"Goodbye Mr Holmes…"
"Phone, now." Sherlock demanded.
John Watson, his loyal friend, sighed in defeat. He knew Sherlock had feelings for The Woman, and if this was to be the only object he could keep in memory of her then he deserved it. After all, it wasn't often that Sherlock finds someone to share emotions with. To love. Perhaps he never had at all. John knew he cared for many people, but love? And perhaps to lust for someone? John didn't even believe those words had yet entered Sherlock's wide range of vocabulary.
John outstretched his hand precautionally, he still was unsure if this was the best decision. He pressed the cold device into Sherlock's warm hands. Then, without warning, Sherlock curled his hand not only around the phone, but around John's. He then also tugged at John's hand slightly, which allowed the shorter of the two men to stumble forward, so that they were standing a lot closer to each other. The detective could then stare into the gentle blue eyes of his blogger.
"Sherlock, w-what-" John began helplessly, choking on his words. Sherlock continued to stare, two of his fingers pressed firmly against John's wrist, keeping him there, and he raised one figer on his other hand to his lips.
"She was right." Sherlock whispered, releasing John from his grasp and raising from his chair to pad towards the window, slipping Irene Adler's phone into his breast pocket. He gazed down onto Baker Street as thought swept over him. He could hear John's breathing return to him over his shoulder, as Sherlock had quickly noted, he had been holding it before.
"Who was right? What was that all about?" John asked incredulously.
"She was right, John. The Woman. Irene Adler." Sherlock spun around on his back heel and faced John with a face that could only be described as expressionless.
"She isn't dead," Ignoring the gaping mouth of his flatmate, he continued "I saved her. It's a rather long story that I really don't have the time to recall. But I became one of the members of the terrorist group, and saved her life."
John sucked in a large breath of air through his teeth, his fists clenching at his side. "Right, well, that's good then." He nodded delicately.
"Before she was supposed to die, she sent me a text. A short message. It said 'Goodbye Mr Holmes…'" Sherlock stopped and pressed his lips shut. John found he was unable to speak, he was still confused and the air was held so thick that he felt Sherlock wanted to continue.
"So, what was she right about?" John whispered, his tongue flicking out from between his lips to hastily moisten them. Sherlock watched him in slight amusement before continuing.
"Ah, you see. That wasn't the end of the message." He slipped his hand into his pocket and retrieved his phone, pressing a few buttons until landing on the text. He then procceeded to take gentle steps forward, his eyes locked on John's. He turned the phone and held it to John's height, reading it aloud at the same speed that John's eyes flickered over the screen.
"Goodbye Mr Holmes. Love him, as he loves you."
John stared at the phone for a moment before his gaze wandered back up to meet Sherlock's. It was already obvious who the message indicated, however John didn't want to jump to too hasty a conclusion.
"Oh, right." Was all that John could mange, nervously clenching his fists tighter and pulling them against his sides.
"She was right. There is a man who loves me. Whose pulse rate quickened to double the amount of beats it would normally and whose pupils dilated so large and so deeply when in close proximity to me. John, that's what I was doing. Checking whether she was right. And she was, John." On each mention of his name, John's face flushed a deeper shade of pink.
Sherlock's hand moved for the shorter man's wrist once more, holding it up between their faces. His fingers lingered over John's pulse and John realised how warm and gentle the contact was. He hissed almost silently, allowing the bated breath to escape from his lungs.
"You see, Irene Adler claims that she loves me. However, how easily can lust be mistaken for love? She wants me because I am a mystery to her. She knows nothing of my true self. What I care for, who I live for, the dreams I have." Sherlock closed the gap between him and John even more so, his pale grey eyes drowning John's eyes in an emotion which neither of them had ever believed that he possessed.
"But you do." Sherlock finished, carefully trailing his hand down John's wrist to claim his hand. He rubbed small circles into the back of his hand with his thumb and watched as John momentarily shut his eyes, absorbing the pleasure. The taller man took his final step forward, closing the gap between them entirely. His free hand raised to clasp John's cheek, his touch sending sparks across John's skin and he shuddered against Sherlock's thin body.
Sherlock pressed his lips to John's forehead. Then again to his cheek. Then his chin. There was a pause in which John's eyes flickered open and his hands curled around Sherlock's waist.
"She was right, Sherlock. I've never been gay, but you." Sherlock noted John's pulse raise even more so. "You're different. You're...God...you're beautiful Sherlock Holmes. The most dashing, incredible, impossible man I've ever met." The blush on his face had reached a peak and he was glad when he felt Sherlock's breath dance over his cheeks.
The detective could clearly deduce that his friend was not lying. On the contrary, his friend was allowing him to understand feelings that were hidden so deep within him that it almost pained him to release them. The detective raised his free hand to his neck and found his own pulse. Almost one hundred and fifty beats per minute. His face broke into a smile and he whispered against the fluffy hair on John's head.
"It would appear I feel the very same way about you."
Sherlock's lips pressed hard against John's almost knocking off his feet. There was not even a pause before John's lips were moving hastily against them and Sherlock's hands clasped both of his cheeks. John's tongue nervously skittered across his flatmate's lips however Sherlock allowed him access almost instanly, opening his mouth with a quiet moan which sent tingles down John's spine. They battled for leadership, their bodies rubbing firmly against each other, however neither of them could claim the other as they moved in perfect harmony.
Sherlock pulled away from the kiss, hastily brushing his lips over John's jawline and trailing sweet, chaste kisses along his neck. John groaned pleasurably and Sherlock absorbed the noise with delight, working faster and harder, his hips crashing against his friend's.
They pulled apart what seemed like hours later, their eyes soaked in love and their bodies tingling with emotions that they both couldn't quite put a name to. Both men, their chests rising and falling heavily, made their way to the sofa. Sherlock lay down first and John curled into his body, his hands losing themselves in the curly mess of hair on his head. Sherlock buried his head into John's and they lay together in silence.
"Love him, as he loves you."
"I will, Irene Adler, I will."