This can be read as stand-alone or along with my other Teenlock stories.
Well, enjoy!
Sherlock sighed contentedly and snuggled further back into John's arms, his back against the firm chest behind him. They were sitting on Sherlock's sofa watching crap telly on a lazy Friday afternoon and Sherlock was completely at ease. It was such a rare occurrence that it brought a lazy smile to his lips. His boyfriend's strong arms were around him, they had the house to themselves, and they finished a serious snogging session just a few minutes ago—nothing could make this day any better.
But, Sherlock noted, John's heart was beating a little faster than usual. He had attributed it to their kisses at first, but enough time passed for John's breathing and heartbeat to become regular again. Was something wrong? Was John getting sick? He had been fine all day…
"John?"
"Hm?" John hummed from behind him.
"Do you feel all right?"
"What? Yeah. Why do you ask?"
"Your heart is beating rather quickly. I can feel it against my back."
John's arms tightened around Sherlock. "Well, I feel fine."
"Then something is bothering you."
"Not really."
Sherlock rolled his eyes. He adored John, but he was a terrible liar.
Sherlock squirmed in the embrace so he could face John, their noses inches apart. "Do you really think you can lie to me, of all people?"
John's face was in a calm mask, but he swallowed nervously.
Of course, Sherlock saw it. "John, tell me."
"Nothing's bothering me, Sherlock." He cleared his throat.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "You have no physical ailment. Something must be on your mind. There's no other reason for you to be uneasy. Nothing happened at school today to make you uncomfortable, so it must be an outside source."
John shoved Sherlock off his chest. "You know I hate when you deduce me, Sherlock."
Sherlock pouted, a tad hurt. John never shoved him like that. "You used to like it."
"Yeah, but that was three years ago. It gets a little old," he scowled.
Sherlock was really hurt now. His deductions got on John's nerves at times, he knew this, but John never got angry like this. Anxiety bloomed in the pit of Sherlock's stomach. Something must be really wrong, but what? John always told him everything. What was he hiding?
John must have seen that Sherlock was freaking out because he sighed and said, "I'm sorry, Sherlock. I shouldn't have pushed you. Or said that. You know I think you're brilliant." He held out his arms. "Come here."
Sherlock crawled into John's lap and wrapped his arms tightly around his stocky torso.
"Is it me?"
"Not at all," he assured gently.
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely. It's nothing you did, Sherlock."
"Is it Harry?"
"Not this time."
"Is it Anderson?"
John laughed. "He only irritates you, Sherlock."
"It isn't my fault he's an idiot. Is it someone else at school?"
"No. It really doesn't have to do with anyone. Just forget it, Sherlock. It's nothing."
"No, it isn't."
"Yes, it is."
"Even if it's nothing, I want to know what's upsetting you."
"I'm not upset."
"John."
John sighed and averted Sherlock's intense gaze.
Sherlock frowned. "Please tell me what's wrong," he lifted John's hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles softly. "Please. I don't like seeing you like this, John."
John was silent for a few minutes, rubbing Sherlock's back soothingly with his left hand absentmindedly.
Sherlock rested his head on John's chest. His heartbeat was still too fast.
"Before you freak out," John spoke quietly, "remember that this is only an idea. I might not do it. I probably won't."
Sherlock nodded, bracing himself for whatever John had in store.
John took a deep breath and released it slowly. "I…I'm thinking about joining the army."
Nothing in the world could have prepared Sherlock for that. He didn't breathe. He didn't feel. He didn't think. Everything was blank. There was no way John just said that. No. That's preposterous.
After who-knows how long, he registered that John was shaking him lightly. "Sherlock? Sherlock?"
Sherlock realized that he went too long without breathing and he felt his lungs burn. He sucked in a deep breath and sat up abruptly, nearly falling off the sofa in the process.
John was looking at him sadly. "Sherlock, nothing is set in stone—"
"Why?!" Sherlock demanded, standing up and balling his hands into fists. "Why, in the name of God, would you want to do that?!" Sherlock cut off John before he could respond, "Out of all the stupid things…you want to do that?"
" 'Stupid'?" John cocked his head to the side. "You think it's stupid?"
"Yes!" he shouted. "Why risk your life? There's no point!" This can't be happening. John couldn't go off to war. John couldn't die.
John's lip twitched. "I want to help people, Sherlock."
"By running around in some God-forsaken desert in the Middle East?!"
"By helping wounded soldiers!" John stood and raised his chin, glaring at Sherlock. "Is it so hard for your massive brain to wrap around the idea of helping people?!"
"But…" The anger was dying down now and fading into the despair at the core of his thoughts. "You want to be a doctor. You want to be a doctor so you can help people. Why suddenly change plans?"
John's voice was a little calmer. "Ever heard of an army doctor?"
Fear was gnawing away at Sherlock, consuming him. "But…I…John…"
"If helping others means risking my life," he shrugged, "then so be it."
Sherlock felt like his heart was just violently ripped out. His throat felt strangely tight and his voice cracked when he spoke, "John…you…but I would miss you terribly." He blinked back tears. No, John mustn't see him cry. He mustn't be so pathetic.
John went from being irritated at Sherlock's ignorance to feeling guilty. "I would miss you, too…" His eyes widened when he saw his boyfriend's light eyes glistening. "Oh, Sherlock." Dear God, what had he done? He reached forward hugged Sherlock tightly. "Please don't cry, love."
Sherlock's self-control was quickly dissolving. "John," Sherlock whispered brokenly into John's hair, "please don't do it. I would support you if you did, but...God, John, what would I do without you? I need you."
And if that didn't convince John, nothing ever would. Sherlock never spoke that openly (except the time he was on anesthesia). He made his Sherlock cry. How could he have been so foolish?
John kissed Sherlock deeply, trying to convey all he couldn't say. While he was better at talking about his feelings than Sherlock, it still wasn't exactly his area of expertise. John felt his eyes stringing when he felt another tear roll down Sherlock's cheek. John kissed him harder.
Now that he really thought about it, John couldn't ever leave Sherlock like that. He knew Sherlock would panic every day he was gone. Hell, Sherlock totally panicked the day John stayed home from school with a cold. How would he react if John were in the military? He imagined how Sherlock would react if he died overseas. The image of Sherlock sobbing flashed behind John's eyes.
What was I thinking? I could never do that to him!
John gently licked his way into Sherlock's mouth but explored only briefly. Neither had a desire to make the kiss erotic. They just wanted intimacy. Their lips slid together gently and their bodies were as tightly against each other as possible.
Sherlock pulled back and pressed a chaste, close-mouthed kiss to John's lips one last time before burying his face in John's neck. He inhaled John's scent and held him to his chest.
John squeezed him tightly. "I'm so sorry, honey. I should have never brought it up. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking." John buried his head in Sherlock's lean chest, nuzzling into the fabric of his T-shirt.
Sherlock sniffed, some of his anxiety fading. "Did you just call me 'honey'?"
John laughed into his collarbone. "Sorry, it just slipped out."
"No, it's…fine."
John looked up at Sherlock with a warm smile. Sherlock's eyes were a little red from crying, but he was smiling, too. "My Sherlock," he cupped his cheek.
"My John," he mirrored John's action.
The sound of the front door opening followed by the sound of muffled talking grabbed their attention.
Sherlock groaned. "Mummy and Daddy are home."
John snorted, "Don't sound so disappointed."
"I like to have you to myself."
"They leave us alone quite a bit. It's not like they interrupt every five seconds like my parents."
Sherlock laughed. He liked John's parents and they liked him. John's mother was sweet and John's father was sincere, but they did seem to love barging in John's room every time they started kissing.
John kissed Sherlock's cheek. "You know, I could never leave you alone. You might burn down all of London without me monitoring you."
Sherlock giggled, "True." His smile faltered a little. "Will you really not go, John?"
John's expression was still warm, but his eyes were serious. "I won't leave you, Sherlock. Okay? I promise."
Sherlock nodded, smiling widely. "Okay."
That was the first promise to Sherlock Holmes that John Watson would ever break.
Ooo, ambiguous ending.
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