Crammed inside the cabinet, Sherlock and John tried to sit comfortable, both breathing heavily after the escape. They had just managed to close the door when they heard their followers run past.
After a while, John couldn’t take it anymore, and broke the silence with a whisper;.
"Do you think they’re still in the house?"
"No." Sherlock’s dark voice echoed through the obscurity .
"Great," John moved a little bit. "You think we could, uh, get out?"
"No," Sherlock repeated. John could hear him roll his eyes.
"Bloody perfect." John mumbled. "Why- why is that?"
"Because i said so,"
"Sherlock, i need a reason-”
"Oh, for God’s sake,” Sherlock shouted. Then he mumbled something John couldn’t hear. He shuffled a little closer and tilted his head.
"What was that?" Sherlock let out a huff and turned away.
”The bloody cupboard is locked, okay?”
John let his shoulder fall and sat back. He tried pushing the door open with his feet, but the lack of space wouldn’t allow him to succeed.
Panting, he let out a frustrated sigh and gave up.
"Do you have your phone?"
"It’s with Mycroft. Yours?"
"I- i don’t know actually." John searched his pockets, but they were empty. Fuck it all.
"How long has it been?" John felt tired, but didn’t have a watch on him.
"It’s impossible to know. It might’ve been ten minutes, an hour, two."
"What do we do then?"
"We… wait." Sherlock said, reluctantly. He then sighed loudly.
"Aren’t you bored?"
John was met with a brief silence.
”Of course i’m bored." He laughed a short, humourless laughter. "I’m stuck in a cupboard with… With you." He paused. "Not that you’re the worst possible choice. Being here with Anderson would be terrible, and with Mycroft…" He shuddered. "Complete agony.”
John snorted, but didn’t move.
"Then, what do you suggest?"
"What do you mean?" Sherlock replied, sounding completely drained.
"What do we do? We can’t just sit here and.. and rot?”
”Lestrade should find us before nightfall.”
"What do we do until then?"
"Well, i don’t know…" Sherlock yawned. "Truth or dare."
"What?" John must have misheard.
"Truth or dare. It’s a game you play, right? When you’re with friends?"
"I- i guess. But i don’t think being literally stuck counts as-“
"Please?" Sherlock’s plea was nearly inaudible. John sighed, but smiled a little.
"Hmm, how many people have you killed?"
”Sherlock...” John warned, but Sherlock huffed.
"What? I’m curious."
"Three people, i think." John said after a while. "Including the cabbie."
"Truth or dare," Sherlock said again, but John shook his head.
"That’s not how it works. It’s my turn."
"Well then. I would say dare, but i doubt there would be a lot to do here… Truth."
"Are you a virgin?"
Sherlock opened his mouth, but shut it quickly again.
"Uh…" Sherlock bit his lip. John chuckled.
"It’s nothing to be ashamed of."
"Can i- can i skip the question?"
"You git. Sure, but i’ll ask a new one."
"Have you ever been in love?"
Sherlock sat and stared blankly out in the air for a while. Then he snapped back to reality, and stammered a little.
"Can i skip the question?"
"Haha, no, not this time." Sherlock gritted his teeth.
"I, uh, i wouldn’t say i’ve been in the past, but currently i- i might-" He paused for a minute. "I don’t think i know, actually. What’s it like?"
"Are you seriously asking me how it would be like to be in love?" Sherlock nodded.
"Well… You- you could say that you know, almost right away." John hesitated. "Your heart beats faster while thinking of that person, it feels like you have… butterflies in your stomach, almost. Sometimes you can’t sleep because you think about them, wondering if they like you back." John paused a little. "I sound like a schoolgirl, Christ."
Sherlock stared at him in disbelief.
"Are you serious? Is that how it’s like?"
"Well, yes, for most people, i think."
"That sounds awful." John laughed.
"Well, taken out of context, i guess it does."
"In that case, i- i don’t know, i think i might’ve been in love once. Does currently count?"
"Then, yes, i’ve been in love once. Or, is."
"Wait, you’re currently in love? Like, right now?”
"Didn’t you hear me? Yes, i am."
"Truth or dare?" Sherlock asked after a while.
"Truth, i guess." John became more and more tired.
"Are you really straight?"
"What question is tha-"
"A hundred percent?"
"Of course i a-"
"Yes, Sherlock, i’m pretty sure i’m straight.”
"You’re pretty sure, yes.”
"Oh for Christ’s sake, Sherlock."
"Come on, we’re all friends here."
"….Well, up until now i’ve only been in love with women, but i- i don’t know… I think everyone is able to fall in love with someone of the same sex… i think…"
"Good answer, good answer," Sherlock mumbled. "Up until now.”
They must have been locked inside for hours now.
Sherlock and John were both at the brink of falling asleep.
"Truth or dare," John whispered, groggily.
"Dare," Sherlock replied, eyes drooping. "Good luck with that."
"I dare you to kiss me," John said, and they both laughed.
"What, are you serious?"
"Yeah," John said, slowly. "Unless you’re a coward, that is."
"I’m a consulting detective, i’m not a coward."
"Well then," John said. "Prove it." Sherlock dragged himself up in a sitting position, and lazily reached out for John’s hand.
"Well, come here then." John grabbed Sherlock’s hand and let himself get pulled towards him. It was hard to tell where was where in the dark, but they somehow managed to find each other’s faces.
Their lips touched briefly before John fell asleep, with Sherlock’s chin resting on his head. They laid like that for a while, in peace.
"By the way," Sherlock murmured. "You are the one i’m currently in love with."
The sound of several feet trampling around in the house did not wake them up. Neither the sound of the lock being picked, or the door being opened.
"Jesus Christ," Lestrade said, staring at the tangled bodies, fast asleep in the cramped space of the locker.
“Wake up.” he shouted, and the two flinched.
"What’s the time?" John asked, struggling to get off Sherlock’s chest. "How long have we been away?" Lestrade stared at him for a while, before helping him out of the closet.
"You’ve been inside there for maybe forty minutes, maximum. What have you two prats been doing?”
"We’ve been…. I…" John rubbed his eyes. "Wait, forty minutes?"
"Watson kissed me," Sherlock mumbled, eyes closed, still laying at the bottom of the cupboard.
"Wait, what?" Lestrade stared at John, then at Sherlock, then back at John.
"It’s… It’s not… He’s tired, he’s-"
”For science, John." Sherlock bellowed, still asleep.
"Oh God, i hate you."