A/N: A request for a Sherlock fic based on Seether's song "Tonight." Listen to the song first if you haven't heard it. For SidMax (a Sherlok bestie of mine on tumblr. She and I have a collab fic on her FF account. Rumor Has It. Her idea/outline, my writing.) R&R. Enjoy.
Tonight
Never has there been such a night, the air is cool, the city buzzing with action. John's footsteps tandem with mine, like a well-oiled machine. We walk through the streets, talking about the case but our conversation gets deeper. We start talking about our lives. John stops and looks at me. I return his glance and he smiles.
My cell phone chimes. It's Lestrade.
We're running now, chasing our culprit, and he's not far behind me, as he often is. I can hear his labored breath and his stomping feet as we pivot and etch our way through the dark underbelly of this city. He tells me he's exhausted, but all I hear is 'I want more.' And we press on.
We stop and find ourselves facing our villain; his latest victim is on the other side of town with a gunman at her side. They're connected through some sort of Bluetooth-like device. We let him ramble about his plans and his genius. He tells us about his distance and how all the victims were killed by different men, with different methods to confuse the police. He is inadvertently stalling himself, just long enough for the call to be triangulated and have the gunman apprehended. We tell him it's over, but our killer keeps running, and we follow suit.
We run over rooftops and down fire escapes. He can feel the adrenaline coursing through him, as can I, it's overwhelming. But it's brief as we close in on our killer.
When we corner him, he takes out a knife and swings at me, slicing my arm and nicking my chin as I block it and knock the blade from his hand. John pulls out his gun and advancing towards the killer, fire in his eyes. He starts beating the killer with it, calling him a bloody bastard and to never fucking come near me again if he knows what's good for him. His words are acid, splattering the filthy pavement.
When the killer is finally knocked out, John stands, with blood on his gun and a few drops on his face, panting and a sense of darkness about him. I look at him and see flashes of war dance across his eyes. We catch our breath and drag the killer to the curb. He tucks it back and we wait for the boys to fetch the bleeding scum at our feet.
John is about to apologize for the way he acted, but swallows it when I thank him. He looks at my cuts, when he does, I feel his gut cringe and the rage boiling in his stomach, but there is a hint of fear in his visage. The tiniest flake of panic and sorrow laced in the anger.
When the boys finally arrive, we give Lestrade the facts. John was dwelling on a thought, nagging at the back of his mind. He asks me if we should get a cab. I just smile at him and kick off, speeding down the alley and up a fire escape. I want him to ride his adrenaline high as long as he can tonight; I owe it to him, after what he did for me. So, I give him the distraction he needs.
We laugh and chase each other, like children of the night. We holler, letting out everything; the excitement, but also the fear, everything we couldn't keep inside. We do this because we're running away. We're pushing out the world as much as we are dwelling in it. There are things that neither of us wants to face.
I don't want to think about John's commitment to his new woman, his Mary. I don't want to face that, one day John is going to leave me, either for a woman, or through more gruesome circumstances. And he doesn't want to face that I might leave him before he's ready to say goodbye. Out here, we don't have to face those problems. Out here, John and I are all that matters.
When we need a rest, we find a rundown factory that looks out onto the river. John stands beside me, taking in the view.
"John." I ask, breathlessly.
"Yeah?" He answers, just as breathless.
"Is this, Mary business, is this what you really want?"
He's quiet for a long time, not looking at me, so I ask another question.
"If I were to die tonight, what would you do?"
He turns and gives me a horrified glance, but it fades to a solemn stare. After a moment, he looks down at the river and back to me.
"I'd scream." I looked at him. He says it with a hurt in his eyes.
"I'd scream out my lungs. I'd kick and I'd fight. I'd never stop fighting. Because," he pauses and collects his thoughts, "If I couldn't have you, and this," he vaguely motions to the area around us, "I'd never be the same." I was certain he didn't just mean the work, the excitement of the chase, but us as well. He has a look in his eyes that he wants to say more, but he bites it back. I jump start him again.
"Now, answer my first question." He stared back at me, already knowing the answer.
For the past few years, John and I have been complicated. We've skirted around the question that hung over our heads since the beginning. It's been hard for both of us. He'd take a step forward and I'd take two steps back. We've been arguing for some time over the most trivial things. We'd bicker over things like the milk, the laundry, Mycroft, anything to keep ourselves from actually talking about the real issues at hand.
It's all been for naught. It's been such a harrowing journey, and we've been letting it pass us by. I've been letting it pass me by. I saw it in his eyes tonight, I saw that we needed to take this step. He needs to know that he has made my life complete.
I pull him into my arms at the roof's edge and hold him. I put my lips to his ear. I tell him I'm sorry for ever thinking twice about how he made me feel, and how I'll give him more. I tell him I'll give him everything if he stays. I tell him I need to take things slow, but that I don't want to lose this. Whatever this is between us, I want to work for it. It's been staring me in the face and that I will never take John for granted as long as I am with him.
It comes out as an emotional mess. But John nods and takes it all in just the same. He tells me it's alright. He tells me he's never been surer about us. And I know he is. I know he'll take it slow with me, because we're worth it. He'll put up with my antics, my habits, my indifference because I need it, and he needs me. He'd never want to be anywhere else than by my side.
We're scared for the future, but we'll face it together. We'll face it all. We yell it from the rooftops and keep fighting, keep chasing. We'll suffer through the hard times and savor the good. We'll make every moment count, as if we only have this night. After tonight, we'll never stop.