This story has been haunting me for two years, but I just couldn't write it down because it hurt so much.
Now, finally, it's done.
And I hope you enjoy it anyway.
Not beta-ed or brit-picked.
Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock nor its characters. The quotes are taken from BBC Sherlock Season 1, Episode 03: The Great Game.
Sherlock Holmes had never expected to find himself falling in love when he'd started looking for a flatmate.
It had been an act of convenience, to get rid of his brother's meddling and his mother's endless concerns about him living alone.
Of course she'd been hoping him to finally find a nice wife and settle down, but Sherlock hadn't even considered the possibility that he might actually like his new flatmate.
When Sherlock had mentioned looking for a flatmate in front of Mike Stamford in order to "be able to afford a flat in the centre of London" (a ruse, he could easily afford it on his own), he hadn't thought the man was actually listening and taking him seriously.
So when Mike had come back from his break with an old friend, Sherlock had found himself unwillingly needing to keep up the charade.
And what a luck that had been.
John was not only the most accommodating man Sherlock had ever met, he was also the first one to ever be interested, really interested, in Sherlock's work.
His occupancy fit Sherlock's needs as if it was by design and by the end of the day Sherlock had found himself wanting for John to move in.
So he had taken him to Angelo's to get rid of that interfering limp.
He hadn't predicted John hitting on him - and to his humiliation, he hadn't reacted in a way that he'd usually have.
But luckily, they had gotten over that quite quickly and John had moved in with him.
Now, about two months after, Sherlock found himself dumbfounded.
He had fallen in love with his blogger in such a short amount of time.
How?
John filled a void that Sherlock hadn't even known of that it was there.
He liked their easy way of living together, how they both craved the danger of the chase and he couldn't think of a time in his life when he'd ever been so happy before.
Sherlock could already feel the rising panic when he just thought about John leaving.
And even worse, they had almost kissed yesterday.
Yes, almost.
They had almost been there.
Their eyes locked, their lips just a breath apart, just a few seconds away from a vital step in their relationship, when Sherlock's phone had interrupted them.
Mycroft. Just in time to save his brother's virtue.
Now here he was. In limbo between friendship and romantic relationship and not knowing where to go.
Sherlock got up from the sofa.
It was no use.
He had to talk to John. Now.
"John", he called.
No answer.
Louder. "John!"
Still no answer. Where was John?
Sherlock wandered through the flat looking through every room.
He even knocked at John's bedroom door, although he knew that the dear doctor never used his room during the day.
When he'd went through the whole flat and couldn't find him, Sherlock pulled out his phone.
Where are you? SH
It took John a few minutes to answer that Sherlock spend pacing up and down, trying to remember if John had mentioned anything about leaving the flat.
Date. JW
Sherlock stared at his phone screen.
A date?!
Now of all times? After what almost happened yesterday?
He froze. Maybe he'd imagined it. Maybe John didn't even notice what was happening between them.
Maybe … John was even dumber than he had expected.
Come back right now, I need you. SH
What for? JW
It's important. SH
Fine. I'll be back in 10. JW
Sherlock could almost hear the sigh in John's words but he grinned.
John always came home to Sherlock, no matter what.
Even if it meant leaving behind his date.
The detective dropped his phone onto the table and sat back down.
Now he had to wait.
He could feel the anxiety crawling up his spine with every passing minute.
Why couldn't John get here faster?
Then finally, he heard the front door open and close and quick steps on the stairs.
"Sherlock? What is it, what is so -"
That was as far as he came because Sherlock had crossed the room, pushed John against the wall and silenced him with a kiss.
He could feel John's stiff body against his for a moment before it slowly started to relax and melt into his, John kissing him back.
He couldn't help the smile on his lips as he deepened the kiss and heard a small moan coming from John.
He used that moment to push his tongue past the doctor's lips into his mouth and started thoroughly exploring the cavern.
When he finally pulled back, he gave John's lips a last parting lick and then looked down at John, who was leaning against the wall and panting heavily.
"What – the hell – was that, Sherlock?"
"That, John, was a kiss."
John snorted. "I know that that was a – kiss. But why did you kiss me?"
"Because I wanted to."
"Right, because you - " He stopped and looked up at Sherlock. "You wanted to kiss me?"
"That's what I said, you know how I hate repeating myself."
"But … why?"
"Because … " Sherlock blushed. Now or never. "Because I like you. And I've wanted to do that for quite some time already. I almost kissed you yesterday and when you just told me that you went on a date after that I snapped and … John, please. Say something."
"You like me? Honestly?"
"Yes."
Suddenly a bright smile appeared on John's face.
"Finally you got it, you great git."
And he pulled Sherlock down by the lapels and kissed him deeply.
The few days since then had been the best in Sherlock's whole life.
He had never been as radiant, as brilliant as now.
His mind worked faster than ever and his heart lept everytime it looked at John and saw the same glee in his eyes that Sherlock felt himself.
John was the perfect conductor of light, his best friend and his lover.
And on top of all that there had been a huge serial case.
A bomber giving him puzzles. Moriarty.
Now, finally, they were down to the last pip and Sherlock was entering the pool to meet his adversary.
He stepped inside slowly, looking around calmly, and lifted the memory stick.
"Brought you a little getting-to-know-you present. That's what it's all been for, hasn't it? All your little puzzles, making me dance. All to distract me from this."
He turned around, then he heard a door opening behind him. He quickly turned his head and looked over his shoulder – and froze.
"Evening."
Sherlock couldn't move. He just stood there, staring at John. He couldn't believe it.
"This is a turn-up, isn't it, Sherlock?"
John was standing there, hands in his pockets, talking to Sherlock. Not moving. A small smile on his lips.
But this wasn't the loving John Watson Sherlock knew.
What was going on here?
"Bet you never saw this coming."
Slowly, Sherlock found he could turn around and started taking shaky steps towards the man he knew as Doctor John Hamish Watson.
"John … "
"Yes, it's me. John Watson. Your nice, normal flatmate. The army doctor. Your lover." At that moment he smiled properly and raised an eyebrow. "Well that's at least one part of me. Moriarty is the other."
Sherlock looked into John's eyes and felt himself falling. He couldn't believe it. Didn't want to.
But despite his stubborn wish for something, anything to turn up and explain this, he could almost hear his heart cracking and the walls around him were starting to crumble.
"You know, Sherlock, I didn't think it would be so easy. When I met you in my, well", another smile, "civil persona, I didn't even hope you'd actually take me for your flatmate. I had expected you to see right through my little facad. But you didn't see anything except nice little John Watson, did you?"
Sherlock didn't provide an answer and John didn't seem to expect one.
"I've been dying to meet you for years already, ever since little Carl Powers.
It was really clever to figure out it wasn't an accident when no one even suspected anything, I have to give you that.
So imagine my suprise when I found out old Mike Stamford knew the great Sherlock Holmes.
It was a chance I couldn't let pass so I took it and stepped onto the stage.
And it was so easy. Gaining your trust, becoming your friend. Giving you what you needed by letting you cure my 'limp' and then saving you from the man I had hired myself.
Really, Sherlock, it was too easy."
John smiled at him.
And it was that John Watson smile, that Sherlock knew, but the words coming from his mouth were all wrong.
"But I can't deny I didn't have fun. Because I did. Our little game.
And then of course you went and fell in love with me.
No no, don't look like that. Of course I knew.
And I knew I could make you take that last step and start a relationship with me, against everything you believed.
So I went on that last date after our almost-kiss and there you were.
Practically on your knees in front of me, begging."
He started walking towards Sherlock. Slowly. Confident. As if he wasn't just destroying Sherlock's whole world with his words. And still smiling. And that smile was what hurt the most.
John was standing directly in front of him now and lifted his hand to cup his cheek softly, just like he'd done this morning when they'd been lying in bed. When everything had still been alright.
"But I can't let you continue, my love. I really can't. You're in my way." He said with a soft sigh in his voice.
Sherlock's voice was back. And it was cold as ice. "So what, you're going to kill me?"
"No, don't be obvious. Of course I'm not going to kill you. You are going to help me." He said it with such confidence that Sherlock wanted to pull away in disgust.
"And why would I do that?" He kept his tone even. Calm even though he wasn't.
John smiled. "Because you get off on it, my dear. It's our little game. You loved it – and you love me.
And I know how bored you were. With me, you'll never be bored again.
It'll be just like it used to be, the two of us against the rest of the world.
You're just a bit … changing places. You won't be chasing. You'll be the one they chase but never reach.
There isn't anything more exciting than that."
"People have died."
John shrugged. "That's what people do, Sherlock. So you can either join me or join them."
He pecked Sherlock on the lips and took a step back.
"You know how to reach me when you've decided."
He smiled and turned around, walking back to the door.
"I can't wait to hear from you, love!"
And then he left without another word, taking Sherlock's broken heart with him.
And everything around him collapsed.