Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Implying that John and Sherlock have been *cough* sexually active before
Rated: T (but for a reason)
Sherlock Holmes was watching the scene rom a tree a few yards away. Mrs. hudson was sobbing into handkerchief, Mycroft had dark rings under his eyes and he could make out a tear on his cheek. Sherlock's eyes drifted through the little crowd avoiding the one face he wasn't able to look at. Lestrade was there and he was talking to him. out of the corner of his eyes, which were locked on Lestrade he saw John's face and he was surprised. There was not a single emotion to be seen in it. It was blank as if he was dead. Sherlock brushed this thought away and turned, leaning against the tree. He couldn't look back at those expressionless eyes. He knew that with every picture of this blank face beyond sadness and grieve into numbness his decision would tremble. He tried to remember. The happy John Watson, the man he was working with, solving crimes, the man that was amazed by his deductions... the man he fell in love with.
Eversince John Watson left the baker street Sherlock was watching him whenever possible. He was busy, destroying Moriarty's empire, finding everyone that was devoted to him enough to kill Mrs. Hudson or John if they knew he was still alive. He wasn't done when he was forced to tell John he was still alive.
Sherlock was watching the window to John's small flat from out of the shadows of the building opposite to it.
Suddenly the window opened and John sat down on the windows sill, his feet against the bricked wall.
"I missed you for so long now!" He shouted out to the sky "I'm ready to follow you!" Sherlock's heart skipped a beat and he ran out of the shadows.
"John! Stop!" He shouted, one arm reaching up. "I'm here! I'm alive!" He shouted. He saw John's eyes widen and he saw that he wasn't believing in what he saw. "It's really me! You're not hallucinating!" Sherlock shouted desperately. "Stay there! I'll come up. A few minutes! Don't move, please!" Sherlock called. He saw John nodding slightly and ran around the building, not caring whoo might see him.
He burst into John's flat three minutes later. He let out a reliefed sigh as he saw John still on the windowsill.
"John. Turn around and come back in here." He said softly. John slowly turned and Sherlock saw the tears on his face. His face was no longer blank. Sherlock could see all the emotions John had forced down in the last seven months. The sadness, the despair, the love but also the relief and confusion about seeing Sherlock Holmes.
"You're dead... I'm dead. I'm in heaven..." John muttered as Sherlock stepped closer.
"You're not dead." He said, putting a hand to the smaller man's cheek. "We are both alive." He said.
"But how?" John asked.
"Tht doesn't matter..." Sherlock said, John ignored his words.
"How could you leave me?" He completed his question.
"Moriarty... he was... he threatened to kill you... and Mrs, Hudson and Lestrade. He said you'd all be dead if I didn't die." Sherlock tried to explain. "I didn't want to leave you... but I wanted you safe."
"Safe?! Maybe I was alive but I still had to bury you! I had to watch your corpse... being buried... and I had to..." John's voice broke. Sherlock pulled him into a hug.
"I'm sorry." He whispered.
"I missed you." John said. Sherlock smiled.
"I missed you too." It was John who kissed Sherlock but the taller man returned the kiss at once. Sherlock had waited for this kiss for seven months. John's hands tangled up in his black curls. Sherlock's arms tightened around John's waist pressing him closer to his chest. John's tongue ran over his lips and Sherlock let him in. Their tongues met and like so many times before danced. Both men searched for more contact and it was Sherlock who finally pushed John down on the couch in the small dusty room.
John woke up confused. Had the last night really happened? Or was he completly mad? He streched his muscles and his arm touched something warm.
"Mornin'" a deep voice hummed next to him. His eyes flew open. He was lying in his bed in the small flat... next to none other than Sherlock Holmes. a smile spread over his face.
"Hey." He said and rolled onto his side. His eyes were still closed but his head was turned into John's direction. John raised one hand and ran his fingertips over Sherlock's chest, retracing the lines of his muscular body until her reached the blanket at the other man's navel. Sherlock's eyes opened slowly. He smiled.
"It's good to wake up like that." He said, his voice thick and sleepy. He looked up into John's eyes. "You look good." He said.
"I slept for the first time in seven month... I mean without nightmares" He said and Sherlock whinced.
"Was it really that bad?" He asked. John nodded and then said "It's alright now... as long as you stay here."
"I'm never gonna leave you." Sherlock vowed.