Again with the prompts :)
This was the same prompt, but done twice at different stages of John and Sherlocks relationship.
Warning for slightly graphic gay sex.
Disclaimer: Character's aren't mine.
Letting Go - past
Sherlock pushed John roughly against his bedroom door, lips pressed together harshly as desperation tinged every moment they made.
Even though Sherlock had known it was coming, he'd been unable to actually prepare himself for the hurt and pain that assaulted him at John's announcement two weeks ago.
"I've asked Sarah to marry me. She's pregnant and I can't make her look after the baby alone." John had said as he sat across Sherlock at their restaurant, the lights of passing cars shinning in through the window and winked in a mocking may off the crockery.
"I see." What else could Sherlock say?
John let out a low moan as Sherlock pulled off his shirt before pushing him into the room and down onto the bed.
"You know, they have many programs and support groups for single mother's these days. It's the 21st century, not the Victorian Era." Sherlock couldn't keep some of the bite from his words.
"I know that. But, well, I know I can grow to love Sarah and I've always wanted a family." John countered, truing to keep his temper under control.
"There is adoption and many other ways to obtain a child, John." Sherlock snorted.
"See, there's the problem Sherlock. You don't want kids and I'm not going to raise one by myself." John got to his feet furiously, the tight seal he had on his temper breaking.
"I'm going to marry Sarah and we will have this child and maybe more together. We're moving out of London, to the country where our kid can grow-up with fresh air. If you can't support me in this then it's best you stay away." With that John swept out of the restaurant, leaving Sherlock alone at the table.
That had been two weeks ago. They rushed to remove the remainder of their clothing, only stopping to lock eyes once they were completely nude. Flesh against flesh, heartbeat against heartbeat, soul against soul.
Tonight John had shown up on their doorstep – now only Sherlock's doorstep. As soon as they'd reached the privacy of their own flat – Sherlock's flat – Sherlock had taken John's hand and led him towards Sherlock's bedroom – no words were exchanged at all.
That was how they'd ended up on the bed, naked and bare to one another.
Sherlock leaned back down and kissed John again, though this time it was slow and conveyed everything John needed to hear.
'I missed you.'
Reaching up, John cupped Sherlock's cheek, his eyes talking for him.
'I'm sorry.'
Sherlock tried not to allow the burning tears in his eyes to fall as he went back to kissing John's throat as his hands worked their way down the smaller man's body, tracing and memorising every dip and scare – committing the body below him to memory as a bitter part of him snarled that he'd once thought such an action would be unnecessary. He'd once believed he'd never have to worry about a time where John wasn't a hairs-breath away…
As Sherlock worked John open for him, he felt a tragic acceptance for what was to come slowly fill him. Pushing inside of John with as much gentleness and care as he had done the very first time, Sherlock silently told John he'd let him go.
The breathless sigh that escaped from John's throat showed his gratitude.
'Thank you.'
Sherlock thrust into the willing and trusting man below him and if they both allowed their tears to fall and mix in with the sweat of their lovemaking, neither of them would ever say.
As they both came at the same time, hands grasped tightly and fingers intertwined, only three words passed between them.
'I love you.'
Later, when they'd crashed back down to earth and harsh realities, John stood silently dressing, Sherlock opting to remain on the now soiled bed sheets.
"I'll see you later Sherlock, yeah?"
Even though it was phrased as a question, once again both heard what was really being said.
John stood looking at Sherlock on the bed for a moment longer than necessary before turning and walking out the door, out of the flat and out of his life.
Only one word remained unsaid between them.
'Goodbye.'
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