[Disclaimer: I own nothing.
[Pairing: Johnlock
[Notes: This came up to me while listening to 'Heaven By Your Side' by A1
Thanks to my dearly beloved classmate, friend, and beta-reader: Jannice Sace - visit her fictionpress =))
Please bear with me.
|Prologue| +Every Soldier Has A Past, And Every Sociopath Has A Future+
Silence ensued amidst the blanket of darkness, the sweetest harmony ever written unto mankind's symphonies… The sky's canvas was lit with the bright chandelier of stars, the luminescence of the moonlit sky; and beneath, glasz irises locked upon sapphire.
Peace lingered along every second that conceded. It was a strain of miracle that has always been there, the concealed blessing that was there since the beginning… only to be pushed away by their spectacular ignorance and evident denial. Their intended fate, though narrowed, twisted, bound, pulled apart, broken, shattered into hopeless fragments, they came out scathed yet faultless. It was… perfect.
Helplessly so…
Two infamous figures swayed synchronous in motion, timed with the faint melody from the main house. Their breaths glided across their faces, inches the only thing that separated them. Hands interlaced around their significant other's waists, chest and hips sharing ephemeral touches along their measured movements…
"What?" the brunette whispered, sincere curiosity lacing the word as his mouth formed a small smile.
The blond raised a brow in return, "What?"
A soft chuckle escaped the former's lips, "You've got questions…" he responded, his matchlessly tantalizing baritone voice soft as velvet, smooth as silk.
"Always, Sherlock." the latter replied rolling his eyes in sarcasm.
A wave of short laughter rushed through them, pushing them through a fit of giggles—both utterly enjoying their privacy under the romantic confines of the garden gazebo's atmosphere to the fullest… The sweet sound ended as lips found each other, both exchanging chaste kisses; hands followed suit, carding themselves in their partner's tresses. Forgetting the heavy burdens of reality and escaping into their sanctuary they fabricated around themselves, only for themselves. It ended as soon as it began; still, it left them both a bit off balanced and disheveled in contrast to their prior appearance, a shy blush also crept its way upon their cheeks trying to prove a well-known point.
The taller male leaned down ever so slightly, his lips centimeters away from the latter's ears, "Well, John?" Sherlock whispered, his breath made John shudder… always.
"The question…" John began, lost along his own thoughts—Sherlock stifled a chuckled with a small cough—but it didn't save him from his lover's glare, "is along the lines of the past…"
"Care to elaborate?" The detective questioned as he moved away, staring deeply into his lover's eyes.
"'Who would I be right now if I hadn't met this spectacularly ignorant man?'…" the doctor admitted teasingly, the former merely stared at him in disbelief, "…and some other things along that line."
"I could imagine a scenario or two," Sherlock replied without skipping a beat, his head already a thousand calculating meters away, "You'd currently be married to some pointlessly boring woman right after retiring from your military service, both of you would produce around two to three kids seeing how capable Dr. Watson is of doing so," the doctor scoffed at the detective's palpable insinuation, "you'd end up healthily living off as some tedious full time doctor while having most of the time of your life, never regretting wedding the dull woman. Whereas, I, at that point, would've died of overdose and would be rotting six feet below the ground." He stated everything in his matter-of-factly tone, "Both of which, I would truly hate to have happen."
"I think," John retaliated thoughtfully, "I would still be suffering from my limp and would be living off on nothing but my half-assed army pension that could never afford London, and live in nothing but depression and loneliness." Sherlock was about to rebuke his statement about how improbable that would be but John cut him off with a huff, "And maybe, sooner or later, I would die and we'd meet in the afterlife."
The detective opened his mouth to speak but the doctor kissed him instead, "Do not even think about—"
It was Sherlock's turn to cut him off, "It may not be the finest story ever printed," the detective said, "but it would be, in your words, incandescently perfect."
"I love you…" John said with a smile, his azure eyes reflecting all his emotions, "…so damn much."
"I love you too…" the words stumbled out the detectives' mouth whilst rolling his eyes, but his words were soft and heartfelt—that, John knew.
They kissed for the nth time that day, both acting like love sick teens… Suddenly, John groaned and moved away from the said detective, not in repulsion or disgust. It was more of… embarrassment, Sherlock deduced, embarrassment from their previous recollections.
Their first confession—it was almost like this one.
The younger male couldn't suppress the chuckle that erupted from the back of his throat only to get painfully elbowed by the annoyed doctor, "Shut up."
To Be Continued.