[ There's an awful lot of staring going on between them, and Sherlock isn't going to be the one to break it. He may take another half step towards him, but that's because he's calculated the way in which John is about to lose his footing - if nothing else, Sherlock will be there to catch him when he falls (because it's not a question of if, it's definitely a question of when).
There's always so much to observe and so little time to take it all in, but he can see it all happening before it does. He has seconds, short as they are, before anything happens. ]
God knows I like to make an impression.
[ The seconds are meant to tick by but they're dragging instead, and Sherlock is watching John with every fibre of his being, from the way he shakes his head to the way that every question dies on his tongue - he's trapped between an odd limbo, one that just doesn't seem to want to end. With every passing moment, Sherlock's finding it harder to remain stoic and in control. It's hard to keep himself at bay, when he's worked so tirelessly until he'd be able to stand here before John again, and for all he knows it's possible that John doesn't even want him there. He waits, and the waiting is what's killing him.
Sherlock doesn't miss a trick. The moment he lets go Sherlock is there to catch him, and he holds John tightly, refusing to let go because he worries that the moment he does, John might run away.
It's a fear that has no business flitting through Sherlock's head, and yet there it is, repeated over and over. He moves to kneel on the ground, careful with John's shoulder and wary of the cold floor below them both - so much so that once he's sat down properly, he lets John's head rest in his lap. He'd like to pretend that he doesn't realise what his hands are doing as his fingers sift through John's hair, but he's always completely aware of every movement he makes. Maybe he can pretend otherwise.
It's good that he has a car available, and better still that he has the authority to pull John out of work early - though that can come later. ]
I'll answer all of the questions you have once we're home. Assuming, of course, you'll still live with me now that I've returned.
no subject
There's always so much to observe and so little time to take it all in, but he can see it all happening before it does. He has seconds, short as they are, before anything happens. ]
God knows I like to make an impression.
[ The seconds are meant to tick by but they're dragging instead, and Sherlock is watching John with every fibre of his being, from the way he shakes his head to the way that every question dies on his tongue - he's trapped between an odd limbo, one that just doesn't seem to want to end. With every passing moment, Sherlock's finding it harder to remain stoic and in control. It's hard to keep himself at bay, when he's worked so tirelessly until he'd be able to stand here before John again, and for all he knows it's possible that John doesn't even want him there. He waits, and the waiting is what's killing him.
Sherlock doesn't miss a trick. The moment he lets go Sherlock is there to catch him, and he holds John tightly, refusing to let go because he worries that the moment he does, John might run away.
It's a fear that has no business flitting through Sherlock's head, and yet there it is, repeated over and over. He moves to kneel on the ground, careful with John's shoulder and wary of the cold floor below them both - so much so that once he's sat down properly, he lets John's head rest in his lap. He'd like to pretend that he doesn't realise what his hands are doing as his fingers sift through John's hair, but he's always completely aware of every movement he makes. Maybe he can pretend otherwise.
It's good that he has a car available, and better still that he has the authority to pull John out of work early - though that can come later. ]
I'll answer all of the questions you have once we're home. Assuming, of course, you'll still live with me now that I've returned.