The Yellow Notebook (The Suit-Up Edition)

Suits. A fancy set of outer clothes made out of the same fabric; designed and fabricated to be worn together. Usually consisting of a jacket and trousers, sometimes a waistcoat. Its uses have varied through the years as society changes its perceptions and ways of life. It is worn in special occasions, grieving gatherings, as part of an everyday work-related uniform, or simply to impress your fellow individuals. It is believed that whenever someone wears a well-fitted suit, their position in the world instantly changes, the sense of self-importance grows exponentially and society will immediately think you a different person. A suit can give you higher peer-status, more chances of standing out from a crowd and if you are a consulting detective, it could very well be your distinctive look.

Nevertheless, the word "Suit" (derived from the French word Suite, meaning "following") has a number of different meanings and applications that go way beyond the wearable and fashionable. It could refer to a complete set of separate pieces to form armors in ancient times as protection. Or, when spoken in imperative, could often translate into an expression of the speaker's annoyance as an order to act entirely according to one's wishes.

On occasions, it can be used as a verb, in order to describe the enhancement of the features of something, to comment on a thing that goes well with some other. And it can also behave as a noun, as in the process of trying to win someone's affection, typically with a view of marriage; a prospect. In the archaic sense of the word, it means the act of adapting or making something appropriate for a certain purpose. To improve or amend something in order to expose previously hidden abilities that are worthy of a new intent.

However, our story won't really be about suits, not in the first meaning of the word anyway, nor would it tell a tale gravitating around them and depicting them as a mayor tipping point for the characters. In fact, suits are not actually displayed more than briefly and as anything more than trivial in the whole of it. So if you, dear reader, have come here looking for a grandiose suit-filled narration to satisfy your sartorial fascination, I regret to inform you that you have arrived at the wrong place. But that's life, you see? You never end up where you thought you would be.

Chapter 1: Unlovable

Sherlock found this strange happenings beginning at a crime scene. As anything else on his life, there was always a case to pin it into his timeline, making murders a measure of time in which everything seemed to be lengthen. To be fair, it was not Sherlock's fault this time -even if he initiated the insults- and the detective still didn't know how to wrap his mind around it.

Stories like this don't usually start this way, with offenses being fired back and forth until there is nothing more to the air around them but insolence. In situations such a this, there are names that are in cases permitted, hateful remarks that are even encouraged, but there are always a few things that should never be said. There are things that cross the line, and there is also always someone who uses them and turns the childish and ridiculous banter into something serious. This time was no exception, cue one Sergeant Sally Donovan.

"We're not letting you use the child." She screamed at the top of her lungs. She was clearly distressed and completely missing the point that making the son act as a bait would not mean the child would definitely and without a doubt die. Stupid human, according to Sherlock.

"If you want to catch your killer, you will." He responded with the same venom, just more exasperated at the idiocy he was certain everyone in the world was portraying today just to annoy him.

"Forget it, Freak." She snarled, and John, who had been silently observing the exchange, stood up a bit straighter at the mention of that insult, he hated when the sergeant calls his friend that. No matter if Sherlock never appeared to be bothered by it; it did bother the doctor to no end. "What do you think the family of the kid would say about this? just because you're unlovable doesn't mean-" And that was the last straw for the soldier's temperament.

"Okay, that's enough." The blogger cut her off harshly. Earning a few curious looks from the Yard team, directing their stares at the interruption. "Look, I know he earns some of those insults but you won't ever call him that again." He took a few strides and placed himself slightly between Sally and Sherlock. Almost as if he could make a physical barrier between his friend and her jagged mouth.

"John." The detective tried to stop him, he knew where this was heading. Every time he saw that look on his flatmate's face, he knew the doctor was steeling for a fight, and once the battle had started, he was unlikely to back down. The only upside to this situation was that, for once, he wasn't on the receiving end of this glare.

"Why not?" Sally questioned, as both of them continued their altercation as if he hadn't talked at all. By then, all the police and interns at the crime scene had stopped working and were just waiting to see what would happen. This whole situation was new. Because while the consultant and the sergeant always were at each other's throats, the soldier had never intervened. Until now.

"Because it's not true." The blogger was constantly clenching his left fist, as he always did when he was trying to stop himself from doing something he knew he shouldn't do, but wanted so badly to accomplish. The girl, however, seemed dubious.

"Oh yeah, and you would know?" This was one of those times when the tension builds up to the point where everybody just waits for the other shoe to drop. The inevitable breath before the plunge. Every single time something akin to this was asked or even suggested to either one of the crime-solving duo halves, they all got the same answer: rolled eyes and exasperation from one, or belligerent denial about one's homosexuality from the other.

However, John looked decided now. Determined to defend his case at all costs, reason why he took a deep breath and said, "I know because Sherlock and I are in love."

There was a collective gasp at the scene, as the biggest rumor that has ever made its way into the wages board at Scotland Yard was confirmed. Astonishment painted the faces of those present, including the boffin himself, who couldn't understand why was John doing this. "John, what are you-" He started before being cut off.

"I'm taking care of something you refuse to take care of on your own." John said dismissively, as if that was explanation enough for the huge statement he just vented to a lot conformed by people who had been obsessed on taking any aspect of their private lives and using it against them, and Lestrade. Lestrade is actually quite tolerable.

Even Anderson looked dumbstruck at the revelation, but Donovan suspected there could be more to what it was seemingly happening, so she pressed on. "Yeah right, like I would believe anyone could love-"

"I do, I love him." John declared, not even sparing a glance back to his flatmate behind him, who was so surprised he could barely talk when he spoke, "John, it's fine, you don't have to-" Lie. You don't have to lie, was how the sentence was supposed to go. But his friend clearly didn't care about what he was saying, as he simply continued talking, trying to convince them of something that, by the detective's collected data, was only half true.

"I love everything about him." The blogger began. "And I'm not a man who would say that lightly. I'm a man who has been straight as an arrow his whole life. I thought a man would never come anything close to interesting me." Eyebrows were being shot to the ceiling the more he spoke. People just couldn't believe this was actually happening. "But this man has a hold in my heart that I could not break even if I wanted to. And there have been times that I've wanted to." After uttering this, he turned to see the musician for the first time since the tirade began. His voice held such honesty and his face was so open, that Sherlock almost felt like he meant it.

"It has been overwhelming, and humbling, and even painful at times. But I could not stop loving him any more than I could stop breathing even when he was supposed to be dead. I am hopelessly, irretrievably, in love with him. More than he will ever know." He ended, and there was a pregnant silence coming from all corners of the tiny flat at which they were all cramped. The present team had clearly believed him this time. Nevertheless, the pair of stares that held more significance were the ones being given to each other by the two friends. The curly-haired man could almost dare to hope there was something unspoken between them.

"Blimey!" Greg was the one who broke the silence first. Running a hand through his face as if to rid it from the shock that was surely showing. He honestly couldn't begin to understand what just happened.

Sally cleared her throat and reluctantly decided to take her words back after being proven wrong so dramatically. "Well, I guess I owe you an apology, freak. You actually found someone even crazier than you." She said half-heartedly. As if the sting that her words would cast was't as fun anymore.

John, tired of the tense atmosphere and the drama, grabbed a fistful of consulting detective by the coat and started to lead him out of the scene. "Okay, we're done here." He said, not being able to stand the childish behavior and his own anger any longer. "Sherlock will text you the answer to your murder tomorrow morning." He assured Lestrade, who had always been a decent bloke with them, and was wearing a mixed expression between pride and gladness for them now that the surprise had vanished.

The smaller man tugged the still shocked detective out of the building and into a cab.

"And the oscar for the best fake romantic speech goes to: John Watson!" The army doctor joked in the back of a cab, giggling at the memory of the faces the team had made at his revelation. "I'd like to thank Mrs. Hudson for all the times she sat me down in front of the telly to watch soap operas with her," He said with an acted voice, as if roleplaying an actual award ceremony; which made his flatmate chuckle under his breath. "And of course, Sherlock Holmes for being so throughout at pissing people off that he needed me to come and save him." The smile the blogger casted towards the curly-haired man was one of delight and that sort of giddiness one gets just after a mischief. Smirking towards the man sitting next to him as if teasing his lack of subtlety.

Said detective scoffed, with a pretended flair of outrage. "I didn't need your help. I had the situation under control." And the corners of his mouth were unconsciously tugging upwards, even if John could see a hidden sentiment behind them. Disappointment?

The blonde laughed, because it was the only thing to do after such a ridiculous statement. "We were this close of having to pry her away from you after having hit you square in the jaw." He said skeptically.

Sherlock shrugged and dismissed it, for it was obvious she would never do such an idiotic thing as trying to lay a hand in him; John would kill her if she ever dared, woman or not. He sighed and looked out the window for a moment, the passing cars and blurring images of the city bringing forth a memory he had had nagging at his mind for more than 10 minutes now. "I'll give you this: you were quite convincing."

"I told you my acting skills had improved ever since the 36 hour marathon of bad telly you made me watch for that case." His friend replied, smirking at having proved Sherlock wrong about his ability to fake, or lie, or deceive; actually anything that involved acting.

However, the boffin was no longer giggling with him. He had taken a more serious tone and his eyes gazed at him with suspicion. He put a hand on his blogger's chest as if to prevent him from talking any longer, willing him to see what he meant. "No, I mean, you were really convincing." John could recognize the sort of look he was getting from his friend, he had seen it before countless of times, but it was almost always directed at corpses and suspects. That spark of deducting just trying to make sense of the clues in front of him, questioning their validity.

The older man smiled honestly, and tore his gaze from the musician to look at where his hand was making contact. Sherlock, finally aware of the the location of said limb, let it fall from his flatmate's chest to the seat of the cab, suddenly self-conscious of his own actions.

The soldier decided to break the silence. "Please, you're my mate." He said, and he saw something akin to hurt pass through the detective's face before regaining its former composure. "I wasn't going to let her talk to you like that, no matter how much you provoked her." The intensity of their stares could only be measured in large quantities, both of them sizing the other up. Gauging for a reaction, one with smugness, the other with confusion. Curiously enough, these roles were reversed from how everyone else would have thought them to be.

"I'm just glad they bought it so quickly." The doctor added, still with a smile on his face and a glint in his eye. "Any longer," John's gaze was strong and challenging, and suddenly the silver-gazed man felt ridiculously vulnerable at that slight pause in his speech, in which his flatmate shoot an eyebrow up at him. "I'd have had to kiss you."

Surprise was evident on the detective, but the staring match was only broken by alternating gazes between the other's eyes and lips. A tension so great, loaded with hidden layers of meaning. "I-" Was all the discombobulated younger man was able to say before he was interrupted by the cabbie letting them know that had reached Baker Street.

The spell was broken, and while the detective fumbled to grasp at what just had happened, John had happily paid the driver and was already unlocking the door to the flat. Once Sherlock got out of the cab and entered 221B, he could hear the soldier's merry steps on the stairs, already cheerfully making their way up to have a good night's rest.

Author's note: This work is loosely based on a plot line of the series How I Met Your Mother. If you haven't seen it, or don't like it, please know that you can read it and understand everything. None of the actual characters of HIMYM appear.

For those of you who have seen it, you know where this is going. Also, there are a few nods to the original hidden not very subtly in the narration.

Hope you all liked it, I will update every 8th day.

Let me know what you think.