My attempt at Johnlock – please don't hate. Also, spoiler warning for all those who have not yet watched S4.
**I DO NOT OWN!**
Sherlock had been told that emotions were simply things that held you back in life - feelings were to be avoided entirely. They were simple hindrances in many regards. Mycroft told him as such when he was young, and Sherlock took that meaning to heart. He held his mother and father in relatively close regard, and Mycroft he considered both an enemy and friend - and other than Mrs Hudson, there was no one else Sherlock held dear in his life.
He had found out young that the best way to keep others from having a sentimental attachment to him was to be as abrasive as possible. That girl over there? She is sleeping with her best friend's boyfriend. That boy over there? He's secretly gay and only dating that girl to get closer to her older brother. That teacher? He's so deep in debt from illegal gambling that he's taking secret pictures of teenage girls and selling them online to pay it all off. Not to mention the principal, who sold Marijuana to the students for a little money on the side.
Be sharp, cold, calculating, blunt, offensive - anything you have to be to keep others at bay. 'Sentiment' was a danger to him - avoid it at all costs.
Sherlock made the mistake of forgetting about that ideal life when he went to University, and he let someone in. He let someone past his walls and into his heart. And that someone reminded Sherlock why never letting someone in was best for him.
His first boyfriend got him hooked on drugs and sex, got Sherlock to ignore his brother and the rest of his family when they tried to help, got Sherlock to do all his school work for him - and cheated on him with someone else. This man, whose name Sherlock has deleted from his mind palace for many reasons, broke the young detective's heart, shattered his mentality, stomped on his soul and left him bare and wanting in an unforgiving world all on his own.
It was damn near impossible to pick himself back up - and only by the grace of Mrs Hudson while he was away in the States was he able to do it. It was why he held her as dear as his family - she saved him when not even his family could reach him.
Sherlock vowed to never open himself up to anyone again.
Meeting John Watson was what Sherlock equated to meeting fate - if only he knew it at the time.
At first, the attraction was as subtle as it was physical - Army doctor, invalided at home, psychosomatic limp, the real injury was likely somewhere else... maybe the shoulder? - and Sherlock found the way he regarded the detective intriguing. After all, Mike Stamford seemed to think they would make good flatmates, why else would John be brought to him just hours after talking about needing a flatmate?
He read the man's brother's drinking habits in his phone, and the fact that he wouldn't accept help meant that John probably didn't like his brother - weather for leaving his wife, or for being a drunk was unclear.
He proposed a meeting at the desired flat, gave his name and a wink, and left while silently berating himself for that last action. Why would he wink? Wasn't that a bit suggestive? Sure, Sherlock was gay, and every once in a while, he liked hooking up with random men for a quick tumble, but this was a man he was (potentially) going to live with. Not someone Sherlock was going to have sex with.
Bloody hell, he probably scared the man off now.
'Intrigue' was a very mild word for how Sherlock felt for the man named John Watson. John had complimented him on something most everyone had told him to 'piss off' over. John had thought it was amazing, of all things! And having a doctor following him around at murder scenes was good too, someone who could help with things Sherlock already knew and 'needed a second opinion on'.
(It was actually just to shut Anderson up because the bastard never shut up, but John didn't need to know that. (The extra complements were wonderful to hear as well.))
Add in the knowledge that John's estranged brother was actually his gay sister was even better - yeah, ok, he made a mistake and it may or may not have dampened things a little, but the fact that John was alright with his sister being gay meant that Sherlock would be accepted by the man for being gay as well.
The rest of the case went well, and even his brother made a show of introducing himself to John - likely to try to keep tabs on him, but John somehow wouldn't budge, even after the offer of money. Sherlock liked him more and more.
Dinner at Angelo's was a touch awkward by conversational standards, but at least Sherlock knew the other man was straight, and that meant that even if Sherlock did begin to like the man, he could stomp it out rather easily. The chase was wonderful, and fully proved that John didn't need a cane to walk - he just needed a good dose of adrenaline. Mrs Hudson walked over to them, telling them that the police were there in their flat and immediately, Sherlock burst up the steps, John not far behind. 'A drugs bust' his arse. But then the most wonderful and traitorous thing happened.
John stood by his side and showed a blind trust to Sherlock the detective had never had aimed his way before. He felt his heart flutter and his breath caught in his throat - then Sherlock got to watch the loyalty the doctor showed him so quickly be replaced with doubt and, heartbreakingly, disappointment. Because yes, Sherlock was a drug-addled arsehole once, and every now and again, he needed a little bit more than nicotine patches.
Sherlock couldn't focus on this right now though. There was a serial killer to catch.
Wait... no. That wasn't right.
There was a serial killer at his door, waiting for him.
Ok so maybe Sherlock was about to take that pill, just to find out if he won that round - if he outsmarted the killer. Or maybe he wasn't. He really wasn't sure...
(He was sure, but he wouldn't tell anyone.)
What he was sure about though, was that before he set foot off that crime scene, he had 100% fallen for John Watson.
(The man had shot a serial killer for him and saved his life - how was that not the hottest thing ever?!)
(Mycroft approved but warned him not to pursue anything. John was straight after all.)
Moriarty was a slimy bastard, there was no doubt of that in Sherlock's mind - but he did have his uses. John showed his loyalty yet again, literally throwing himself on the line of fire for Sherlock.
"Run, Sherlock!"
Sherlock discovered that day that he would do anything for John – including kill other people. Including kill himself. And he did just that a year later, falling from a rooftop just as he fell for John Watson.
Staying away from the one person he was in love with was so hard, especially when he heard John's 'last request'.
"Just one more miracle, Sherlock, can you do that for me? Just one. Don't. Be. Dead. Ok? Can you just do that for me?"
Sherlock allowed himself to torture his own mind and stayed while John cried. While John grieved. While John left. He even allowed Mycroft to see him at his most vulnerable – he cried as they left the graveyard.
Staying away from London, destroying different parts of Moriarty's web of evil, taking his time to help random detectives with cases if only so he wouldn't go mad, even resorting to killing a few of Moriarty's men who just wouldn't come willingly – all so John would be safe. He remained a ghost so the other could live a real life.
Coming back to London, Sherlock wasn't really sure what to find – though John being with someone wasn't it at all.
At first, Sherlock hated Mary. He had hoped she was just another failed attempt at love with John – but then he had proposed to her. And she said yes (The bitch). And ever since then, Sherlock has had to spend time with her – even if John wasn't there to buffer them.
And then she… Mary just… started to really grow on Sherlock. She was a kind and bountiful woman; a perfect match to John. And Sherlock started liking her. Not like he liked John – or even how he liked guys in general, but he did start liking her. He was genuinely happy for them, if not a little jealous. She got to John like no other person could. And Sherlock wished and wished and wished he could have John like she could, but he was happy for them both nonetheless.
He meant every word he said at their wedding. He knew John wouldn't see his confession of love, but one look at Mary and he knew she knew. But her smile said she was sympathetic, that she knew it was unrequited but real all the same – and she accepted it anyway. Because John loved her and would only ever see Sherlock as a friend. There was no malice or ill will behind the sentiment, but there wasn't pity either. Sherlock really wasn't sure what to make of it.
So, he just continued the speech, caught a killer, saved a man (ok that was more John's thing, but he helped.) and made a 'friend' of sorts. He played the violin like his very soul depended on it, figured out Mary was pregnant, and left early.
No, he didn't cry. Honestly.
Finding out Mary was a trained assassin was a hard thing to swallow – and he didn't marry her. He could only imagine the pain John was going through; even if he had been shot. The pain of discovering someone you trusted and loved betraying you so horribly – and John got that twice in his life; the first by Sherlock's 'death'.
He really isn't quite sure of the 'how' but they (together, Sherlock was happy to note) forgave Mary after a time. She was still carrying his child after all. Sherlock even killed a man for her. And suddenly they were a family. John and Mary and Rosie – and Sherlock felt a little out of place by the fact that there was suddenly a baby in his flat.
And then Mary ran away – for their sake, she said. They followed her, convinced her to come back…
And then, in the blink of an eye, just a twitch of a trigger finger…
Mary Watson was gone.
John refused all attempts Sherlock made at helping the man grieve again, he wouldn't even let him babysit when he needed time on his own. "Anyone but you." Molly had said John had told her. Sherlock and Mrs Hudson found Mary's DVD, sent to him upon her death, telling him to go to hell – for John. To find someone too big for him to take on alone and pick a fight. To fall back into his more horrible habits and all but kill himself – for John. That that was the only way to save the man they both loved.
He fell fast and willingly.
They were back at 221b Baker Street once all had been dealt with, the serial killer in jail, Sherlock recovering again. They were talking – or, John was. To what Sherlock sincerely hoped was a hallucination of Mary, telling her he cheated on her.
"Just texting – that's all it was. But I wanted more. Do you know when I was doing it? While you were taking care of Rosie – our daughter."
He broke down in tears then and there – crying like Sherlock had never seen before. Immediately he stood, walking the three steps to the man he loved and took him into his arms. He had dreamed of his moment for years, but he had never once thought it would hurt this much.
"It's ok." He soothed gently, cradling the back of the man's head.
"No, it's not!" John wailed back, and Sherlock nearly lost all composure there.
"No." he agreed quietly. "But it is what it is."
Sherlock would one hundred per cent kill a family member for John – and Mycroft knew it. So, he knew his older brother was just badgering him up to make killing Mycroft a little easier. So, Sherlock turned the gun on himself. His sister really didn't like that, but she ended their game early for it – sending them away to their old house and nearly drowning John for a 'game'.
Sherlock got there just in time. John was safe – Eros was detained, back in her cell but with the added bonus of Sherlock and Mycroft and their parents visiting once a week. Minimum. (He knew mum and dad came more than that.)
It was a full year later when John has moved in again, with Rosie, that Sherlock decided he was truly stupid.
He asked John out to dinner.
John said yes.
Thank you all for taking your time to read this! Love you all, and please R&R?