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My ride on the tube every day to and from work is so, so tedious. I've tried reading a book but always get so distracted or start to doze off.
Thought about trying to deduce the travelers near me but can never live up to Sherlock's intuitiveness. It makes me feel inferior.
One evening, while sitting in my favorite chair, I mention how painful the ride is on the tube.
"I have an idea, John, why don't I join you on the way home?"
I look up, somewhat surprised, not understanding what he means.
"I'll meet you at the clinic, and we'll get on the tube and ride together. You'll have someone to talk to."
"Humph, since when are you the celebrated chatter upper? You're a consulting detective and not well known for your conversational skills."
I pick up the newspaper, thinking that's the end of this exchange.
A few minutes later, Sherlock stands up and begins to recite a soliloquy from Hamlet.
Putting the paper aside, I stare at him as he wanders around, gesturing and speaking.
"Sherlock, what does this have to do with my rides on the tube?"
He says huffily, "I can recite lines from any of the Shakespeare plays. In doing this, I should not only keep you occupied, but you may learn something."
"You are the stupidest git I have ever met. Do you know that? Forget I even mentioned anything about this, ok?"
I'm half touched and half-hysterical that he wants to help. I can imagine in my head Sherlock, standing on the crowded train reciting anything.
Dropping the papers, I go to the kitchen and pour one last cup of tea before going to bed.
All day at the clinic, I let out a little chuckle on and off, and Sarah, my assistant, looks at me strangely.
"Sherlock again I imagine?"
"Yea, he has no concept of human interaction."
The weather is raw out, and I'm rushing to the station when an all too familiar voice calls out, "Wait up, I'm coming with you."
"Sherlock, please, please don't do this."
"Do what? You wanted company on the ride home, so here I am."
"No Shakespeare okay?"
"Promise," as he takes my elbow to maneuver us through the crowd.
Suspecting something, I reiterate.
"No monologues or readings out loud from a book etcetera."
"Right, right."
It's rush hour home, and no seat is available, so we have to stand and hang onto the straps. We are crushed tight to one another.
Sherlock is standing behind me, and he holds onto a strap handle and to my shoulder. I'm leaning right against one of the poles.
The train moves out, and everyone gets jostled against one another Sherlock leans into me, and as he does, he whispers in my ear.
"Imagine someone behind you is a sexual deviant. Your body is an easy target."
I slightly turn around, "Sherlock, shut up," I whisper.
"You are not wearing a coat but a jacket. His hand could easily push against your buttocks."
Turning my head around to him and looking up, "Now cut that out!"
I hiss. He's looking up at the ceiling like he doesn't hear me.
We stop, and the doors open. But hardly anyone gets off. More get on than off.
There's a young lady positioned in front of me, her face inches from mine.
The train lurches and moves.
"What would happen if you place your hand on that lady's breast?" the murmur comes again.
Oh god, what do I do with this madman!
I know she couldn't hear him, but my trousers are getting tight thinking of this.
"I bet you could enjoy having both the man grab your bottom and you feeling the woman's breast. Not bored now, are you?"
"You fuck."
The woman looks horrified at me.
"Sorry, thinking out loud."
She maneuvers away from me.
The rest of the ride, Sherlock is quiet.
I wait until we get in the flat to lay it on him.
"What the fuck, god damn fool idea was that?"
Smiling slightly, as he removes his coat.
"Made your evening on the tube go quickly, didn't it?"
My temper is full on now.
"Don't ever, ever do that again. I don't need your fucking little jokes to brighten up my ride."
I slam down the tea kettle and do not talk to him all evening.
I'm relieved not to see Sherlock as I walk down the tube station. But, oh damn, there he is! Standing on the platform.
"Go the fuck away!"
"John, I'll behave this time."
Again, the train is crowded and no sitting space. Sherlock grabs the handle and me the pole, and he finagles to stand behind me.
"Imagine the deviant is behind you again. You can't get away from him. It's too crowded."
I'm getting angrier by the moment.
Then...I feel something! Are you shitting me? It's Sherlock's hand on my ass!
Bringing myself to my full height and in my sergeant's voice, I say as low as possible to him.
"Get your fucking hand off me!"
"Ah, but the deviant doesn't care what you think or want. He's getting his kicks."
His hand starts to massage my ass. If I push away, I'll be right on top of a tall man in front of me. And that won't be good.
"And then the deviant leans down and," And the fucker is licking my ear!
This is Sherlock, touching me! What is happening?
Oh, I know what is happening! I'm getting a shitting hard on is what!
I decide to get off early, leave him behind and take a cab. The doors open, and I try to get out.
But, Sherlock grabs my jacket and won't let go.
"It's not our stop, John."
I glare up at him. Now we are face to face, and even though the crowds have thinned, Sherlock has me locked to his body.
I don't dare look up at him, but if I could, I'd punch him in the face.
"John? Your disquiet, or should I rephrase that as your eagerness?"
But he's right. His thigh feels my crotch hardness, and he makes sure he pushes into it.
The rest of the ride, Sherlock is quiet. I'm in a state of both agitation and bewilderment. At one point, I even let out a groan.
Sherlock's actions have me thrown way off balance.
At the flat, not a word is said. I'm uneasy about saying anything. I go into the bathroom, run the water, and take care of my problem.
Sherlock started this, whatever it is. I don't know what to do, so I let it be.
Sarah, my excellent assistant, ever noticing when something is irritating me, has been watching me all day. I've been irritable and forgetful.
"Whatever it is bothering you, why not tell me? Maybe I can do something."
"Nothing Sarah. Thanks. Maybe I should go home early if that's okay with you?"
She okays it, clearing my schedule for the late afternoon.
I look for Sherlock on the station, even though I'm here four hours earlier. And, yes, the ride home is boring!
It's the weekend, and I don't have the Saturday shift.
The rain is nonstop, so we stay home watching telly and playing Cluedo.
The flat is so quiet that even Mrs. Hudson walks up to ask if we are doing okay.
I refuse to bring the subject up, and it seems Sherlock is locked in his mind palace most of the two days.
Monday morning, as I'm getting ready to leave for work, Sherlock is on my laptop, of course, and I pause to say, "please, no need for you to meet me after work. It's all fine."
"Now why would I do that? I have more serious work to do than to amuse you."
Sarcastic git, I think to myself.
"Oh no, you fuck. Go away."
Because there is Sherlock on the station platform looking smug.
"Now, now, I finished my experiment and, having nothing to do myself decided to ride with you."
We get on the crowded train, and a woman jumps up and runs, last minute, out the door, leaving a seat open.
I take the opening, and Sherlock stands right in front of me. I'm staring straight at his trousered crotch.
I'm not looking up at him, so I put my head down as if to fall asleep.
"Madam, I'm sure my friend would give up his seat to you."
Looking off to the side, an older woman is standing, and I gladly relinquish the seat to her.
Now that leaves me face to face with him.
Sure enough, within a few minutes, the shenanigans start. His leg prods between mine and pushes up against my crotch.
The train pulls into a stop, and as people get out, I try to move away, but Sherlock holds me close and puts his arm around my waist.
As the train moves and lurches, he leans down, and he kisses me. Not a tiny kiss, but a full-blown kiss on the mouth!
Startled at first, then not caring, I kiss back.
I hear murmuring around us and break away, realizing where we are.
"Just wait until we get home" I growl.
"Oh, a lover's quarrel," I hear someone say. And the rest are sniggering.
Quarrel yes, lover's no.
I wait until we get in the flat, turn on Sherlock pushing him hard into his chair.
" You are going to explain what has been going on these last days?"
"John, John, do I have to elucidate? You usually can read me well by now. You tell me."
Minutes fly by as I sit down in my seat and absorb what I think, no how I want this to be.
" Say anything that comes to mind."
"I, I think, you," I pause. This is awkward to put into words.
Something I've dreamed of for so long.
"You want me?"He stands up, kneels by my chair, takes one hand of mine in his.
"John Watson, more than that, although I wasn't sure how you would respond, I played that little game."
"But that was all just about sex, Sherlock. Is that what you are intent on having with me?"
"Well, that is a fascinating aspect of my interest in you."
He takes a deep breath, looks intently into my eyes, "I love you is the other aspect."
I'm brought up short by this admission.
He brings me to my feet, closes the gap between us, and before he can kiss me, "Sherlock, oh damn, Sherlock, I love you too!"
I will never complain again about my boring train ride.