Ok, so this is a song fic, it's Johnlock of corse so if you don't like gay things don't read. The song is "Fall For You" by Secondhand Serenade, I think if you have two seconds you should check it out, it's a really pretty song. This fic doesn't follow the song exactly, but I tried. This is also the first multiple chapter fic I've ever posted (and hopefully the first one I'll finish!) so this is like my first try at an official fic, wish me luck, and please enjoy!
(Don't forget to give me my drugs (reviews))
WARNING:
Yoai(boyxboy), sex in later chapters, cursing, and possible suggestions of Mystrade (sorry if that doesn't fit w/ your head cannon)
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK. Or Benedict & Martin…I wish I did though. I don't own Secondhand Serenade either...
Chapter one- Sacrifice
But hold your breath
Because tonight will be the night that I will fall for you,
Over again,
Don't make me change my mind
Or I won't live to see another day,
I swear it's true,
Because a girl like you is impossible to find…
You're impossible to find…
This was not happening. It all seemed so fictitious. But there he was plummeting off of St. Bart's towards the cold, unforgiving pavement. Just like John's stomach. "SHERLOCK!" John shouted, dropping his phone to the cement and sprinting towards the man he loved so dearly. He might have even made it too, if that bloody biker hadn't rammed into him. Slightly disoriented, he scrambled up and tried to get past the circle of people crowding the famous detective, his ears ringing. "I'm a doctor, please… He's my friend, let me through," he said the pain leaking into his voice; why did everything seem so blurry? He reached over, still not really seeing, his vision going even more blurry, but he felt the tall mans wrist. No pulse.
He cried.
-One moth previous-
"John," Sherlock said quietly, softly tracing the small scars on John's back. "Yeah?" The army doctor replied, turning his head to see his lover out of the corner of his eye. "You know I would do anything for you right?" The younger male asked, pulling the sheets a little higher over their waists. "You sure that's not just the post-shag aura?" John teased, chuckling slightly. "Really, John, I would. I would take a fall for you…I would take a bullet for you…" "And I'd give a bullet for you, Sherlock, we both know that. I know that you'd do anything for me, because I would do the same for you…" John replied reverently, having turned to face his lover. He softly placed a hand on the analysts cheek, and planted a chaste kiss on the heart shaped lips he so dearly adored. "I love you," they both murmured in unison, slightly surprised they grinned and kissed the night away.
-back to present-
It was all so surreal. It couldn't be true… It just couldn't… But the pulse, or lack thereof, on Sherlock's wrist did not lie; the man was dead. John had seen friends die before, some right on his operating table in Afghanistan, but then again, he had never loved them. He had never loved anyone like he loved Sherlock. He shook his head slightly trying to orientate himself outside of the morgue, he slowly stood up and walked to the water cooler and poured himself an algid drink of water. He stared at the cold, unfeeling, liquid for what seemed like hours, and the reflection staring back had developed tear tracks. He hadn't really cried over Sherlock's body when he had first seen him (It had been more of a strangled scream), but he supposed that it was denial. Sherlock never really seemed human, so, presumably, he couldn't die.
But dead he was.
And that was the surreal thing. This proved that Sherlock was indeed human, but at that point, he would have rather loved a machine Sherlock and have him alive, than a dead human one. He wondered if this was the universe's cruel way of fucking with him because he killed a few people in the army. Yeah, after tormenting him with endless nightmares, then giving him someone who made them stop, someone he could love, someone he could cherish. Someone he could trust. Just rip it out his hands; the universe wasn't even kind enough to kill John himself, it had to kill the one person that meant the most to him in the world…
Mycroft and Lestrade walked up behind John, sharing uneasy glances. "Hey, John, mate…I…I just want to-" Greg started but was sharply cut off by John. "No, Greg, fucking- just don't, ok? You too, Mycroft. Right now I really don't want to deal with anyone's bullshit; my best friend just-…" his voice gave way at the last word and he couldn't continue. Mycroft walked forward a little and placed a soothing hand on John's shoulder. "I was just going to say that you can take leave off your job, I'll pay your rent and bills for a while…" John chocked back a sob. "Thanks," he croaked, he walked away from the men back into the morgue, where Sherlock's body lay untouched on the slab. His fingers ghosted over the dead man sharp cheekbones, the blinding fluorescent lights making them look sharper than ever. It was odd; the build of Sherlock's body and face gave him an almost otherworldly beauty, like he was supposed to be born somewhere far away but god took pity on us and sent the detectives prominent exquisiteness to grace our unworthy and humble planet. That's how John saw it anyways.
Molly walked in a few minutes later to find John running his fingers through Sherlock's hair. "He used to love it when I did this…" John whispered, barely audible, "His hair was so sensitive that it made him shiver with pleasure every time a gentle hand even grazed it…" John looked down with vacant eyes at his bloodless lover and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. The doctor turned to face Molly. "Here to do the autopsy, I suppose?" He asked after clearing his throat. Molly replied a bit frightened, "Y-yes, I am… b-but if you need a few more minutes, John, I'd be more than happy to-!" "I was wondering if I could perform the postmortem." Molly looked even more terrified. "Um…Ok, I'll ask, but I'm sure Detective Inspector Lestrade can help make it happen, I'll call you tomorrow. But right now I need to prep the body for tonight…good night John," Molly looked terribly sad, and John knew that his welcome had just expired. "Good night, Molly…" but despite his feeble efforts, the night was not good at all.
After the door closed and the faint 'click click click' of shoes on tile faded, the dead detective jumped up. "Thank you Molly," he said briskly, securing the sheet/towel around his waist. "The shit I do for you, Sherlock Holmes," she said smacking him over the head, "THAT MAN IS DEVASTATED! AND NOW HE WON'T FIND YOUR BODY HERE TOMORROW, WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO TELL HIM!?" She shouted hysterically. He put both his hands on her shoulders, "Molly, listen very closely. Do. Not. Call. John. He won't be able to come tommorow anyways, I'll make sure of that. You need to go get out that cadaver look-a-like and preform the necropsy. We'll have the funeral and a few months after that, I'll be done." He said firmly kissing her faintly on the cheek. "Now, where's my coat?" He asked (more to himself) and walked out of the room to find it.
PHEW THAT WAS INTERESTING. As far as when I'll put lyrics, it'll probably just be at the beginning of every (or maybe every other, I'm not sure yet) chapter, maybe not one for specific chapters. I dunno *shrugs* I'm kinda new to song fics, I don't read them often and this is the first real song fic I've written… so what did you think!? I would love some reviews, I have not yet had my drugs *hissses at keybord* no new chapter until I get ONE review! So someone plz, help. Thank you so much for even looking at this fic, knowing that at least one person is staring at their screen waiting for an alert (or at least hoping there's at least one person) on my story is what really keeps me posting, I love you my little fluffieh bunnies! Chao, bella!
