Special thanks goes toSherlockedmyheart for their Beta. I could not appreciate you more. Thank you so very, very much!

These are not mine in so many ways that I cannot disclaim them all.

Authors Notes will be found at the end. Please excuse my spelling mistakes, I'm dyslexic and my beta, however lovely, simply cannot catch everything.

Two Knocks

It would happen sometimes. At night. Long after the rest of the street had gone to bed. Mrs. Hudson's snores floated upstairs, the sound of taxies' fairs stumbling to their doors, all amplified by the stillness of the night air. It. Two knocks. A light knock on my bedroom door, a pause then another light knock. Then his voice, as soft as it ever got, calling "John, are you awake?"

The first time it happened I hardly knew what to expect. Just a few weeks after moving in I had finally gotten something like normal sleep though the night when there was a knock. Then a pause as he shifted his weight and the floor boards creaked. A second knock and the call, "John, are you awake?"

It couldn't possibly be Sherlock Holmes.

It couldn't possibly be the man who could play violin, literally for days on end, without a care for those who live with him.

This couldn't be the man who left body parts in the fridge.

Or his lab kit on the kitchen table.

Or his mail pined with a dagger to the mantel.

Or any of the thousands of other frustrating things this man does.

This simply couldn't possibly be Sherlock Holmes, the man I know.

But it was...

"Please, John?" Sherlock's voice called, a raw edge penetrating the night.

Sighing I glanced at the alarm. 2:00AM blinked at me, bright red in the pitch black. Even in a groggy state my mind grasped the importance of his using please.

"Yes, Sherlock, what could it possibly be at two o'clock in the bloody morning?" For it wasn't a case otherwise he would have just barged in or started yelling for me. No, this was something else entirely...

The door opened a crack, light leaking in from the night light in the hall. His face striking in the dark.

"Hold my hand, John."

"What?" I said, blinking as I propped myself up on my elbow.

The door squeaked as he opened it the rest of the way, long stride brining him to my bedside in two steps. His frame folded in on itself, sitting cross legged on the floor by my bed, his eyes fixed on mine.

"Hold my hand."

Sighing again I complied, lying back down as I stretched out my arm. He quickly warped his massive had around my thumb. He curled into himself even as I tried to relax again. Did this man's eccentricities know no bounds? I was simply too tired to fight him. Besides I needed to be at the clinic in too few hours from now.

"What happened to being married to the job?" I asked.

"What happened to not being gay?" He snapped back.

I shut up. It was 2:00AM and I was holding my flat mates hand. His larger, oddly feminine, warm hand. A hand I imagined doing rather naughty things when I started to daydream. I dismissed the thought and tried to relax and fall asleep again. Drifting off I vaguely wondered what could have possibly sparked this.

By the time the next morning rolled round Sherlock was gone from my room.

The days went by as normally as a day living with the one and only Sherlock Holmes could go.

AN:

Again, thanks for the Beta!

Please disregard my other work and profile. I opened this account when I began middle school and I have sense graduated high school. I can't bare to delete the memories but I am a different person now.

This was inspired by the Marry Russell series by Laurie R. King. If you like Sherlock you must go read those books now and report back. Go on now, get reading! Its officially published and well done Mary Sue Sherlock Fanfic. You's guys are fans. Get going.