"You've written love letters," Sherlock asserted.
Bookmarked by coolcucumber2012
02 Aug 2022
Lestrade invites John along to a yearly ritual of humiliation at paint-ball. Sherlock wouldn't miss this for anything.
- Part 1 of Indelible Universe
John is respectful. John keeps his distance. He doesn’t look at Sherlock when Sherlock decides trousers are for dull people. He doesn’t breathe in and savor it when Sherlock flings himself onto the couch first thing in the morning, wafting alpha scent, dressing gown settling around him in a cloud of blue silk. He doesn’t linger when he’s piecing Sherlock back together after a fight, even though he’s half-dressed and beautiful and right there.
He can ignore it. He can control it.
“Oh,” he whispers, sounding almost awed, “you were happy! You were happy she slapped me, you enjoyed seeing me so humiliated.”
“No, no, I didn’t,” John murmurs, affection throbbing in his chest at the wounded amazement in Sherlock’s voice when he whispers, “Filthy liar.”
Amnesia is just another case to solve. Piece together unfamiliar faces, reconstruct the old identity, the lost reality. A challenge that Sherlock could even enjoy. He can read people like books. The man with the silver hair is his boss. The tottering old woman, his landlady. The girl with the worried look in her eyes…infatuated. And as for John Watson? His husband. Obviously.