New Years Eve
"Sherlock! We shouldn't be here." John hissed as he squeezed out from under the
seat in the uppermost cab of the London Eye. Apparently it was imperative that
they smuggle themselves in just before closing so they could investigate in
solitude.
He didn't know why, it seemed that his partner could always surprise him. He
smiled slightly as he remembered his last birthday and everything Sherlock had
done for him. This wasn't where he wanted to be on New Years Eve, but if he was
with the tall, dark and handsome man in front of him he didn't care.
"I needed to see something, I thought it would be good for you to see it too."
The slim detective turned with a neutral expression on his face, hiding his
intentions in his eyes. He knew the schedule for this evening, that after the
last chime of Big Ben the sky would light up. He wanted to see this and he
wanted to see it with John.
They frittered the time away, Sherlock making any excuse for them to be there as
he became anxious for the moment to arrive.
The chimes couldn't have arrived any sooner for Sherlock, his face lighting up
in anticipation and an elated smile on his face at the night became red, blue,
green, white and every other colour imaginable.
It took a moment for him to realise that his friend wasn't stood beside him
during this spectacular sky show; no, John was huddled at the furthest end of
the cab, eyes scrunched up and his hands clamped round his head which pushed
against his knees in an attempt to make himself smaller than he actually was.
The muscles in his arms tensed with each crack of a firework.
"John? John, what's wrong?" Sherlock half ran to his companion, placed one hand
on his back and the other on his knee as he leant over to look at the shorter
man's face. He looked troubled, terrified even; then it struck the detective
where he'd seen this before - Baskerville. This was the sheer look of terror
John had on his face when he thought he was stuck in a room with the Hound.
"John... John, breathe." The dark haired man shifted so he sat beside his
flatmate, his arms round him in an attempt to shield him from the horror in his
mind.
They sat like that, the sociopath resting his head on his doctor's blond hair,
until the frantic display had finished and the tension eased out of the
soldier's arms and back.
"You okay?" John whispered and his other half laughed lightly. Sherlock pulled
the doctor closer and kissed his hair.
"I'm almost certain I'm supposed to ask you that." He looked down and placed a
finger over John's mow open mouth as he tried to speak.
"I'm sorry. I should have told you. If you don't want to talk about it, I
understand. I won't ask." John's mouth closed and his eyes widen, tears creeping
down his face before the genius wiped them away tenderly. The blond pulled his
lover towards him and kissed him softly before looking into his eyes, their
foreheads meeting and he whispered so softly Sherlock almost missed the words.
"I love you. Happy New Year."