Ok, so I didn't know where this one was heading when I started tapping it out – apologies, it just seemed to go on and on and on!
Thank you SO MUCH for all my lovely reviews lately on "Psychosomatics" and "Archaic Anger" I love them all and consequently – you all!
So here goes; as usual my pretties I do not own a thing or claim to own a thing – this is just fun.
MEANT TO BE
Sherlock stood in the dark room at the foot of his flatmate's bed. The Consulting Detective wore his usual loungewear attire, consisting of grey t-shirt and bottoms covered only slightly by a silk blue dressing gown. He tilted his head to the side to collate the data he was viewing and was surprised to see that it interested him enough to want to experiment.
He observed the way his flatmates' arms met neatly around his latest female conquest as they slept. He found the way that John's bare chest pressed against her spine fascinating and he allowed his hawk-like eyes to examine the way that he breathed against her neck; this – surprisingly - made him wonder what it felt like to be her at this moment in time. Obviously the care and attention John had taken to make her comfortable had gone unobserved as she was clearly out for the count.
Sherlock stayed for a further half hour before deciding to leave them sleeping – it was obvious that John would not wake to go on a case with him just now.
000
Coming back to 221B in the early morning sun was always a treat for the youngest Holmes, especially with the euphoria of finishing a particularly tricky case and punching Anderson square in the nose to celebrate.
Sherlock stopped in his tracks as an unusual thought crossed the forefront of his amazing mind; the sudden desire to share his success with his good friend and flatmate – John Watson.
The man he had stood watching for a full two hours a few days prior.
By the time the detective had entered their flat and ascended the stairs, his coat, scarf and gloves had been removed and he had ascertained the absence of any female in their flat. By the time he had dropped the items off and ascended the further stairs to his sleeping flatmates' room; his shirt buttons and shoes had been undone. By the time Sherlock reached John's bedside, his socks, shirt and trousers had reached the floorboards.
Thinking no more than on experimentation levels; Sherlock carefully lifted one corner of the duvet and slipped underneath, his back to John as he lay down.
With a little nudge from Sherlock's leg into John's, the physician rolled over in his sleep and slung an arm between his flatmate's arm and chest unknowingly.
Sherlock's heart began to hammer in his ribcage as he allowed himself to burrow his back into John's chest.
A shiver passed through Sherlock's spine as he felt John's light breathing brush the dark curls at the base of his neck and he pulled the duvet closer to him to cut out the chill.
Sherlock felt John's arm contract around his chest as he pulled the detective closer. Sherlock's senses were bursting with data, all of which confused him.
The younger of the two men knew John was in the process of waking up and he was helpless, only awaiting the inevitable confusion, panic, shouting, and general unrest that his presence in John's arms would cause.
Much to his surprise, John did none of the expected actions upon waking.
"Are you ok, Sher'k?" John mumbled sleepily.
Sherlock could only bring himself to nod numbly.
"You tired?" John asked sleepily.
Sherlock only nodded again in response.
To which, John only wrapped his arm tighter across his flatmate's chest and burrowed his nose into the base of Sherlock's neck.
"Good, 'cos I'm going back to sleep" John said with a yawn.
Sherlock smiled widely as he allowed himself to relax into John's embrace, again, the experiment results were more positive than he expected as he felt his eye lids begin to droop.
000
Waking up, Sherlock was first aware that it was warm, but dark.
Without opening his eyes, he allowed his limbs to observe his current position.
His left leg was resting against something equally warm and smooth, with a slight dusting of hair whilst his right leg was spread down opposite, only in contact with a warm material. His arms were currently tucked in to his chest and the front, top half of his body was pressed up against a warm and smooth and breathing object. Like skin. Like John's skin.
Sherlock's grey eyes snapped open and his eyelashes came into contact with the skin of John's neck.
The doctor giggled slightly at the tickling sensation – resulting in Sherlock bouncing lightly against his chest.
Sherlock pulled away to enable him to look up at his tousle haired flatmate, currently laying with a book in his left hand, his right arm tucked around the younger man presently laying atop his chest.
"So, what's this about then?" John asked with a kindly smile.
"I – I was tired" Sherlock answered groggily.
"And your own room was unsatisfactory?" John probed lightly, that smile still playing about his lips.
"I, I saw…the other morning – I came in to ask you to come with me on a case…you were sleeping. And there was a female -" Sherlock started, but quickly lowered his head to bury his face in John's neck.
"You were jealous?" John asked incredulously.
"Not jealous" Sherlock mumbled into John's skin.
"Then what made you do this?" John asked lightly.
"I wanted to know what it felt like" Sherlock said calmly, inhaling John's natural scent as he did.
"With me in particular? Or did you pretend I was her?" John offered quietly.
"With you" Sherlock said abruptly.
"So it was jealousy" John murmured dropping his book to the floor and placing his left hand on the base of Sherlock's neck.
Changing the subject, Sherlock moved away again to hoist himself up on an arm above John, the doctors' hands remained in place as he looked up at his flatmate.
"Does it bother you if I were?" Sherlock asked with narrowed eyes.
"No, just surprises me is all" John said truthfully.
"It doesn't repulse you?" Sherlock offered.
"Not at all, I like sleeping next to someone, it makes me sleep better" John said with a shrug.
"So I can do this again and you wouldn't push me away?" Sherlock asked accusingly.
"Sherlock, shut up and lie back down." John ordered, putting pressure on Sherlock's back and neck to pull him back down to him.
000
A couple of weeks passed since that Sunday mornings' events, and the two men had slept in separate rooms, behaving for all the world like nothing had changed.
To no-ones' surprise, a case made John drop a week of the clinics' work in order to assist Sherlock.
The case was a complex one involving localised gangs. Sherlock and John were working undercover, disguised as young troublemaking males'.
On the final night when the case had grown arms and legs in the way of drug and illegal immigrant smuggling; one of the gang members had called on Sherlock. Recognising him from the newspapers and aiming a weapon or two toward the two men threateningly.
John had jumped in front of the consulting detective before the MET had managed to burst through every door at once and contain every criminal within the warehouse.
Luckily, there was no time for trigger pulling; the consulting detective and physician escaped unscathed.
Landing heavily on the floor from adrenaline overload, John sat back against Sherlock's leg as the officers filled the riot vans with youths.
"You are the luckiest men in all of London" Greg said with a laugh as he looked down at John with a smile.
Sherlock clenched his jaw and only nodded affirmatively.
Once the building had cleared and the vans had packed up heading for the cells; Sherlock looked down at John with unleashed rage.
Bending down, Sherlock grabbed fistfuls of John's black jacket and hoisted him roughly to his feet, turning him and pushing him forcefully into the corrugated wall beside them.
"Sherlock – what -?" John exclaimed as his eyes widened at the anger written on his colleague's face.
"Don't you ever do that again, John Watson" Sherlock growled fiercely as he narrowed his cold eyes at the shorter man.
"Do what? Sherlock – I was saving - " John attempted, worried now about the knuckles of his flatmate turning white with his hold.
"My life is not worth more than yours, John. You'd do well to remember that. Do not ever do that again. Do you understand me Doctor?" Sherlock hissed viciously, now pressing John harder into the wall.
"Y-yes, I understand" John stammered weakly.
There was a moment's pause as Sherlock's face returned to its usual demeanour and his wolf like eyes travelled the length of his best friends face, lingering on his lips and flickering back to his dark eyes.
Without warning, Sherlock lunged forward the centimetres between them and firmly planted his mouth upon the older mans'.
Allowing his hands to unclench, Sherlock let them travel to John's sides, gently taking hold of him, keeping him in position as he pushed himself forward against the shorter man.
John realised with some ease that Sherlock was displaying worry and fear in his actions, not anger and hatred. Realising this had made him relax – reassuring Sherlock by kissing him back tenderly.
When the two broke apart, Sherlock surveyed John's face dubiously.
"I don't know what's happening to me" Sherlock said weakly.
John's heart melted at the vulnerability Sherlock currently displayed and he immediately lifted his own arms to encircle the taller man's neck.
"I think I know" John said gently, nudging Sherlock's nose with his own.
At this action, Sherlock took a steadying breath, forcing himself not to push back onto the soldier.
"What is it?" Sherlock whispered his breath ghosting over John's lips.
"Sentiment" John muttered with a slight smile.
"This is more than sentiment, John. this is…uncontrollable" Sherlock said faintly.
"Love is a form of sentiment" John whispered as he pecked Sherlock's bow shaped lips with his own.
"Love?" Sherlock asked disbelievingly, his hands tightening slightly on John's hips.
"Do you have a desire to keep me close?" John asked, leaning back against the wall.
Sherlock nodded.
"Do you feel sad, angry or frustrated when I go on dates?" John asked tentatively.
Sherlock looked toward the floor for a moment before nodding affirmatively.
"Do you have urges to touch me?" John asked patiently.
"All the time" Sherlock whispered faintly, looking back to John's lips.
John smiled. "Then you, Sherlock Holmes, are in love".
"It's not funny, John" Sherlock scolded, his hands clenching into John's hips now.
"Oh I know that." John said teasingly "What is funny though, is that I have felt the same about you since Irene Adler showed up" the doctor laughed lightly.
"You have?" Sherlock asked in surprise.
"Yep, ever since you stumbled on that sentence in her living room. She made you flustered. It made me jealous" John explained disjointedly.
At this Sherlock barked out a laugh that surprised them both.
"I wasn't attracted to her!" Sherlock laughed out as he looked down at his doctor with a fondness rarely seen by any individual. "I was flustered because I didn't like the way you were looking at her" he said gently, running a thumb over the cotton shirt John was wearing.
At this John burst into laughter himself and looked up at Sherlock in disbelief.
"What a pair of idiots!" John said in a laugh.
Suddenly, Sherlock regained composure as a thought came to him.
"But why did you pursue women if you, felt for me?" Sherlock asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I thought you were 'married to your work' and I tried to get over what I thought was a crush because I thought you would never return my feelings" John explained. "I can't believe you didn't notice that all of my girlfriends looked as similar as possible to you".
Sherlock's photographic memory flashed before his eyes – he ran through the images comparing each female with the next; they all had curly dark hair, they were all taller than John, they were generally well structured and slender with bright blue eyes.
John smiled as he saw the look of realisation cross his friends' face.
"Well this is all very nice isn't it?" Came a well known English drawl from the shadows. "Heart warming" the voice added.
Sherlock bent his head and allowed his forehead to come into contact with the iron wall above John's head.
"Mycroft" the younger Holmes' warned.
"Very touching, Sherlock. I didn't think you had it in you." Mycroft explained as he walked out from the shadows to stand a few yards from them.
John looked awkwardly between the two brothers for a moment or two before gently pushing Sherlock from him.
"I'll wait outside" John murmured as he slipped out of the door.
"What do you want, Mycroft?" Sherlock asked in frustration.
"To give you the talk about the 'birds and the bees' dear brother. As far as I recall, you haven't had that explained to you yet." Mycroft teased.
"I knew the foundation of DNA before I was eleven, Mycroft, human reproduction is not something I have no knowledge of." Sherlock said as he surveyed his older brother.
"Well, this isn't reproduction is it? This is different on every level." Mycroft said slowly.
"What are you here for" Sherlock demanded.
"A case of the highest-" Mycroft's usual phrase was interrupted by a whip crack of a bullet leaving a gun just outside the warehouse.
Sherlock felt sick as he looked toward the door, he felt too slow as he started to run toward it, tears already leaked from his eyes in fear as he ran straight for the two bodies that lay on the dark and dirty ground.
"John!" Sherlock shouted as he spotted the blonde haired doctor, immobile on the ground.
Much to the detective's surprise he heard Mycroft running behind him.
"He's dead" Mycroft panted as he stood beside the other man.
"John!" Sherlock shouted as he landed on the floor beside his flatmate. His hand flew out to the doctors' face, checking for a pulse.
"Lydia, Ambulance please, to the docklands – warehouse number 9. Immediately." Mycroft said quietly into his mobile phone – all emotion absent as he surveyed his brother holding the soldier tightly.
"Lydia, her name was Lydia" John coughed weakly as his eyes opened one after the other. "She didn't tell me her name" John said in a laugh as he looked up at the detective currently holding his head up from the ground.
Sherlock sent a puff of steam into the atmosphere as he sighed in relief.
"John, are you hurt?" he asked hastily.
"Broken rib I would say" John mused with a wince. "Possibly two"
Sherlock smiled before looking up toward the other body. "What happened?" he asked, sitting back on his heels and allowing John's head to rest in his lap.
"Illusive gang member" John said weakly, licking at the blood that had spilt from his bottom lip. "Appeared out of nowhere, we fought, I shot him" John explained.
"Good shot" Sherlock praised as the ambulance siren echoed around their surroundings.
000
Once John had been released from hospital, Sherlock hailed a cab and the pair headed for 221B in silence.
"What did Mycroft want?" John questioned curiously as Sherlock closed the front door behind them.
"Oh, the usual case of highest national security, yada yada yada" Sherlock dismissed.
John smiled "So you didn't take it?"
"Oh no, I solved it" Sherlock said with raised eyebrows as he passed the soldier and headed up the staircase to their living room.
John started to laugh lightly but stopped abruptly when he realised that it hurt to do so.
Sherlock turned to John when he heard the sharp intake of breath that usually meant a soldier expressing pain.
"Do you need-?" Sherlock asked, leaving his sentence unfinished as he was sure John would not like him to ask the full question.
"Nope, nope, I just need to be careful" John said attempting to climb the stairs.
Sherlock waited at the top to ensure John made it safely.
"Nasty things, broken ribs. Affects every movement the body makes" John said lightly as he focussed on making it to the top of the stairs.
"Well it's a good job you are only using these stairs tonight" Sherlock said with a smile.
"Sherlock, there's another set to my room" John stated dully.
"Yes, but you will not need to use those" Sherlock countered, taking hold of John's arm to help him up the three little stairs into their living room.
"Oh I see" John said with a smile. "So, are we a…couple now?" John asked as he gently sat down on his own armchair.
Sherlock looked away and then back to John. "Should we be?" he asked lightly.
"Well, no, I suppose not." John said awkwardly.
"But you would like us to be?" Sherlock deduced.
John coloured as he looked at his own knees.
"I want to be spoken for" John murmured eventually. "I don't want to be alone anymore, with peoples' pity. I want to be familiar with someone, I want comfort, I want a home" John rambled, finally looking up toward Sherlock who was smiling.
"How does 1 'o' clock tomorrow afternoon sound?" Sherlock asked, approaching his violin.
"What for?" John asked dubiously.
"Our civil union ship" Sherlock said dully as he placed his violin under his chin.
"Our civil-what now?" John asked incredulously.
Sherlock dropped his bow and turned to John with an expression of obviousness. "John, what you just described was a marriage. We know each other. We live together. You want people to know about us. The one act of making a civil partnership is the most logical choice to take down all barriers between your current position and desired aspirations. Would you not agree?" Sherlock countered, raising his bow once more to play a wedding march.
John shook his head in disbelief but smiled none the less, unable to counteract his partners' argument.
"I trust you have a morning suit?" Sherlock asked nonchalantly.
000
The following day, the press were gathered for a one off announcement as agreed. Sherlock held John's hand as he established to the paparazzi that John was his partner and that they did want to make it official, but he made sure to inform them that it would not affect the running of their business as Consulting Detectives.
The union was a small and well dressed affair. Mycroft holding the rings and Mrs Hudson, the confetti, there was only one photograph taken for their mantelpiece beside the skull in 221B.
John's ribs healed enough within the next two months for them to pursue new activities that proved to be rather time-consuming, but which Sherlock had become addicted to.
000
Sherlock and John Watson – Holmes were together for 43 years before a degenerative illness took hold of Sherlock. It destroyed John to see his partner become slow and sad, and the two made a consecutive decision to end the suffering on Sherlock's 80th birthday.
They had lived through many happy events and copious sad ones; the marriage of Lestrade and Molly, the death's of Mrs Hudson, Mycroft and Harriet.
John Watson's hands were not as steady as they used to be when he filled the syringe with the terminal chemical.
Sherlock was slightly breathless as he looked up at John sitting beside him on their very old and battered couch. They had ensured that they were fully dressed and decent for being found the next day by their visiting nurse.
"John, you don't have to-" Sherlock started as John inserted the syringe into his old and wrinkled arm.
"Sherlock, you are not leaving me here alone" John whispered as he gently pushed the lever on the surgical tool. Sherlock closed his eyes as he could feel the effects on his body almost immediately.
John didn't bother to change the syringe before doing the same to himself.
Sherlock took John's hand and lay his head back on the couch.
"Thank you, John" Sherlock said gently.
"For what, Sherlock?" John said mirroring Sherlock's pose.
"For saying yes to me all those years ago" Sherlock said with a wheeze.
"From what I remember, Sherlock, you didn't ask" John mumbled. "Now shut up, I'll meet you on the other side, Ok? Just promise you'll meet me somewhere" he said with a smile.
"I'll remember, John" Sherlock said, lightly squeezing the doctor's hand. "I'll find you, always will."
"I know" John said proudly, feeling the life drain slowly from him as he closed his eyes and inhaled his last breath.
000
In a local town, a child was born. A child with a lion's courage, an adult - sized heart and a strange infatuation with strawberry jam.
His mother called him James.
It took many years for James to become a Doctor, but he did it eventually with a lot of hard work and effort. Before James could enlist in the Army as a Physician, his mother died and he headed for London to organise the funeral and clear her flat.
James decided to advertise for a flatmate as the house was the only thing he had left of his mother and he wanted to live there – getting a job at the nearby surgery, James thought he stood a good chance of finding someone interesting to live with.
One day there was a knock at the door and James headed down the hallway to answer it. Swinging the door open, James found his breath was taken away just slightly as he viewed the man on his doorstep. The man that stood on the pavement was tall, with black unruly curls framing his rather handsome and unusually featured face. The man was roughly the same age as James and held a cardboard box in his arms.
"Magnus" The man stated with a slight smile.
"Hello Magnus, I'm James, you're here for the advert?" James asked tentatively.
"Yes, I know we will get on" Magnus stated matter-of-factly as he stepped over the threshold and put down his box.
"Oh? How do you know that?" James asked incredulously.
"I can tell by the way you answered the door" Magnus said, popping his hands behind his back. "You're a doctor who was recently about to enlist in the Army, but something stopped you; death in the family, yes, that's it. A parent. Hence the flat" Magnus explained with a wave of his hand before he tucked it behind him once more.
"How did you-?" James started incredulously.
"The science of deduction, James" Magnus stated coolly and calmly. "Now I moved out of my boarding's this morning, can I unpack straight away? My brother was being tedious, I simply had no choice."
James stood aghast in his own hallway watching Magnus with a sense of worry and fear. "Is that it?" James asked in disbelief.
"Is that what?" Magnus asked curiously with a furrowed brow.
"We're going to live together, no questions asked? I don't know a thing about you, I don't even know your full name" James said with a slight laugh.
"I'm a scientist, James; I work a lot of my time, I convince the police that they are incorrect a great deal of the time and I do not eat or sleep much as I find the activities both dull and tedious. I play violin and I am planning to open my own consultant detective business as the police are always wrong and I am always right. That's enough to be going on with don't you think?" Magnus explained in a fast paced dialogue.
"My name is Magnus Cumberbatch" He said with a wink.
James could only stare at his new flatmate in shock.
Magnus looked around his current surroundings before holding out an open palmed hand toward James.
"Can I borrow your phone? I don't have one yet" Magnus said with a breath-taking smile.
James, surprisingly, reached into his pocket as though it was habit and held out his mobile for Magnus to take.
As soon as Magnus' index finger and thumb enclosed around the object, they looked into each others' eyes. There was a simultaneously overwhelming jolt of déjà vu for both men as they stood in James' hallway watching each other closely.
Something unknown passed between them as they felt an odd sense of familiarity.
"Did you feel that?" James asked in a whisper.
"Strangely, yes, I did" Magnus replied just as quietly.
James came to his senses a moment later and dropped his hand from his own phone, now watching Magnus idly tap away at a text message to an unknown recipient.
"You don't want to use the house phone?" James asked lightly, scratching his ear awkwardly.
"I prefer to text." Magnus said by way of explanation.
"So, where is my room, James?" Magnus asked, handing the doctor back his phone.
"This way" James said with a smile as he closed the front door with a flick of his foot and led his fascinating new flatmate up the flight of stairs behind them.
The End
P.S. I may experiment with the last quarter of this story – possibly write a standalone about their afterlife – what do you think?
P.P.S. Thank you for reading – I really hope you enjoyed it!