirk of the corner of his lips, but it didn't escape John's eye. The doctor seemed reluctant; his walking pace was secure and deliberately slow towards the other man, until he suddenly stopped and Sherlock let out a suppressed sigh. John's lips curled into a little knowing smile. He was almost touching Sherlock's knees with his own, taking him out of his comfort zone... and he was enjoying it far too much.

"I know you think you're a sociopath…" John started; Sherlock noticed how he hadn't cleared his throat as he usually did when he was insecure.

Sherlock tried not to move any facial muscle as he listened to his flatmate, but he couldn't help but to interrupt. "A highly functional sociopath."He corrected, his voice not sounding convincing at all; he mentally cursed. John didn't show any sign of being perturbed.

"… and you think you can't feel anything." John was talking fast, just as Sherlock did when he was making a deduction. "Yet, you got upset when Mycroft said you could be alarmed by sex. Oh, how do you know that, John?" he added mockingly, "just because you answered too fast, Sherlock, as if to defend yourself. He said you wouldn't know about it. That leads us to the woman. Oh! The woman, Sherlock. You knew from the beginning Irene and Mycroft had a previous relationship; she knew so much about you, and she teased you just like Mycroft did; as if they'd talked about it before. It was so...clear; she even commented you didn't know where to look when looking at her naked. Then there was the moan in your phone. You could have changed it easily, oh but you didn't. You wanted us to hear, you wanted us to notice how one erotic sound was something you could handle easily. But don't think for a second I didn't notice the flinch on your face every time you'd received a text. Therefore, that meant you wanted to prove to us something. Prove something you are not, almost as if you're ashamed of not knowing about sex. Or... maybe you do know about it, but you've never done it, am I right? Maybe you do know many things about it, but never experienced it yourself. You probably think it's just an act for procreating, and deleted it from your hard drive. Or maybe you think you're too above us to let us know that you actually want to find an ideal partner, you don't want to take it lightly like most people do. You are waiting for… how do they say... Mrs. Right. Which of course, could be an issue from youth, most likely a girl, or a boy for that matter, who used the word 'love' with you, when you knew they didn't feel it... probably she... or he, even tried to get physical with you, making you actually think the way you do now about sex. Am I wrong."

John lifted his eyebrows trying not to reflect on his face the little party inside his head right now. Mentally, he was shaking his own hand for not losing the calm there. He could understand why Sherlock felt so triumphant every time he did it. Indeed. It felt... amazing.

Sherlock released a breath of air he had restrained in his lungs, coming out far too shaky for his liking."You did very well, John". His tone wasn't angry or surprised. He was just stating it as a matter of fact.

"That's it. That's all you have to say." John cleared his throat now, going back to sit in his armchair. Sherlock couldn't help but smile as he watched John; he placed his laptop back over his knees and pressed the delete key for a while.

"Oh, sorry. I meant…" Sherlock put on his best surprised open-mouthed smile and John looked up at him, knowing Sherlock was waiting for him to watch. When he had his attention, the detective made every syllable slip from his lips slowly "Fasss-cinating".

John's brows darted up and his little smile turned into a light chuckle, it was soon followed by a deep one from his companion. His shoulders couldn't stop shaking with it. Soon he and Sherlock were doubled over laughing. Every time they looked at each other the laughter became more uncontrollable. John tried to form words.

"That felt… bloody amazing." He said still giggling.

Sherlock absently rubbed his eyes. "I know." He stated. Amusement still evident in his voice. His lips remained curved in a smile as he watched John type something on his laptop. Then the doctor clicked loudly on the touch-pad, letting Sherlock know the entry was posted.

Sherlock brought his laptop to his knees and browsed the blog. He found the new entry:

"I can't say much about the actual case because of the Official Secrets Act but the country was nearly brought to its knees by one person - Irene Adler. She's now under a witness protection scheme so we'll not be seeing her again. And Sherlock seems fine with that.

Of course, he isn't fine with it, not really. But he'll get there."

John knew Sherlock was curious about the blog, even if he would never admit it. So he just waited there. John knew he would leave a message. After a while of fast typing, another loud click was heard in the flat, this time coming from Sherlock's laptop. John pressed F5 and read the new comment.

"Really, John, what's the point in this post? If you can't detail what happened in a case because of some ridiculous law thing then why bother?" Sherlock Holmes 12 March 11:32

John looked at Sherlock over his laptop. He was waiting for an answer. Very well, then.

"It adds context. Gives people an idea about the real you." John Watson 12 March 11:35

Again, a loud click. He saw, without lifting his eyes, how Sherlock pressed F5, rolled his eyes in a humorous way and typed again.

"How does it? And why should people want to know the real me? What's the point?" Sherlock Holmes 12 March 11:37

When the loud click was heard, John pressed F5 again. He lifted an eyebrow at Sherlock and furrowed his lips to a side.

"You're right. There's no point."

"John, I don't really care what people think about me."

"I have no doubt…" John cleared his throat and questioned suddenly, "Was I right?" Sherlock smiled. There was the insecurity again. "You know… about what I said."

"Most of it. It wasn't me, though."

"I… I don't think I follow…" John tilted his head a bit with a light frown, very curious now.

"It wasn't me… you know, she didn't try to get physical with me. It was…" Sherlock made a disgusted face, wrinkling his nose.

John nodded knowingly and pulled the laptop closer, "Mycroft." he added.

Sherlock nodded as well and continued, "Well, he started his politics career when he was very young, so I guess he was a good prospect. I used to look up at him. One day, I entered the living room in our house and there was this girl all over him. He was almost giving in."

"And how did you know she really wasn't in love with him?" John was curious about the situation, forgetting almost completely to congratulate himself for being almost right.

"Because… she uh…"

John smiled and finished the sentence, "…she had confessed to you, first."

"Yes... but still John, we were really very young." Sherlock took a hold of the notebook in his lap and pressed a lot of keys in the process, the blog reloaded.

"Are you two writing messages to each other when you're in the same room?" Mrs Hudson 12 March 11:40

Sherlock let out a throaty giggle looking at the screen. John frowned and pressed F5 to see what had Sherlock so amused. He saw the comment and typed down an answer with a little giggle of his own.

"And where are you Mrs H?" John Watson 12 March 11:45

The answer came immediately.

"Downstairs :) (That's a happy face by the way)" Mrs Hudson 12 March 11:46

John laughed hard this time. Sherlock pressed F5 on his computer and smiled at the screen.

"She got into a fight with Mr. Chatterjee, maybe he finally told her he has a wife." Sherlock said.

"Wait… how do you-"

"Haven't you noticed she's wearing perfume early in the morning? Who else finishes a job that early and gets here with warm bread, smelling like a bakery in the morning? He is planning to take her on a cruise, but he probably hasn't said a word about it yet. Cruise season starts in a couple of months; maybe… maybe he's waiting for his wife's answer before hers. That way if his wife doesn't go, he'll take Mrs. Hudson instead…" Sherlock moved his eyes to John, who was staring at him with wide eyes.

"You're making that up."

"Oh come on John!" Sherlock was typing away again. "You really haven't noticed how he gets here? He's been coming about half an hour later this week, probably because he's going to the port every day to check if the prices went down…" Sherlock pressed a key loudly, sending the comment. John panicked.

"I certainly hope you didn't write that down to Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock glared at him. "That was quite... amazing." He whispered. Sherlock's expression changed to a satisfied smile.

"Are we really doing this?" Sherlock Holmes 12 March 11:48

John snorted at the comment. Really, now he could see how silly this situation was. He ran a hand through his hair and stretched his neck, letting out a soft groan.

"You in pain?" He startled a little at the comment. Was Sherlock always this conscientious of his actions?

"It's just a gesture, Sherlock."

"Oh." Sherlock pressed F5 key again.

"It's all very clever isn't it! Do you think in the future people will stop talking to each other face to face?" Mrs Hudson 12 March 11:50

"Can you imagine that, John?" He said waving his hand to the screen. John pressed F5 and a somewhat sad smile crossed his face.

"Sadly, I can."

"But we are still talking, aren't we?" The comment and the tenderness of his voice made John look up and stare into Sherlock's clear eyes. The white glow from the window at his right gave him a phantasmal aura; his eyes were too shiny and... he really had to stop staring.

"Yes." He cleared his throat. "Through a computer." He rubbed his neck once more.

"But not now." Sherlock had a smirk on his face and was still staring intently at John. They locked gazes for what seemed an eternity. John broke the visual contact. Sherlock wasn't planning on leaving more comments, but the look in John's eyes made him want to shake the doctor up a bit.

"That's something to live and hope for." Sherlock Holmes 12 March 11:55

John gave Sherlock a side glance.

"You are taking the piss." John shook his head and blinked slowly. Sherlock didn't say a word but just kept on staring at him. That stare always succeeded in making him a little nervous, he knew he was being scanned and read. So he betted for his best resource to make Sherlock think about other things, just because it would irritate him: food.

"I'm starving. Anyone fancy going out for brunch?" John Watson 12 March 11:57

"Brunch! Fancy!" Mrs Hudson 12 March 11:58

Sherlock smirked and started typing again, muttering something John couldn't quite understand but sounded suspiciously like 'Urgh, transport again.'

"Can't be bothered. Bring some food up, Mrs Hudson." Sherlock Holmes 12 March 12:01

"I'm not your housekeeper!" Mrs Hudson 12 March 12:02

Sherlock and John's eyes were glued to the screen now. They were, either too lazy to do something else, or had finally come to a conclusion of how childish this whole thing was. Mrs. Hudson was enjoying the game and, John knew, Sherlock loved the lady, she was close like a mother to him.

"But you've just come back from the cafe which means you've lots of cakes you won't eat." Sherlock Holmes 12 March 12:04

"That was going to be a surprise!" Mrs Hudson 12 March 12:05

They both could hear the groan of frustration downstairs; they looked at each other and giggled.

"Well, stop typing and surprise us!" Sherlock Holmes 12 March 12:07

"Sherlock!" John threw his hands in the air and gave an exasperated sigh.

"Sorry, Mrs Hudson. John's given me a look. Apparently that was rude." Sherlock Holmes 12 March 12:09

"So much for brunch." Said John aloud, stretching in the armchair.

"I screwed it up, didn't I?" Sherlock had a very unapologetic face. John couldn't help but giggle for what seemed the 100th time today.

"Yeah, nice played indeed." John sat up straight. Sherlock typed again.

"Please, Mrs Hudson. I'd really love some... brunch." Sherlock Holmes 12 March 12:13

"It is a little late for brunch now, isn't it?" Sherlock said yawning. Then he covered his eyes with his hands and threw his head back in the chair.

John observed Sherlock for a while. The way the man stretched in the couch was feline, his arms and legs were long and well formed. He remembered his comrades in the army and smiled. Sherlock didn't have the contour of army guys; he was more… elegant than that. He remembered the times he had seen him fight. He wasn't strong and rude but his style was closer to martial arts. He recalled the punch he had given him when they were about to go to Irene Adler's. It was quite the punch. He smiled at the thought of the little wrestle they pulled. He remembered then again Irene Adler's words 'And somebody loves you… if I had to punch that face, I'd avoid your noise and teeth too.' He shook his head. He was spending way too much time with him. He was shocked when the word beautiful quickly crossed his mind while watching Sherlock stretch there; his head thrown back, his long neck exposed.

"Do you realise we've done nothing this morning but chat with each other and Mrs Hudson, who is downstairs... and here's the sad part: we are in the same room?" John asked typing absently.

"It's lunchtime now. We missed brunch." John Watson 12 March 12:17

"Yes." Sherlock seemed relaxed. His mind was absorbed thinking about how he found himself enjoying this. Doing little nothings with John, chatting with him, through the computer or in real life really distracted him. He wasn't bored at all. He was pleased with him, especially after he impersonated him so accurately some hours ago. And he was right. He was right about everything except that it wasn't him, but all of the other things he said: John had realised Mycroft and Irene had a relationship before. He knew they'd been talking about him and also knew he'd never had a sexual partner in his life and, of course, knew the exact reason behind that.

It surprised him most though, that now John knew something about his private life and he wasn't upset, quite the contrary. John was the first person to ever pay him that much attention; enough to know how to read his subtlest reactions. John was aware of everything, even in the slightest flinches of his brows. John knew how to recognise all of his moods. And, most importantly, John knew he could feel. A pleasure - a luxury - he had denied himself for years, but John knew it now. It made him feel exposed, but, again surprisingly, it didn't bother him.

"John?" Sherlock didn't have to take his hand off of his eyes to know John was looking at him.

"Hm?" John cleared his throat. Sherlock grinned.

"Stop staring at me." He took his hand off his face and in one fluid movement he was back typing on the computer in his lap.

"I'm not..." John eyed the kitchen and saw the mess on the table, he moved to clean it up a bit.

"This is incredibly tedious. Is this how you people talk to each other? What next, the weather?" Sherlock Holmes 12 March 12:25

Just when he had pressed enter, the door opened and Mrs. Hudson entered the flat with a couple of trays in her hands. John quickly reached out to help her. He turned on the kettle in the kitchen, arranging the mess on the table and muttering something like 'damn experiments'.

You can actually find the entry and the messages in John's Blog. Hope they don't sue me, but I found this so amusing and couldn't stop thinking about the middle facts.

johnwatsonblog

I hope you liked this chapter. There is more to come. Notice this fic is M rated for a reason.

And please, feedback is very welcomed! =)