Title: Human Pillow - Two
Author: fanficwriter101
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Fandoms: Sherlock
Series: 1) Human pillow
Disclaimer: The characters from the show aren't mine, they belong to others. No copyright infringement intended. Any characters you don't recognize are mine. Feedback would be nice, positive feedback would be nicer. Enjoy!
Category: Sherlock (BBC 2010/12 version) angsty fluffy PWP genfic
Rating: G/PG if you're really sensitive
Characters: Sherlock/John
Spoilers: Specifically A Scandal in Belgravia but anything (including the unaired pilot) might get a mention.
Summary: Why did you become a Doctor, John?
Archive: Just tell me where it's going
Additional 'stuff': This idea came to me while I was doing the washing up. Not relevant, just thought I'd share. This might make more sense if you've read 'Human Pillow' first although I think it works if you haven't.


Late night, Baker Street, 4th January 2012

After a massive washing up session was finally done - Sherlock's offer to make dinner was, John made a mental note, to be declined next time - Sherlock appeared to have used every utensil, pot and pan in the kitchen in making a simple shepherd's pie and peas, John poured himself a drink and settled on the sofa with a tired sigh.

The previous few days had been by turns hectic, a bit scary - they both knew Moriarty was around, probably in the UK - and, at least for John more confusing than any period since he'd moved into Baker Street.

Sherlock had, he was sure, been interested in Irene Adler even though they both knew her romantic interests lay with the female of the species. He had always assumed, and Sherlock had confirmed it on more than one occasion, that Sherlock wasn't interested in a relationship with anyone at all.

His flatmate's behavior during and after the case he'd decided to blog as 'A Scandal in Belgravia' until Mycroft had, somewhat vociferously vetoed any mention of the case on John's blog, was so uncharacteristic, John wondered if Irene Adler had, in fact, found the key to unlock Sherlock's libido. Or at least some small part of his heart.

Coming into the living room from the bathroom Sherlock moved to the window as if he intended to pick up his violin but he veered sharply away from the window after a brief glance outside and approached John.

John just had enough time to put his glass on the table before Sherlock dropped onto the sofa, his head and shoulders resting in the now-familiar position in John's lap.

"Why did you become a doctor?"

John frowned. "Weird question after the last week."

Sherlock shrugged. "Well?"

John smiled, sat back and picked up his drink, sipping at the amber liquid before replacing the glass and resting his hand lightly on Sherlock's chest, his fingers moving lightly over the silk-covered flesh.

Sherlock sighed and said crossly: "My ribs are fine *Doctor*. Now answer the question."

"I hit you really hard Sherlock. Oh, sorry, by the way."

Sherlock sighed crossly. "As I said, I'm fine. Now, answer the question."

John sat back, his hand moving up to rest on Sherlock's shoulder. "The next-doorson's."

Sherlock smiled and waited.

"When I was...um...six, seven, my parents got me a skateboard for my birthday. Our neighbours, the Dawson's, got a puppy about the same time. A black spaniel. It's ears were the biggest part of it. My Mum and Dad called them the next-Dawson's but they told us never ever to say anything to our neighbours about their joke."

Sherlock wriggled a little bit to get comfortable then settled still and quiet, waiting.

"One day I was out on my skateboard after school and I saw Harry in the window of her bedroom. As I looked up at the window, I heard Mrs Dawson calling for Sooty. Before I could stop, the puppy ran in front of me and I fell off my skateboard and smacked my head on the pavement."

Sherlock's eyes closed as he pictured the scene in his head, waiting for John to continue.

"Well, Mrs Dawson ran out after the dog and saw me and stopped and picked me up and took me into their house. She gave me orange squash and biscuits while she picked bits of dirt and grass out of the cut on my head and cleaned it up and stuck a plaster on my cheek. She sent Mr Dawson to fetch my mum. I found out she was a retired nurse and so she knew what to do so by the time my mum came round I was watching TV in the living room with Mrs Dawson."

Sherlock smiled, eyes still closed. "And that was that."

"Why did you want to be a pirate? You get seasick on a ferry and you hate birds."

Sherlock chuckled softly, eyes opening, looking up at John. "Mycroft."

John nodded. "Yup. Your brother and I talk."

"Escape. From the boredom of my life at that time."

"Try being a schoolboy in a cul-de-sac in Hampshire in the seventies." John said with feeling.

"Try being an orphan in a public school in London in the eighties." Sherlock countered.

"You win Sherlock." John said, smiling, his hand moving back to Sherlock's chest.

"I told you, my ribs are fine." Sherlock said, his hand reaching for John's, moving it away.

"Liar. I see you when you're playing the violin. The slow pieces are fine but the faster ones hurt you."

Sherlock sighed, lifted his hand and lay still. "It's just a little bruised. Nothing to worry about."

"One of us is a doctor Sherlock. Let me, okay?"

Sherlock sighed and arched his back, looking upside-down at John. He lifted John's hand and placed it higher up, on the left side of his chest. "My heart John. She hurt my heart."

John nodded and sighed softly. This was one of the times he wasn't happy about being right.
 "I know Sherlock. I know."



Next story in series - Human Pillow - Three.