Johnlock Fluff
(I do not own Sherlock Holmes or the characters. If I did they would fuck.)
You can also find this story on my wattpad here: story/4404202-payback-johnlock-fluff
It got some nice reviews so I thought you guys might enjoy it.
(and I won't apologise for writing more Johnlock)
Payback
John sat on the trimmed green patch of grass in front of the pristine shiny gravestone. His legs were slightly uncrossed as he leant forward to trace the name on the grave with his finger.
'Sherlock Holmes'
He drew his hands back and put his head into them, letting a sob escape his lips.
"I miss you, you stupid git." John whispered, begged, to the air. "Come back, please come back." Almost a year had past since... it happened and John still remembered the sickening crunch of Sherlocks body hitting the pavement.
Then, John stood up. It was time to leave. He marched away and called a taxi.
For the year since Sherlock had died, John had visited Sherlocks grave, everyday, it had become part of himself. And each time he did, he felt as if he was being watched.
Watched by Sherlock.
As silly as that may seem, it was the only connection John had left of Sherlock Holmes. And, everyday, after visiting the grave, John would go back to the flat and write the same thing on Sherlocks request blog.
"Come Back."
And each day, there would be no answer, no response.
Because Sherlock was dead, however much John denied it.
And that tore John apart. It ruined him. He turned to pain, drugs and drink because they seemed better than a life without Sherlock.
One day, after visiting the man he loved and begging for his return, John was walking home when he felt that feeling you get when someone is watching you. He looked around and saw a shady man hiding in the shadows. John took a detour and the man followed. John went into a shop to buy some milk and when he went back outside, the man was waiting across the road. The man followed John halfway across town until it got dark and John had had enough. He spun on his heel and ran over to the shadowed man. He took a sharp swing and punched him heavily on the jaw. The man spat blood and growled at John.
"What was that for, John?" The man sneered.
"For leaving me." John growled back. Then John pulled the man into a tight warm hug.
"What is this for?" The man asked.
"For coming back." John sighed and he held onto Sherlock.
He didn't even bother asking how he did it, how he tricked everyone. All that mattered was that moment at that time.
"I missed you, Sherlock." John sighed, still refusing to let go.
"I missed you too." Sherlock whispered.
John pulled away, he had to ask.
"Who else knows?"
"Just you and Molly." Sherlock said.
"Oh." John sighed.
Sherlock pulled John by the hand to the road side, hailed a taxi and told it to head for the morgue.
"Listen, Sherlock, there's something I have to tell yo-" John cut himself off when he saw Sherlock wasn't listening.
When then arrived, Sherlock jumped out, while John climbed slowly out. They ran in and went straight to see Molly.
"John, I've been gone for pretty much a year. And in that year, I came to realise that what I need was under my nose all this time. So.." He stopped talking and the tension built in the room. Johns heart thumped heavily in his chest. Could it be..?
Sherlock called Molly out from her room into the corridor and put his arm around her.
"Molly and I are engaged." Sherlock squealed.
Johns jaw dropped. He tried to close it but failed and his jaw widened more open.
"What..?" He muttered. "No... Not possible." John whispered to himself. He backed away from the couple and his back hit the wall.
"John? Are you all right?" Sherlock asked, puzzled when John slid across the wall to the door.
Then Johns legs took control and he hurtled down corridors and out of the building, onto the road. He dodged a speeding car and ran. He ran all the way home and automatically passed the flat without a seconds thought. He ran as fast as he could and his legs brought him to the cemetery. He collapsed down at 'Sherlocks' grave. He sat in silence for five minutes before he whispered:
"I think I'd prefer it if you were dead." John sat in front of the grave for another five minutes before he stood up, ready to leave. He turned and started walking away but returned and kicked the tombstone angrily.
"I hate you!" John yelled at the empty graveyard. "I hate you, I can't believe you did this."
After standing still for a while, listening to the birds, John marched home. He didn't bother with a taxi for a few reasons.
1. Too many memories
2. He needed fresh air.
3. Stay away from Sherlock as long as possible.
So, he walked back to the flat. He snailed along the roads, being sure to take his not so sweet time. The sun was slowly slipping into darkness and the scene made John smile to himself. But the smile fell away as he turned the corner off his road and saw Molly and Sherlock at the door. Sherlocks key was in the lock and the door was ajar but his hands were around Molly and they were locked in a passionate kiss. After what felt like a year, they pulled away and Molly hopped in a taxi. Sherlock turned his head to watch to the taxi leave and his eyes latched onto John. He quickly looked away and went inside, slamming the door after him. John jogged to the door and unlocked it. He slipped inside and bumped into Ms Hudsen, who was so confused.
"I think I'm insane. I just saw Sherlock climb those stairs." She dithered.
"He's back. He faked his death." John started to explain but he stopped when he heard gun shots.
"He's back to his old tricks." Ms Hudsen moaned.
John nodded and went upstairs. He swung the door open and he felt a bullet whoosh past his head. He stood in shock.
"That almost hit me." He gulped, staring at Sherlock, who was aiming his gun lazily towards John.
"I know." Sherlock said flatly.
"At least pretend you care." John spat sweeping to his room.
"Why did you run out like that, in the Morgue?" Sherlock shouted out. John fell face first onto his bed and ignored Sherlocks continued shouts. A shadow passed over John and Sherlock leant against the door frame.
"What's wrong?" Sherlock sighed.
"Nothing." John mumbled into his pillow.
"Okay, what's really wrong? I can tell something's bugging you." Sherlock asked.
"If you know everything, why don't you know what's wrong. Mr Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective Genius." John growled sourly.
"Because I want to hear it from you." Sherlock whispered.
John sat up and locked eyes with Sherlock.
"It's just-" John sighed. "It's nothing." And he fell back into the bed, falling into place with his outline. John felt the bed bend as Sherlock sat down.
"For the time I've know you, you've had lots of girlfriends-" Sherlock paused.
"What are you implying?" John asked.
Sherlock stood up quickly.
"You have NO right to be jealous!" Sherlock half screamed as he kicked the wall. Then he left.
There was muffled sounds of Sherlock on the phone. From what John heard, Sherlock had invited Molly over. John pushed his face further into the pillow and it soon became damp with his silent tears.
John woke to the sound off the kettle boiling. He found he was under the duvet in his pyjamas. He didn't remember changing and crawling under the covers. He slipped from under the sheets and strolled out of his bedroom. He clicked the kettle and poured the water into one of the three cups on the table. There was a soft cough behind him and he turned.
"Listen, Sherlock- oh, hey, its you, Molly." John sighed. Molly was wearing what appeared to be one of Sherlocks shirts and she quickly poured two cups and walked back to the bedroom, pausing only to say 'good morning.'
John sat down on the sofa chair, cradling his mug, with a sad expression moulded into his face. His eyes were wet with refusing to fall tears and his hands shook slightly every time he took a sip from his tea. After an eternity of silence, the phone broke him from his twisted thoughts.
"Hello?" John whispered into the phone.
"That cunt Sherlock is back isn't he?" The voice asked. John nodded and then muttered 'yeah'
"Oh good. Tell him he's needed on a case. You can come too." Lestrade demanded and hung up.
John put his cup down and knocked on Sherlocks door.
"BUSY!" Sherlock shouted out and John cringed.
"Sherlock. It's a case. They requested you personally." John called out with sarcastic jolliness. There were scuffling sounds and the door was yanked open.
"Call a taxi." Sherlock smiled as he strolled out.
The case was simple. John could have figured it out. On the way home, Sherlock complained about how they had dragged him away to solve it when it was so obvious who had killed poor Mr Timothy.
"I'm sorry Sherlock, they told me, I thought it would be good." John apologised for the hundredth time.
"I had things to do. I could have been doing something better right." Sherlock moaned.
"I know what that is, and believe me, this is better." John muttered under his breath, receiving an odd look from Sherlock.
They went into the flat and had a cup of tea. Molly had left a note saying she was called into work. Fortunately Sherlock wasn't in the mood to visit Molly so they stayed at home.
"Hey, Sherlock. About yesterday, I don't know what came over me. It was a bit of a shock. I'm sorry." John said, trying to avoid the intense stare of Sherlocks burning eyes.
"It's fine." Sherlock brushed off.
"I need to tell you something." John whispered.
"I know." Sherlock replied.
"Urrr... I'm... I'm-" John froze and watched as Sherlock waved a magazine in front of his face.
"John, I know. I bought you this." Sherlock grumbled.
John took the magazine and examined the cover.
The words 'Hunks and Jocks' was printed boldly across the top, with small writing which read 'the number 1. gay mag'. The rest of the space was covered with half naked men.
There was a brief moment of awkward silence before John spoke.
"You didn't buy this recently." He pointed out.
"Yes I did." Sherlock argued.
"The date is from three years ago." John continued.
"I've known you were gay for a while." Sherlock snarled.
"I haven't known you for three years." John said, a small smile forming.
"John. Shut up." Sherlock growled.
"It was yours wasn't it?" John laughed. Sherlocks eyebrows furrowed.
"Shut up John." He threatened.
Johns laughs came to an abrupt stop and the room became silence once more.
"I don't want your stupid magazine." John said, shoving it back.
Sherlock took it and discarded it on the table.
"What do you want, John? If you could have anything, what would you have?" A small smirk dancing on his lips.
John stared daringly at Sherlock for an intense minute. Then he stood up quickly and faced his door.
"I'm going to have a nap." John grunted and he went into his room. He could feel Sherlocks eyes on his back. He crawled under the covers and fell quickly into a dream. He dreamt that Sherlock was his. When he reluctantly woke up, he saw Sherlock sitting at the end of his bed.
"Sherlock? What are you doing?" John asked in sleepy voice.
"I need to ask you something." Sherlock said, locking eyes with John. They shared a brief moment of silence as they stared almost longingly at each other.
"Will you be my best man?" Sherlock spluttered out.
John looked away from Sherlocks beautiful eyes.
"When is the wedding?" John asked his wall.
"Next month." Sherlock answered, looking off into the distance.
"Can you give me a week to think about it?" John asked.
"Sure." Sherlock sighed and he left.
John already knew he was going to say no. How could he stand up there while that bitch Molly married his Sherlock. But he would at least pretend to think about it. He would need to think of an excuse. Maybe his mother was dying and he needed to be with her. Or maybe he had a dentist appointment that day.
John let out a long sigh and relaxed back into his bed, desperate to grab some last moments of sleep.
He never thought this day would come. He thought he would have Sherlock and Sherlock would have him. Never did John imagine Sherlock would marry, let alone a girl, let alone Molly.
- 1 Month Later-
John said yes. Why oh why did he say yes? Sherlock asked him what he had decided and looked at him with those eyes and his cheekbones and John succumbed and said yes.
Why?
Because.
That was the simplest explanation John could think off.
John sat on a sofa chair, facing Sherlocks bare back. In a flash, Sherlock was wearing a pristine white shirt and had turned to face John to button it up.
"Thank you." Sherlock said, capturing Johns eyes.
"For what?" John asked, raising his eyebrows.
"For saying yes." Sherlock explained, turning around to grab his bow tie.
"Oh, yeah, sure. No problem." John muttered.
"I thought you were going to say no." Sherlock continued.
I thought I was too, John thought.
"Oh, I'd never... This day is too important." John lied.
Sherlock turned on his heel and bent down so he was face to face with John. He placed his warm hands on Johns knees, barely touching his thighs.
"Thank you." He whispered. John stared at his lips for a long minute before Sherlock stood up.
"There's really no need to thank me." John laughed softly.
Sherlock stood up straight and did a twirl.
"How do I look?" He asked.
"Amazing." John gasped. "*cough* I mean, you look okay." Sherlock smiled at him.
"I'm going to the bathroom." John said, standing up and walking out.
He closed the door and leant against the wall, breathing heavily.
If there was a time to leave, it would be now.
John walked towards the bathroom and quickly passed it to the front door. He briefly looked to see if anyone was watching and he slipped out and called over a taxi.
"22B1 Baker Street, please." He said to the driver.
The journey wasn't very long and in under an hour, John was laying in bed holding a knife, contemplating his fate.
Sherlock stood next to the alter, waiting for Molly to come through the doors.
"John, thank you for being here." Sherlock whispered behind him. When John didn't reply, Sherlock turned to see John wasn't there.
"Where's John?" Sherlock shouted.
"He left." The priest said. "I saw him leave earlier."
"No. He has to be here." Sherlock continued to shout.
A very dull version of 'Here comes the bride' echoed into the church. The church doors opened and Molly entered, dressed in a white dress just above her ankles.
"STOP THE WEDDING!" Sherlock screeched. He would NOT get married without John. The music stopped suddenly
"What's wrong?" Molly gasped.
"I can't marry you, John has to be here and he's not." Sherlock explained. Then everything was silent. Sherlock looked passed Molly and at the door. He ran for it, shoving passed Molly and he escaped onto the street. Sherlocks lanky legs brought him away from the church and to a busy main road.
"Where am I?" Sherlock asked. Usually, he would know, but his mind was so muddled, he couldn't think straight. His spinning eyes latched onto a road name and the map formed in his head. He ran left then took a right. He ran as fast as his legs would run and he didn't stop until he was jamming the keys in the lock. He knew John. He knew what he was capable of. Sherlock climbed the stairs two at a time and ran into the flat. Johns door was closed and Sherlock opened it.
John was slumped back against the headboard. His head was rolled to his side, resting on his shoulder. His left wrist was a bloody mess and the sticky blood had trickled to his elbow. In his right hand he lightly grasped a knife. His eyes were wide open but they were empty.
Sherlock ran over and held Johns face.
"John? John? Please wake up. I'm here, don't do this. Come back. I'm sorry about everything. I'm sorry I left you. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I love you. Please don't leave me. I'm so sorry please come back." A steady stream of tears enveloped Sherlocks cheeks and he sobbed against Johns cold dead chest.
"He's lost a lot of blood. You mustn't excite him. You can see him now." The doctor told Sherlock after he asked for the millionth time to see him.
Sherlock ran into the room and carefully approached the bed.
John looked over and saw Sherlock.
"You don't have to be here. You should be on you're honeymoon." John coughed.
"I didn't get married, John." Sherlock said in a humorous voice.
"WHAT? Why not?" John jumped, causing his headache to return.
"I changed my mind." Sherlock muttered.
"You can't do that to people. You probably killed Molly." John complained.
"You almost killed yourself is that not reason enough." Sherlock spat venomously.
"That's ridiculous. What does a person like me, mean to you?" John laughed between coughs.
"So much more than anyone." Sherlock signed, crouch at his side and holding Johns hand.
"I was just getting out of the way." John explained.
" John, listen. I'm in love with you. I can't just let you die. Then I would have to die. I don't know what I was thinking when I looked at Molly the way I did. I'm sorry I left you, I'm sorry I almost married someone else. I'm sorry you do this. All I want is you. That's clear to me now." Sherlock breathed out heavily and waited for an answer. There was a hum and Sherlock looked up and saw a flat line on the heart monitor.
"Quick, get out of here." The doctor yelled as he barged in.
It was over so quickly. It was a blur. A big blurry mess. In seconds, John was dismissed as dead. Tears returned to Sherlock and he fell back onto an chair. In a whirl of time and energy, Sherlock was sitting in his own home, surrounded by familiar faces, unfocused by tears.
This was all his fault.
Someone came up and gave him a sympathetic hug.
In another whoosh of memories, Sherlock was climbing out of bed. Months passed where Sherlock would do nothing.
He sat in his chair having imaginary conversations with John.
Sherlocks world came into colour as Mrs Hudson's shrill voice echoed up the stairs.
"I wish you two would stop doing this." She complained.
Footsteps sounded up the stairs and someone walked in.
"Now we're even." The man in the doorway said.
Without a seconds wait, Sherlock threw himself at them and kissed him full on the lips.
Maybe we can all have a happy ending.