Little White Lie
by
Raining Sky Guy
"Cover me in your words, let me make a blanket out of your white lies, and hide beneath it. Let me find comfort in them."
"John, I…"
No one would have ever thought things would change so fast, after Magnussen finally went down with a bullet to the head. Suddenly a single man had both saved his world and committed high treason against his nation. There's this heavy, oppressive silence around them, as if the entire universe knew this was to be their final goodbye.
Sherlock Holmes, the only consultant detective in the world and currently the man that had violated the law one too many times, sighs almost grimacing as a thousand words cross his mind. He should think what is best for John, the lonely doctor scarred by war and saved by violence. He's so grim…maybe a bit of humor would be appreciated.
"Sherlock's actually-" A girl's name. He should have said. John was already arching his eyebrows, clearing asking him if he really was going to joke at this moment, right now. But a part of Sherlock agreed with him, so instead of a silly remark, his smile is wiped clean off his face as the words pour out of his lips in a messy jumble. "No, John, that's not-I have something else I would like to tell you. I believe I have grown to love you, and really, it was something I would not have thought possible but…"
John is gobsmacked. Well of course he is. The consultant detective starts to wonder if maybe he should have ended it with the joke, his own, weird feelings buried deep within. It's not like he was going to suffer much with unsaid words as he would be busy and probably dead at the end of the month (Mycroft may forever be the smarter one, but Sherlock had gotten better at reading him) all for killing Magnussen, so really it would have been better if…
"I'm sorry, John." The man with the curls says, regretting having ever decided on saying what he did. "My mistake, what I wanted to tell you… Sherlock's actually a girl's-"He can't quite finish this time either, as the desolate expression on John makes a tight knot on his throat.
.
An even more oppressive silence surrounds the men—even the wind seems to have settled down. The plane's engines sound so distant too. Sherlock can't even muster enough energy to admonish himself. He really should have gone with the joke, his own feelings be damned.
"Sherlock." John calls, voice about to break. "God, Sherlock, do you have any idea what you just…" He starts agitated but his voice soon dwindles into a whisper. "You're crazy. What sort of timing is this?" But then the doctor quiets down yet again, as if having realized something. "Sherlock. Sherlock, look at me."
It was then that Sherlock even noticed he had stopped looking at the blond in favor of the floor. He finds it a little hard to comply, but he supposes he could at least do this for John.
Ice-colored eyes look up and surprise overtakes the consultant detective at the way John's eyes flicker on and off his face, clearing his throat as if uncomfortable —head bobbing in that way only John had— but standing firm in place.
"I never would have expected the great Sherlock Holmes to feel that way about me." John chuckles slightly. He exhales, closing his eyes for just one moment before locking his even gaze to Sherlock's. "I love you too, Sherlock."
And when Sherlock smiles, mouth slightly parted and eyes so sad, John can't help but look away, ashamed.
They both know.
"Thank you, John." Sherlock is overwhelmed by love for this lying man. John looks up when he hears that before he lowers his head again, defeated. "I appreciate it."
"Sherlock, I-"
"I believe I must leave now. I wouldn't want to miss my flight, now would I?"
A pit of cold despair forms on John's stomach. If only he were a better actor.
"Take care, John." Sherlock whispers and John will be damned if he could not pick up the soft tone, the way his voice caressed his name.
The doctor doesn't know what he's doing anymore. He just knows he could do more than just lie. Even though they both know John is just playing pretend, he allows his body to reach out for Sherlock and Sherlock allows the caress on his cheek and decides to enjoy the raspy, plump lips on his for the briefest of seconds.
A last gift.
A last goodbye.
A little white lie.
Fin
AN. At first, I was going to have Sherlock believe John, and then having him return five minutes later and they'd have to deal with this— but Sherlock effing Holmes came to me and I was informed there was no way the great detective would be deceived just like that. So yeah, abrupt change of plans. I might make the aforementioned fic another day tho.
So what do you think of the story? And of the quote?
Also, think you could come with a better version of the quote above?
Do let me know what you think!