That Long Lonely Road
The rented Land Rover coughed, Sherlock sent an uneasy glance in John's direction before he listened intently to the engine in front of him.
Another cough and a cloud of steam erupted from the back, Sherlock watched in dismay the view in his centre screen mirror as the white eruption filled the night air. Not long after, the Land Rover slowed down of its own accord, the temperature gauge rocketed up to red and all of the dashboard lights flashed once before the engine cut out completely.
John pursed his lips and looked at Sherlock expectantly.
Sherlock tried to start the machine, upon the familiar noise heard from the engine attempting to turn over. Sherlock determined what was wrong.
"Cylinder Head Gasket" He muttered, smacking the steering wheel in frustration.
"You can fix it?" John asked, looking shiftily around the dark moor that they had been abandoned upon.
"No." Sherlock stated dully.
"Uh huh" John hummed as he let out a gentle cough.
"Can I use your phone?" Sherlock asked abruptly, releasing his seat belt and turning to face John.
John kept his hands clasped between his knees. "What is wrong with yours? Complimenting your iphone for months and months, then proceeding to wave it in front of me repeatedly shouting about 3G and telling me I don't have one must have been for something" the Doctor said with a polite smile.
"John" Sherlock warned.
"Alright, fine" John said, giving up and reaching into his coat pocket to fetch his phone.
Sherlock smirked as he flipped open the familiar phone.
"You really shouldn't carry this in the same pocket as our door key you know" Sherlock muttered as he busily typed away, the phone light illuminating Sherlock's features in the darkness.
"How could you tell it was my door key? It might be another key." John said as he rolled his eyes.
Sherlock scoffed. "What, the key for your fire safe?" he questioned rhetorically.
"How do you know about the fire safe?" John questioned incredulously.
"Please John, the key for your fire safe is barely big enough to make these new scratches." Sherlock barked.
"How do you know about the fire safe?" John questioned through clenched teeth.
Sherlock looked up at John now. "John, a safe is a mere hobby to break into".
John's jaw slackened as he looked around him at the isolated road and fields only just visible through the darkness, aghast at his impossible flatmate.
"Plus, a safe is not a place for sentimental items." Sherlock muttered as he flicked John's phone shut and held it out to the soldier without glancing at him.
"Who did you text?" John asked. Upon receiving no answer from the steeple-fingered detective he questioned further; "What do we do now?"
"We wait" Sherlock said dully, staring straight ahead into the darkness.
John nodded affirmatively.
After half an hour of isolated and quiet air, Sherlock turned to John, his brow furrowed.
"Why do you keep my old scarf and phone in your fire safe?" Sherlock queried.
John coughed awkwardly. "Just in case" he said, looking down at his lap.
Sherlock reached up and turned on the interior light to better observe his friend.
"In case of a fire?" Sherlock puzzled, his face contorting into one of disbelief.
"No" John said simply, glancing at Sherlock before looking down once more.
"In case of burglary?" Sherlock prompted.
"No" John said, getting more and more frustrated by the second.
"In case of-?" Sherlock started but was silenced by John's outraged shout;
"In case I lose you alright? Now will you kindly change the subject or think of something else to talk about." John burst, directing an un-breaking steel gaze toward his colleague.
Sherlock opened and closed his mouth a couple of times trying to comprehend this answer he had received at a decibel too many for the small space they occupied.
"Where would I go?" Sherlock asked in a puzzled tone.
John sighed heavily. He should have known that was not the end of it. "I dunno, Sherlock, sometimes when you disappear for days I catch myself worrying, fretting that instead of you on the doorstep at the end of the case, it will be some police officer, telling me how you got yourself killed." John said as he ran his hands through his hair tiredly. A sign of stress Sherlock noted.
"You…worry about me?" Sherlock questioned lightly, focussing on rubbing at a smudge on the steering wheel finding it somehow hard to look at John after his confession.
"For all my sins, yes." John said weakly, gazing out once more at the rolling hills of Dartmoor that he knew where there but he couldn't quite see.
"Interesting" Sherlock said, removing his scarf as it had suddenly gotten warm in the vehicle. Sherlock caught the feel of his new blue chequered scarf in his hands; a Christmas present to him from John last year. He felt the material in between his fingers and allowed himself to reflect on John's words.
After a further hour, John was still seat-belted into the passenger seat, playing Tetris on his phone as Sherlock roamed around the rooms of his Mind Palace with ease, trying to dig out old cases to review the facts until it became too hard to ignore the random items that had been placed around the usually empty surfaces. John's cane, John's slippers, John's dressing gown, John's phone and a white cup full of tea that followed him everywhere.
"Oh John, tidy your things!" Sherlock suddenly burst in quiet car. The palace vision broke and Sherlock found himself being stared at by his companion.
"What things?" John asked, the Tetris abandoned although the theme tune still rang out quietly almost comically.
"Oh nothing, just some disruption at the Palace" Sherlock said, closing his eyes in concentration.
John smiled smugly; "My things are kept in the Palace?" he asked with some amusement.
Sherlock opened his eyes and looked to John across the small space. "Some." He sniffed. "But I did not put them there" He added promptly.
John laughed triumphantly.
"What's funny?" Sherlock questioned the giggling man with furrowed eyebrows.
"I got myself in the Palace." John said simply, erupting into a further set of giggles.
Sherlock smiled at the amusement his friend was experiencing.
"Why is that so funny?" He questioned with a raised eyebrow.
"The cold, emotionless, absent-hearted Consulting Detective, keeps my things safe in the infamous Mind Palace and he was asking me why I kept an old scarf and mobile phone." John said incredulously; "Surely you see the funny side" he added, turning back to Tetris.
Sherlock's smile grew and so did the yawn that cracked his face.
"Well, John, it does not look as though Mycroft is sending anyone out tonight." Sherlock muttered, taking off his coat.
"Is that who you text?" John asked absent-mindedly as he moved a fast falling set of bricks to the left hand side of his phone screen.
"John, you looked at the sent items as soon as I handed the phone back to you; you know full well that I text my brother pretending to be you…I assumed it would make him quicker at sending help." Sherlock said dully.
The tall man opened his door, moving swiftly and elegantly he climbed into the back and lay down across the seats, covering himself with his long coat.
"And where am I supposed to sleep?" John queried offhandedly.
"There is plenty of room John. I'm not that wide" Sherlock mumbled.
"What, next to you?" John asked turning around in his seat to look at the genius.
"Problem?" Sherlock asked.
"Nope, no problem. I was in the army remember" John said gruffly as he switched his phone off and followed suit.
John managed to clamber in beside Sherlock and had to admit the consulting detective was quite correct, there was plenty of space…for John anyway. The Land Rover did lack width however and Sherlock had to fold himself in to fit.
"Here" Sherlock muttered as he threw the left side of his long coat over the Army Doctor.
John looked taken a back for a moment at Sherlock's thoughtfulness before he gratefully accepted his half.
As the men lay shoulder to shoulder on the back seat of the 4x4, Sherlock found himself drifting into an easy sleep. John smiled as he saw the rare sight. He carefully sat up, flicking the lock on the driver's door and then the internal light above them. Settling back down, the doctor allowed himself a slight snuggle into the coat and man beside him, revelling subconsciously in the warmth and scent that met him.
000
Sherlock awoke to the loud snoring of his flatmate, he recognised it without opening his eyes, the same sound that could be heard during the early hours in 221B's living room. Or when the detective had been in John's bedroom searching for paper, or breaking into his fire safe and confiscating his laptop.
As Sherlock smiled sleepily, he took notice of his body's current position with some amusement. He was on his back, just as he had gone to sleep, but there was a heavy weight on his chest and side. His arms were wrapped around something, something heavy, warm and that smelled of John. Sherlock's eyes popped open and he instantly blinked in the bright daylight. John's face was very close to his and Sherlock noted his complete look of peace. The Doctor's hands were placed against him, the left spread palm flat against his chest and the right palm up, jammed between Sherlock's chest and his own face.
Sherlock smiled at the image, it was somewhat endearing. His brave, life saving, heart filled companion at his most vulnerable in Sherlock's arms.
After a while, Sherlock placed a delicate kiss against John's forehead in an attempt to rouse him gently.
It worked and John opened his eyes slowly, letting them grow wider and wider until he began to sit up. To the doctor's shock; Sherlock held his arms tightly around John's back, not allowing him to move.
"You are warm" Sherlock stated plainly.
John immediately stopped all movement and lay stiffly against Sherlock, embarrassed that he had sleep wandered.
"John, do relax, we are simply sharing heat. I am actually extremely comfortable" Sherlock stated calmly.
"Good for you, Sherlock" John huffed.
"Are you uncomfortable?" Sherlock questioned, an eyebrow raising high on his forehead as he looked down at his friend.
John mumbled.
"What?" Sherlock asked.
"No" John said again, relaxing his muscles onto the consulting detective.
"Much better" Sherlock mused as he shifted slightly and tightened his hold on the doctor.
After a long silence. John looked at his watch.
"Sherlock, its' 10:30." John said quietly.
"Yes, I am surprised at my brother" Sherlock mused with his eyes closed.
"Should we phone the renting company?" John queried.
"No, pointless waste of time. Mycroft will come." Sherlock dismissed.
"I've got to get up Sherlock; my arm has pins and needles." John said quietly.
Sherlock reluctantly released his hold and allowed the doctor to sit up, nursing his arm.
"Well, there are still no cars, and we are still in the middle of no-where" John said looking out of every available severely condensated windows.
"Dull" Sherlock grunted, turning on his side towards the seat backs.
John had the sudden and overwhelming urge to lie back down beside his friend, so he did, almost falling off the edge in the process he grabbed out and wrapped an arm around Sherlock's waist.
Sherlock swiftly turned over in one movement, staring closely at his best friend.
"What?" John asked rather flustered.
"John, would you indulge me for a minute?" Sherlock asked, his icy grey eyes roaming over the soldier's features.
"Indulge? How?" John asked wearily.
"I will invade your personal space for no longer than is necessary, call it an experiment if you will" Sherlock continued, propping himself up on an elbow to look down at John.
"I guess so….will it hurt?" John asked anxiously.
"Hopefully not" Sherlock said quickly.
Without further pause, the tall detective swooped down and placed a gentle kiss to John's parted lips. John immediately, caught by surprise, went to jerk away but found himself trapped as a long fingered hand was wrapped firmly in his hair.
Sherlock kept his eyes open as he grazed lips with John willing them to respond. John had no option but to receive his friends' kiss and after a moment, he realised how pleasant it was.
John was no stranger to kissing, god, if there was a law against passionately kissing three women a week, he would find himself in Alcatraz, but this, this kiss with his colleague, flatmate and friend was completely different.
It was warm, wet, needy and inexperienced, the scent of honey and sandle wood was filling his senses and the hands in his hair were sending all the right signals downward.
John feverishly kissed back, raising his own hands to Sherlock's face and luscious curls, running his calloused but skilled hands through the hair and across skin that had never been touched.
Without warning, Sherlock growled; it was a low rumble that expressed an animalistic desire and it went straight to John's abdomen. Giving him a thrill that up until now, was only achieved in situations surrounded by imminent danger. John found himself rolled underneath the genius as the taller man took over, straddling the Doctor and putting every ounce of concentration into their passionate kiss.
Suddenly, as though an invisible switch had been flicked, Sherlock parted from the Soldier and made a move to sit up.
John lay in disarray, his clothes crumpled, his hair adoringly disordered and his parted lips a rosy red.
"Good, John, that was, very good, thank you" Sherlock said breathlessly as he pulled his suit jacket around him snugly to button it seamlessly.
John's body was being responsive as he leapt to his knees and grabbed hold of Sherlock's blazer lapels.
"Oh, no you don't" John rasped huskily as he launched himself back at the detective's mouth, hungrily taking what he so desperately and subconsciously desired.
Sherlock barely had time to smile smugly as his lips were viciously attacked; he allowed the good doctor to straddle him and even assisted in keeping him in the sitting up position with two guiding hands on his lower back.
Before they could go any further there was a slight tap against the glass of the door nearest them. Sherlock and John broke apart with an obscene smacking noise and a string of saliva hung between them. John quickly dismounted the consulting detective at the sight of an amused Greg Lestrade outside the door.
"Lestrade" Sherlock greeted as he opened the door and let out a small cough to retrieve his voice.
"Lost are you?" Greg asked, hands buried in trouser pockets and a wide smile spreading his tanned face.
"Broken down, actually" Sherlock said with a polite smile.
John busied himself with fetching his phone from the passenger seat and turning it on.
"Ahh, stuck here long?" Greg questioned innocently, that smile still playing about his lips.
"Since last night" Sherlock said dully, now making a move to get out of the vehicle and don his coat.
"Well, you must have been at snapping point, sitting in the same vehicle all night…together" Lestrade said stifling a light laugh.
"Yes ok, Lestrade, you caught John and I, are we to be plagued by the constant sneer on your face or are you going to give us a lift back to the Inn?" Sherlock snapped, standing intimidatingly close to Lestrade's face.
Greg, seemingly un-phased by this threatening behaviour smiled widely; "Caught you and John at what, exactly?" Greg teased.
"You caught my Boyfriend and I in a highly personal act of passion." Sherlock said without blinking.
John dropped his phone.
Lestrade looked awestruck. "Boyfriend?" He asked, the smile falling from his face quickly.
"Boyfriend" Sherlock confirmed with eyes as sharp as ice.
Greg looked embarrassed. "Oh, right, I see. I'm sorry, I didn't know." He said awkwardly.
"Apology accepted. Now, lift…please." Sherlock said loudly, walking past Lestrade toward the abandoned silver car beside theirs.
John recovered himself enough to retrieve his phone and lock the vehicle, running across the road and getting in the back of Greg's car beside Sherlock.
During the journey back, Sherlock entwined his fingers with Johns and brought their clasped hands to rest on his own thigh, squeezing slightly in silent reassurance. They did not look at each other until Lestrade had pulled up outside the Inn. Sherlock swiftly untangled his palm from John's and approached the entrance to the pub leaving John in his wake to thank Lestrade for coming to their rescue.
When John entered the pub still looking somewhat dishevelled – it was to see Sherlock standing at the empty bar. Uncharacteristically, the taller man was leaning over the polished wood surface interacting with the short bar tender. Upon John's arrival at Sherlock's side, he heard Sherlock finishing off a food order and adding two drinks.
"Breakfast?" John queried disbelievingly.
"I think we've earned it" Sherlock said with a wide smile down at his companion. John couldn't help but smile in return as he awaited the hot plates and drinks.
As each ate, they snuck surreptitious glances at each other across the wooden picnic table in the sunshine. Sherlock felt surprisingly at ease with the morning's events so far, where as John's mind was positively reeling.
John had never seen Sherlock eat like this; he had only ever eaten when he was bored, and 'eating' was a loose term for it. He would grab convenience foods; toast, ready prepared sandwiches and Chinese take away; he would throw them back with force, washing it all down with sugar-filled tea & coffee.
However, watching Sherlock Holmes eat this particular English Breakfast – John was astonished to think that he was witnessing the sociopath actually enjoying it.
"Are you enjoying the food, Sherlock?" John asked with a coy smile across the table.
"Only the fact that you are watching me eat it" Sherlock said, looking down at his egg as he cut across it with his knife.
John's smile widened; "Maybe I should watch you eat more often if it will slow you down that much."
Sherlock squinted as he looked at John across the table; "You wish to slow me down?" he asked.
"Come on Sherlock, you usually eat like a gannet, just now you are eating like a…like a…" John stumbled, not wanting to voice the term he was fast approaching.
"Like a what?" Sherlock questioned dangerously.
"A normal person" John squeaked as he looked down at his food once more.
Sherlock looked furious. He threw his knife and fork down with a clatter and placed his elbows on the table surface to support his steepled hands.
"You are not anything of the sort of course." John hastened to add, glancing up at the icy cold stare he was receiving.
Without a word, Sherlock slowly lowered his hands and took up his abandoned cutlery once more, looking at John whilst he popped a corner of egg in his mouth delicately.
After a few minutes in peace the two men finished their meals simultaneously, but neither made a move to get up from the table.
"Sherlock" John started as he moved the empty plate in front of him and grasped his cup with both hands.
Sherlock looked up at John with a questioning glance.
"Why did you tell Greg that we were boyfriends? You do realise he is going to tell everyone in the yard?" John said in a rush, mixing his questions with glances to the table, the cup, his hand and Sherlock's face.
Sherlock smiled.
"He wouldn't dare" the consulting detective said calmly.
"Was it to prove a point?" John asked curiously.
"It upsets you doesn't it?" Sherlock answered with a question.
"What?" John asked, genuinely confused.
"What I said to Lestrade" Sherlock said as he folded his arms on the tables' edge and leaned over to look closely at his companion. "You wanted it to be the truth".
John gritted his teeth firmly with closed lips as he looked down and quickly up with a growing blush forming across his cheeks.
"Why did you kiss me?" John asked his stare now resolute as he looked into Sherlock's husky blue eyes.
"Experiment" Sherlock shrugged as if it was obvious.
"Was it really?" John queried harshly.
"John, I am not capable of a relationship" Sherlock said as he looked away, watching people milling about the pub entrance, readying themselves for a Hound Tour.
"I don't care" John said quickly, bringing Sherlock's eyes back to him. "You are the hardest man to live with, you are the most socially inept human I have ever come across, you are a liar, you are overdramatic, you are rude and harsh…" John smiled at Sherlock's hurt expression; "You areHuman" John said quietly; "but you areextraordinary." John finished, his smile spread; his pearly white teeth became slightly visible as he winced slightly into the mid-morning sunshine; "Sherlock, I have known you for over two years now. Mycroft tells me I am the only person to have stayed as long as that. We have a relationship; we just haven't recognised it for what it is." John finished, feeling less brave than he looked, he reached his hand out across the table towards the white skinned detective.
To John's dismay, Sherlock stood up from the table and swiftly adorned his coat.
"We should get to Henry. Find Lestrade, he can give us a lift" Sherlock said as he fiddled with the large coat buttons before he swept off into the pub.
A cloud moved across the sun above, John now sitting in the chilly air, his hand still out-stretched and his mouth ajar.
Sherlock stood at their twin bedroom window, watching as light rain began to fall. John had not moved from his position at the picnic bench outside, his hand was still reaching for Sherlock, his sandy haired head was bowed and his shoulders were hunched.
A twinge of pain shot across Sherlock's chest at the sight. It was his fault. All of it. If he hadn't acted on impulse, they would not be in this situation. Sherlock cursed lightly as he ran his hands through his hair. He began to pace, to and from the window in an agonised thinking process.
The rain grew harder against the window pane, and although Sherlock had a case that longed for him; he could not find the enthusiasm to go. This situation had to be resolved before anything else could proceed.
Flipping his mobile in his agile and skilled hand; Sherlock began to text;
'Come inside. I need to talk to you. – SH'
Sherlock stood by the window to watch John retrieve his phone and read the text through the rain.
When Sherlock did not receive a reply, he smiled and sent another text;
'Could be dangerous- SH'
To this one, Sherlock did receive a reply.
'If it's that dangerous, come out here to talk to me – J' Sherlock furrowed his brow, his confusion obvious.
'John, it's raining. – SH'
'The furniture might not survive the argument – J'
Sherlock froze as he read this message from John. The soldier was either expecting a fight, or a full blown plate-smashing argument.
'I simply want to talk to you. Please come upstairs – SH'
'Is there a dead body? – J'
'No – SH'
'Is there a case? – J'
'No – SH'
'Then why should I? – J'
'Because I want to kiss you again – SH'
Sixty-two seconds later there was a small knock on the bedroom door. Sherlock opened it with a flourish to see the soaking wet Dr John Watson on the threshold.
The puppy-dog eyes the shorter man was sporting was a little too much for Sherlock's restricted chest as he buried a forceful hand in the front of John's wet jacket and pulled him inside, slamming the door behind him and promptly pushing John against it.
Both men were breathing heavily as they closed the gap, feverishly kissing each other for the third time that day. John took advantage of this kiss, knowing all too well it might be their last; he reached up and grabbed a fistful of dark curls in his left hand and a handful of light blue shirt with his right; he tugged both simultaneously; managing to un-tuck the neat shirt and deepen their kiss. Sherlock let a breathy moan escape his throat as he closed his eyes and moved his hands to mirroring positions on the shorter man.
In a flash, John's hands were travelling up Sherlock's back, free of the confines of clothing.
"John" Sherlock whispered as they broke their kiss to rest forehead against forehead. "You are wet" he said simply.
John chuckled lightly, fondly stroking the side of the detective's face. "I can see why the Police call you." He said, receiving a light laugh from his breathless colleague.
John covered his face with his left hand and sighed heavily.
"What are we doing, Sherlock?" He questioned tiredly.
"You said we were already in a relationship, I was just clarifying." Sherlock mused as he allowed his own hand to travel over the shorter man's forehead and cheek.
"You will be my…boyfriend?" John asked meekly, his face displaying every aspect of hopefulness.
"On one condition" Sherlock said, leaning over John with icy eyes boring into his dark blue pair. "The term 'boyfriends'" he spat the word out distastefully "how about 'companions'? Or 'partners'?" Sherlock suggested.
John smiled; "Husband?" he questioned innocently.
There was a short silence between the two as they surveyed each other carefully. Slowly, Sherlock smiled;
"Husband" he confirmed with a curt nod before leaning back into John's grasp.
John moved up a reluctant hand and pressed firmly on Sherlock's chest, breaking the two apart once more;
"Sherlock, we should go and speak to Henry – " John started with wide eyes.
"Tomorrow" Sherlock said quickly against John's lips, unzipping John's jacket in one movement.
On the way home from Dartmoor, the two men called into a small registry office and made their decision final.
It was a few weeks before John presented the two simple silver bands to his flatmate. Nothing special was said and nothing romantic was done; the rings were swiftly admired and donned before a new client fell in the living room door.
The End