Hey my lovelies:) This is my first song fic so I hope you like it. I would definitely recommend listening to this song while you listen, not only just because it's  really amazing and I love it but also because the story is literally written around it so it'll flow better if you've heard the song I think:) you don't have to listen to it though if you really dont want to but it really is good, I promise:). K, ima sleep now, enjoy this very long stream of fluff❤🧡💛💚💙💜

Warnings: I mean, it is slowburn I think is the word so like theres that. I really cant think of any again though, as always, let me know if you spot any. I think my writing is always just too fluffy to have any obvious triggers 🐹🐹

I stay up late and I talk to the moon
And I cant stop telling him all about you
Wonder if you do the same thing i do

John

I roll over and check the clock. Its red numbers red 12:35. I groan. It's so late!! I started going to sleep 2 hours ago and yet here I am, still awake. This is useless. I slip out of bed and go to the window like I have done for the past year whenever I can't sleep, which seems to be more and more lately. It's been raining and the glass is spattered with large round orbs of rain that refracted the light from the London street into something like that from an abstract painting. I look up at the light polluted sky and watch as the silver moon peeks its face from behind the cloud. It must be nice to be up there, so far away from problems, just floating in an indigo world of stars. Noone to worry about and no feelings to have to overcome. Then again, I dont think I'd actually like that. I think I'd get lonely. And I'd miss Sherlock.

I begin to speak to noone in particular. Well yes actually, I am addressing my thoughts to the moon. Yes, I know that is ridiculous but it helps. To have someone to talk to that wont judge me or pull stupid faces and give me unhelpful advice.
"Hey moon. It's me again. I know, I know,  I should be asleep and trust me, I want to be but I just cant stop thinking about him. His stupid half smile is stuck in my head and I just keep thinking about his overly defined cheekbones, like seriously, why are his cheekbones so defined? You could cut butter with those things. And his ridiculous coat collar and how good he looks when he flips it up, even though I laugh at him and tell him not to do it. I love it really. I love him. Urgh, and I wish I didnt because he is a first class arsehole. Hes the biggest bastard I've ever met and sometimes I just want to kill him. But then again sometimes I just really, really want to kiss him and its driving me insane. Genuinely, I think I'm going insane. Do you know what, im just going to tell him. Yep, telling him. I'm gonna do it......

And these four white walls, they know more than my friends
They watch me type messages I'll never send
This is the place that I just cant pretend to be alright

Yeah no, I'm not gonna do. Nope, I fought in a fucking war and I dont even have the courage to tell my best friend that I love him. Oh God, I'm such a creep!! Ooh, maybe I could text him?!? Yeah, texting. I can do that. Wheres my phone. Right, dear sherlock... nope, that is way too formal, let's start again shall we? Ok, Hi Sherlock. Basically, I love you and I'd really like to sha.... Nope, pretty sure he's asexual, he wont like that. Hi Sherlock. So this is really weird and I'm sorry for what I'm about to say but I cant keep it a secret any longer because I think I may actually combustion so here it is. The truth. Why I've been acting so weird lately. Basically, I love you. Yeah, I love you and I think I've loved you for quite a long time now so do with that what you will. Kick me out and shout at me if you want. Or kiss me and like ask me to be your boyfriend. Whichever. I know what I'd prefer but... ok, I'm done now. It's super late and I feel really awkward writing this so, I guess I'll see you in the morning. Ok, love you. Bye."

My thumb hovers over the little arrow and I take a deep breath and I... I chicken out. Just completely fall to send it delete the while thing. Well that went well. Huhhhh, right, well back to trying to sleep and repressing the fact that I am gay for a certain detective then I suppose. Woo, this is fun.

Is your bedroom ceiling bored like mine
Of you staring at it all the time?
Cause its seen so many nights where I cry and I yell at the sky
For not telling you how I feel
Is your bedroom ceiling bored
Like mine?

Narrative

"Ok then Sherlock, I'm going to have some me time if that's ok mate. As much as I like you, I think 24 hours of you everyday for a week might have been a bit much."
John announced as him and Sherlock stumbled into the flat, absolutely zonked after chasing a murderer half way across London in the thrilling finale of a week long case.
"Hmm, yes, I could do with some of that myself. You are great and all, you don't really allow my brain to think to it's full extent. Sometimes I just need a quiet room and a skull." Agreed Sherlock. "Also, possibly a lie down, my lungs do not feel like they should and my head has developed a strange cotton wool effect."
"Right yes, bye then. See you in a bit." They both turned away from each other and headed in the direction if their respective rooms where they both instantly collapsed onto their separate beds. Apparently, neither of them had any plans to actually go to sleep as they both spent the next hour just staring at the ceiling. I have it in excellent information that they both happened to be thinking about *surprise surprise* the other one. Occasionally, short bursts of yelling drifted into John's room from the direction of his friends which wasn't hugely abnormal as Sherlock happened to be..... slightly mental. Well actually, he was an emotionally unstable adultchild prone to rage filled tantrums. John didn't bat an eyelid at these outbursts and couldn't make out what he was saying so he just tuned him out and went back to daydreaming about him minus the immature shouting.
It was a good thing he couldn't make out the words (well good for Sherlock's privacy and the romantic tension in this story but bad for their love life and the long suffering Johnlockers who have had to sit through 4 seasons of John and Sherlock not kissing so would quite possibly like for me to stop building this up and get to the fluff. Unfortunately for them, this is my story so I do whatever the heck I want. Plus, that doesn't fit the song so you'll just have to wait. Maybe there won't even be any fluff this chapter.. you never know, maybe i felt like changing it up (who am I kidding, I am very predictable... or am I?) Can you remember the start of this sentence now? Haha, now you have to go back and read it again, what an evil author I am, anywa, I'll hush now) As the overall content of it was "he's so perfect." "Urgh, why don't you just tell him how you feel?" "Eww, I can't believe you feel anything, especially not this. Get a grip!!!" Which might have lead to an awkward conversation (except we know from much research of fanfiction that it would probably lead to kissing and marriage because that's how this works but shush).

I get up early and talk to the sun
I ask her for guidance but she ain't got none
How am I supposed to know you're not the one?

Sherlock

It's 5am when I wander downstairs and fling open the flat door. I stride out into the morning sunshine and breath a sigh of relief. I couldn't stay in that flat anymore. I know it's ridiculous but I felt like I was being stifled. I couldn't stay there with him, so perfect and oblivious, lying there, fast asleep so near to me. I couldn't cope with that because I just want to lie next to him and it kills me that i don't. And I don't know why!! I don't do this. I've never done this. I don't get all flustered and get my thoughts all muddled. I don't lose control of my emotions and daydream about people. I don't fall in love. Or at least I didn't before. Urgh!! I hate that he's done this to me. I feel like a soppy school girl writing disgusting diary entries about the blond haired boy with dimples that sits in front of me in maths. This is ridiculous. Love is a chemical defect found on the losing side. Love is a chemical defect found on the losing side. And yet it's not because  this isn't a defect. This is like a supernova that has created a whole new world that I can see. But I can't seem to reach it. I'm too scared to reach it in case the door closes while I'm halfway through and I get severed in half. And I become one half and John becomes the other and I can't risk that. I can't risk losing him. I can't return to a life without Watson, I just can't.

So I walk and walk and walk, trying to get him out of my head and I find myself lying on a patch of grass in Regent's park, staring up at the sun. I know I shouldn't because it damages your retinas and can cause early onset recession of vision but the white intensity of it is calming. So I stare at it and find myself thinking of it as a her and addressing my thoughts to her. And maybe John's right, maybe I do need to get more sleep and eat a more balanced diet because I am being weird and delusional but it does help. And I find myself asking her for some sort of ethereal guidance like some God bothering priest but I feel like I'm at the end of my tether here so maybe the heavens could provide some help. It does no harm to ask anyway. And so I do and... nothing happens. What did i think would happen? That the universe would suddenly rearrange itself and deposit a doughy eyed John next to me who would proclaim his love and then we would skip off into the sunset like one of those cringe romances Mrs Hudson is so fond of? Of course not, get a grip Sherlock.

I'm begging to the mirror cause I can't find an answer
Too busy falling apart and I wonder if you're moving on
If you are, what's your secret?
Cause I cant work out where to start

John

I'm staring at the mirror and trying not to fall apart as I gel my hair. It's not really working and I can feel a bubbling frustration building up inside of me. If I don't tall to someone soon -and no, the moon doesn't count-, I genuinely think I'm going to explode so I do the only thing I can think of, I lick up my phone and ring the one person who can relate to what I'm going through. I call Molly Hooper.

"Oh, hi John." Her voice is cheerful as she answers.
"Hello Molly."
"Is there something wrong? Are you ok?" She picks up on my despondent tone and instantly responds with concern and I feel my heart swell for this wonderful human who is so kind and so patient. Why couldn't I fall for someone like her rather than an arrogant arsehole like Sherlock.
"Oh no, nothing in particular. I just wanted to have a chat. Do you have time to grab a coffee?"
"Oh, yes. Yes, I have lunch at half 12. You can pop over to the hospital then and we can go to a cafe if you like. Is it something serious? Do I need to prepare myself for a big shock?" She laughed nervously and I joined in, thinking about the thing I wanted to discuss with her.
"Possibly but it's nothing bad. I don't think it is in any case. Look, can we just talk about it later? I'd much rather have this conversation in person if you don't mind." I felt my anxiety rise at the thought of discussing this when Sherlock was in the same building.
"Oh yes, yes of course. I'll see you in about an hour then?" I breathed a sigh if relief and silently thanked whatever force had provided me with such an understanding confidante as Molly.
"Sounds brilliant. Thank you so much Molly. Your an amazing friend, you know that right?" I could almost feel her blush through the phone.
"Oh umm, thank you John. I've got to go, I'm halfway through a brain dissection but I'll see you soon. Bye." She rang off and I finished messing about with my hair then went to find my laptop so I could blog for the next 40 minutes.

Molly

I hang up my lab coat and head down to the lobby to meet John. I must confess that I felt slightly nervous. I keep replaying what he said on the phone and trying to work out what he could possibly want to talk to me about. He had sounded worried which didn't bode well. Gosh, I hope Sherlock hasn't gotten himself into some sort of trouble again. But on second thoughts, he hadn't sounded urgent so maybe it was just something trivial like dating advice about the latest girl he's gotten himself involved with to follow all the other failed attempts. Yes, that was it. He probably just wanted relationship advice.

We sit down in the coffee shop and order a few drinks before I address it with him.
"So then John, what was this thing you wanted to talk to me about?"
He flushed a deep shade of red and coughed nervously.
"Well, umm, about that. You have to promise to not judge me too harshly and also not to be offended." Ok, this was very intriguing now.
"I'll do my best but now promises. I can't help whether I'm offended or not but I can try not to take it personally if you want me to. And you know I would never judge you." I smiled at him in what I hoped was a reassuring way and pulled at my hair nervously. He licked his bottom lip and looked down before speaking.
"Ok then, I guess I might as well just jump straight into it. Right, umm, here goes. The gist of it is that I'm in love with Sherlock and I know that you used to be too and I was just wondering how you get over a man like him?" I felt my mouth slowly open and i just stared at him for a few seconds before composing myself enough to respond.
"You don't."

Is your bedroom ceiling bored like mine
Of you staring at it all the time?
Cause its seen so many nights where I cry and I yell at the sky for not telling you how I feel
Is your bedroom ceiling bored
Like mine?

Sherlock

Ok, this is getting ridiculous. John has gone out with Molly and i am staring at my ceiling again, thinking about what to do about this "love" business. And I'm getting fed up with yelling at my ceiling for not telling you how I feel. Talking to the sun and not you is all very well but it's not really getting me anywhere and so i make up my mind to just tell you. As soon as you get home, I'm just going to tell you. So i get up off my bed and wander into the living room to look at the ceiling in there instead so that i can talk to you as soon as you get in. I am going to do this. I have to do this because, as i said before, this is getting ridiculous.

I stay up late and I talk to the moon
And I cant stop telling him all about you
Wonder if you do the same thing I do
I get up early and talk to the sun
I ask her for guidance but she ain't got none
Wonder if you do the same thing I do
I hope you do

John

I walk back to our flat, feeling slightly deflated from my chat with Molly but also much better for having told someone. She was really great and we joked about how much of a bastard he is and what idiots we must be for loving him. And then Molly had had to get back to work and I had taken the long way home through the park so that I could think. I thought about all my late night conversations with the moon and began to wonder if Sherlock does the same. I heard him go out super early the other day. Perhaps he was consulting the sun? Then again, maybe that's wishful thinking. It's not as though Sherlock is the fanciful romantic type. Mind you, I wouldn't have pinned myself as that either but apparently Sherlock had turned me into one. I hope you feel the same. I really really hope that you stare at your bedroom ceiling to and fantisise about me. And I also really hope that you proclaim your love for me when I walk through the door. But then again, we aren't living in a fanfiction written by an overly romantic teenage girl (look at me being meta. Fourth wall who? We dont know her) so that seems unlikely. Then again, stranger things have happened. Well maybe not stranger, but a close second. I have a whole blog full of them.

I walk through the door and am instantly accosted by Sherlock who resembles an excitable golden retriever in his eager greeting of me.
"John, hi. Gosh I'm glad your home. You've been away for AgEssss!!" He dragged out the last word to emphasise his point.
"I was only gone for two hours Sherlock." I laughed.
"Exactly, aGeSsss!!" I grinned and went over to sit on the sofa.
"Ok, aGeSsss,  anyway, what's got you so desperate to see me?"
He blushed slightly and adjusted one of his curls in a very cute, awkward way that made my heart do a little somersault, gosh I'm far gone.
"So I would like to ask for your permission to do something. And yoy can't ask me what it is. You just have to let me do it and promise to not get too mad." He had sat down next to me on the sofa and we were turned so we were facing each other.
"Umm, I feel like I might need some context before I agree to anything." I start and then feel a blush form on my face as I feel him place his hand gently on my knee.
"I can't John, I just need you to trust me. You do trust me don't you my dear."
I can't find any words so just nod my head.
"Good."

And with that he does something I've been dreaming of him doing for a very long time. He leans forwards and very slowly and softly, kisses me on the lips. It only lasts a few seconds and I can feel him being very careful to give me space to push him away but I don't. It is very short and he pulls away much to quickly for my liking. His piercing eyes are looking very gently into mine and he shyly asks, "Was that ok? I'm sorry if I crossed any boundaries. I tried to give you plenty of time to reject me and wouldn't have done it at all if your physical signals weren't giving off very strong signals that you wanted me to do it. Consent is of course very important and I apologise if I have been reading you wrong the past few weeks. I really wanted to be romantic and spontaneous and I'm really very sorry if.."

I suddenly put my finger to his lips.
"Shut up Sherlock. First once in your life just shut up." I say and then remove my finger and replace it with my lips. This time, the kiss is much longer and it feels like a thousand supernovas. When we pull apart, Sherlock's face is pink and his lips are swollen and I am sure that my face is the same.
"God i love you My crazy consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes."
"As I love you, my dear doctor, John Watson."

Is your bedroom ceiling bored like mine
Of you staring at it all the time?
Cause its seen so many nights where I cry and I yell at the sky
For not telling you how I feel
Is your bedroom ceiling bored?
Is your bedroom ceiling bored
Like mine?

The end

I hope yous enjoyed that. It's my very first song fic and I actually really enjoyed writing it so there may be more of these in the future if that's ok with you all:). This is super long and I started it at half 10 and it's now quarter past midnight so I'm going to go to sleep now so I don't feel like a zombie at school tomorrow😴
Ok, love you all and as always be kind and stuff, you are all great and amazing so have confidence in that.
K, bye
Isabella
🐹🐹❤🧡💛💚💙💜