The fact that Sherlock even makes a hit is a surprise to himself and probably the others. John and him had been blocking blows and having a go at each other for a while now, movement so fluid and quick that it was almost like they'd practiced it.
This was a fluke, it couldn't be happening.
He's so focused on it all, on John, that he's completely forgotten there are any others in the room even watching them. His attention is only for John. Sherlock circles with him, breathing through his nose, catching his breath, but at the words his eyes widen. He does, he feels it, he knows what this means, but that's what frightens him. That someone might be compatible with him. No, no that John Watson is one hundred percent compatible with him. No doubt.
"I don't feel anything." He'll try to convince himself as he says it, brows furrowing. No, no this can't be true, it's just a fluke. No one was compatible with him, he's a freak, he's different and he knows this. Known it all his life, why would that change now? Mycroft can tell something is wrong, and looks slightly concerned. He'll give a cautionary 'Sherlock', warning his brother to behave. Not to make a scene.
This only has Sherlock stepping back, away from John, away from the one thing he's always wanted.
"I'll make a new list, you won't have to wait long." Sherlock says, voice tight, quick, and he turns away moving to Mycroft and shoving the rod at him and collects his shoes then heads out. Everyone just sort of stands there a bit perplexed at what just happened. Even Mycroft who looks between exasperated and shocked. Though really should he be? This was Sherlock after all.
If someone were to want to find him, he will be in his bunk, door locked and sitting on his bed, staring at the wall no doubt. Fingers steepled under his chin as he thinks. Thinks while staring off. He didn't leave John there because he was afraid of becoming a Ranger finally, of being able to pilot Vatican Cameo. No, it was because he was afraid, god afraid ha, of finally having something he wanted. Having a connection with someone who might not find him insane, someone who maybe could deal with him, but he knew that was too good to be true. It wouldn't last and it would be just like anything else. He was better off alone.
Alone he couldn't get hurt. Or so he tells himself. Still it doesn't stop him getting frustrated at himself and he'll ruffle his curls in anger, tossing his pillow across the small room.
no subject
This was a fluke, it couldn't be happening.
He's so focused on it all, on John, that he's completely forgotten there are any others in the room even watching them. His attention is only for John. Sherlock circles with him, breathing through his nose, catching his breath, but at the words his eyes widen. He does, he feels it, he knows what this means, but that's what frightens him. That someone might be compatible with him. No, no that John Watson is one hundred percent compatible with him. No doubt.
"I don't feel anything." He'll try to convince himself as he says it, brows furrowing. No, no this can't be true, it's just a fluke. No one was compatible with him, he's a freak, he's different and he knows this. Known it all his life, why would that change now? Mycroft can tell something is wrong, and looks slightly concerned. He'll give a cautionary 'Sherlock', warning his brother to behave. Not to make a scene.
This only has Sherlock stepping back, away from John, away from the one thing he's always wanted.
"I'll make a new list, you won't have to wait long." Sherlock says, voice tight, quick, and he turns away moving to Mycroft and shoving the rod at him and collects his shoes then heads out. Everyone just sort of stands there a bit perplexed at what just happened. Even Mycroft who looks between exasperated and shocked. Though really should he be? This was Sherlock after all.
If someone were to want to find him, he will be in his bunk, door locked and sitting on his bed, staring at the wall no doubt. Fingers steepled under his chin as he thinks. Thinks while staring off. He didn't leave John there because he was afraid of becoming a Ranger finally, of being able to pilot Vatican Cameo. No, it was because he was afraid, god afraid ha, of finally having something he wanted. Having a connection with someone who might not find him insane, someone who maybe could deal with him, but he knew that was too good to be true. It wouldn't last and it would be just like anything else. He was better off alone.
Alone he couldn't get hurt. Or so he tells himself. Still it doesn't stop him getting frustrated at himself and he'll ruffle his curls in anger, tossing his pillow across the small room.