Coming to the information evening tonight? -SH
No point. Been accepted - told you this. -JW
John... -SH
I'll be a doctor. I'll be safe. -JW
Front line? Never safe. Please. -SH
I can't exactly afford medical school. I need this. -JW
[pause]
I can't afford to lose you. -SH
[pause]
I'm coming back. I want to see you. -JW
Sherlock sighed and texted his assent, not moving until he heard John push open the door to their dorm room.
"I thought you were going out with Greg and Sally." Sherlock called, by way of greeting. He shifted and sat up to allow John to sit on the sofa beside him.
"I was - you were also invited." He could hear the half-smile in John's voice, although he didn't turn and look to confirm that he was right.
"They don't mean it. I don't mind you going out; it's boring going with you."
"Everything's boring to you, Sherlock. You needed me more, anyway." Sherlock felt his presence, his voice, calming him, and allowed his dormmate turned kinda-sorta-boyfriend embrace him and press a kiss to his cheekbone. "I know you're worried, and I'm sorry." That was all John said, all he could say. He couldn't promise not to get shot.
Finally turning his head, to regard John solemnly, Sherlock wondered for the millionth time how he'd managed to capture the attention of one of the most brilliant men he'd ever met. Not just gorgeous, although God, he knows that, as did most of the girls in the year... but patient, kind, loyal - and, of course, the only person to ever stick with Sherlock long enough to become friends, let alone more.
John's phone chimed with an incoming text; it was child's play to know that it would be one of the group he had been planning to go out with. He sighed, fished it out of his pocket, and glanced at it, although he didn't respond.
"Sherlock... we should tell them. About us, I mean."
Sherlock froze. "You never wanted to do that. You always said-"
John cut him off, placing a finger on his lips before he could start quoting, probably word for word. "Yeah, I know. But Sherlock - you have to know I was never, and never will be, ashamed of you. Of being with you."
"You said it might jeopardise your army career." The words twisted themselves out of his mouth, snarled up like his stomach after John's proclamation.
He looked down, presenting the top of a blond head to Sherlock. "Yes, I did. It's not always kind to men like-" He frowned. "That doesn't mean I don't-" He paused, clearly gathering his thoughts. "They mostly know, I'm sure. But I want to be able to kiss you in public and not have to stop myself stroking your hair or taking your hand. I don't care any more, Sherlock, and I wish I never had."
Sherlock blinked, pulling John clumsily towards him. At first, he just pressed his head into John's collar bone, breathing in his smell, but after a few moments, he raised his head and met his lips. It was slow and deep, Sherlock trying to convey the turbulent emotions John had managed to invoke in him. He still remembered the first time they kissed - the first time Sherlock had ever kissed - and John had been confused and then inquisitive and then blindingly happy. "I love you. I love you and I'm scared for you and you don't have to."
John lifted a hand to cup his face, smiling softly. "I want to. And I want to say again - I know you hate repetition - it wasn't because I'm ashamed of you."
Sherlock swallowed, staring at him for a moment. "Come on then."
"Where?"
He smiled, leaning in to kiss John softly. "I don't know. Where were you going out?"
The expression on John's face was priceless. "You want to go out and socialise? Are you ill?"
Sherlock gave him his best wide-eyed stare, pouting as he did so. "You don't have to tell them now, but yes, I do. I don't think I could stand to have you away from me all evening, and it would be rude for you to not turn up." He was suddenly unsure; John's surprise had been comical, but...
John pulled himself to his feet. "Stop angsting - and please, stop giving me lessons on politeness." He grinned up at Sherlock, clasping his hand firmly in his own. "I'm not going to go back on what I said. Come on, you silly thing, let's go."
And even though John was still going to the army, still going to fight and be fought, shoot and be shot at, he kept Sherlock's hand firmly in his own. Even when they met Molly from Chemistry - who stood and stared, and then blushed and stammered, even when Sally snorted and Greg clapped them on the back, he didn't let go.