Thank God He's Breathing
by keisan (hazelcelt on tumblr)
Disclaimer: If I owned BBC Sherlock, you'd all know it. ;)
John wakes up a few days after the events of the Reichenbach Fall, thinking it was a horrible nightmare. The first few days he tossed and turned and then buried himself in his work at the hospital. It wasn't the same but he worked for 26 hours straight and as soon as he got home to 221 B Baker St, he collapsed on Sherlock's bed.
The morning was dewy and the sun was unusually bright. John opened his eyes slowly. He slowly stumbled out of bed scratching the back of his head and shaking the sleep away. He glanced at his phone to see if Sherlock had texted him. He didn't remember sleeping so deeply for so long. He walked into the living room and looked around. Nothing was amiss. The skull was still in its happy place on the mantle. The wallpaper was as obnoxious as ever. Sherlock was staring up at the ceiling probably thinking...
Wait.
"Sherlock! Sherlock?! What-but I-you DIED!" John stumbled as he ran over to the couch to embrace his best friend. Tears came unbidden down his cheeks and his shoulders shook as he clung to other man.
"John..." Sherlock said softly, sitting up as he wrapped his arms around his grieving friend.
"Why did you DO that?! Why?!" John cried.
"I'm sorry, John, there was no other way that wouldn't have ended in your death."
"So you decided your life was worth less?!"
"No, you mean so much to me, John, I couldn't have... You are everything," Sherlock said softly.
John pushed away from Sherlock and studied the other man, frowning softly. He finally shook his head and quietly admitted, "But you're everything to me. Stay. Don't EVER do that again."
Sherlock looked into a pair of watery brown eyes and nodded. He pulled John closer and kissed his forehead. John moved his face and gently kissed Sherlock's cheek. Sherlock gazed at the other man intensely before leaning in to kiss his lips. John parted his lips slowly and kissed back all he was worth. He wrapped his arms more tightly around Sherlock's back trying to always keep him with him, never letting go.
When they pulled back for air, they both smiled at one another. A secret smile that they shared and no one else's. Sherlock pulled John against him and they laid down on the couch.
"You know," said John, "We could always lie on the bed. It's much larger."
"The statistical improbability that you will allow me out of your reach for the five seconds it will take to get to the bedroom is exceedingly low. Besides, Mrs. Hudson is coming up in four minutes with tea and she will undoubtedly have a few choice words for me."
"She knows you're here?"
"Yes, I had to get the smelling salts for her when she fainted at my presence this morning. When she woke up she thought I was a ghost. Then she gave me a firm telling off about how upset she was and not to do that to her or you again," Sherlock replied.
John smiled tearfully. "You did, you know. It hurt when you did that. Don't do that again."
Sherlock pulled John close once again and smoothed his hair. John wondered if he would do something like that again, for someone he loved. But that meant that Sherlock loved John. John knew he loved Sherlock, ever since 'The Great Game'. John was Sherlock's one weakness and villains would probably continue to exploit it. John would hold on though. He wasn't going to let go of this amazing man that not many truly saw. They saw his genius, his skills of deduction, his sociopathy, his strange fixation of solving violent crimes... But they didn't see the man who would die for the one he loved most.
John sighed and bit his lip wanting to tell Sherlock. To let him know that it wasn't just him, that John loved him just as much.
"Sherlock..."
"I know, John."
"But I need to... I love you, Sherlock."
"I know," Sherlock smiled and kissed John. Neither glanced up when Mrs. Hudson came into the apartment with tea.
"Oh! I see... well, I'll just leave the tea. Carry on, dears!" she said as she hurried out the door.
The next morning John woke up entwined in Sherlock's long limbs on their bed, his heart was racing at first wondering if the day before was all a dream. He studied Sherlock's falling and rising chest for a few moments before settling and murmuring, "Thank god he's breathing."
Fin.