Can A Heart Still Break Once It's Stopped Beating?
AN: Sorry, I was watching Corpse Bride and reading one of my fics when this came to me. Please don't hate me. Just a little one-shot.
The young man walks into the older Holmes' office first, ready to visit his brother after his three year absence.
"Mycroft." He greets in a whisper, voice huskier from crying.
"Ah, Sherlock. Tell me, dear brother, can a heart still break once it's stopped beating?" Mycroft asks coldly, looking up from the documents on his desk.
"Mycroft, don't." Sherlock tries to growl, failing miserably.
"How is John?"
"Mycroft." Sherlock snaps, glaring at his brother.
"Funny, you know. You fake your death in front of your best friend and the first person you come to see is me. Why?"
"I can't … I can't go back." Sherlock whispers, eyes cast to the floor.
"So it's true then. You love him. Such a pity, little brother. I thought I taught you better than that." Mycroft replies, standing up and moving around the desk to lean against it.
"Mycroft, I ..."
"Need me. Yes, I know. But, this time, I have to refuse. You created this mess, now you must fix it."
"I can't ..." Sherlock whispers, looking up at his brother with desperation in his eyes.
"Yes, you can. And you will. John needs you. And you need him. I will not continue to lie for you, Sherlock. It's killing him." Mycroft interrupts, his tone a mix of firm and gentleness.
"But how can I?"
"Face your problems like a man, Sherlock. Caring may not be an advantage but neither is cowardice. Now, if you don't mind, I have work to do. A car is waiting for you."
"Mycroft ..."
"Now, Sherlock." Mycroft replies firmly, leaving no room for argument.
x..x
The doorbell rings while Mrs Hudson is cleaning the dishes and she quickly dries off her hand before answering it.
"Sherlock." She whispers in disbelief, her face turning pale.
"Where is John?" Sherlock asks hoarsely, tears filling his eyes.
"You … You …" Mrs Hudson stammers, trying to calm herself. "You're a bloody cruel young man, Sherlock Holmes! Absolutely cruel! Poor John hasn't been himself in three years! How could you? Yes, well, he isn't here. He moved out. Got himself a very nice young woman and they're living together." She snaps, furious tears streaming down her face.
And in an instant, the landlady is sure she sees Sherlock's heart shatter in front of her eyes.
"He … He moved out? He's with someone else?" Sherlock asks softly, not meeting the lady's eyes.
"Sherlock, dear. Sherlock ..."
Before she can finish her sentence, Sherlock bolts down the steps, ready to search the whole of London to find his doctor.
The younger man doesn't know how long he's been running before his eyes spot the café across the street. He crosses the road and stops outside of it, staring in at the broken man sat gripping a cup of tea.
He rests his hand on the glass, debating whether to knock or just stare at his blogger. He takes a deep breath and turns to walk away. It's too late, after all, John has moved on, the least Sherlock can do is let him be happy.
x..x
"You love him." The young woman says softly, it's not an accusation, merely an observation.
Mary Morstan always knew that someone else had her fiancé's heart even before they got engaged, but she tried to ignore it. She put it down to grief, but two and a half years later and he still looks sad.
Of course, John pretends that he's happy, even pretends that he's over the loss of his best friend, but Mary knows him better. She knows the truth. John loves Sherlock Holmes.
"It's not like that." John replies softly, looking up at his fiancée with sad eyes.
"Yes it is. You pretend that you're happy but you'd rather be with him."
"I love you, Mary."
"I know. But not like you love him. Let's face it, John, I've been competing with a ghost … and I've been losing. You'll never be truly happy with me." She replies softly, which annoys John because she should be angry, she should be shouting but she isn't.
"Mary ..."
"John, it's okay, I understand. We tried but you can't let him go. And that's okay. I love you, John, and I want you to be happy." Mary smiles softly, gripping his hand reassuringly.
x..x
John's making a brew when he hears the letter box clatter, he walks slowly to it, picking up the note.
There's no address on it and the envelope is blank.
"Mary, were you expecting something?" John calls, despite already knowing the answer.
"No, dear, I wasn't. Why, what is it?" Mary asks softly, dragging the suitcase down the stairs.
John stares at the case, "You don't have to leave tonight."
"It's alright, Angela's expecting me now. The taxi will be here soon." She smiles, taking the letter out of his hands and pulling the note out.
She stares at it for a few moments before handing it back to John.
"It's for you, John. I'll be in the kitchen." She replies softly, walking away.
John just nods in reply, looking at the note.
Dear John,
I was asked if my heart could still break once it's stop beating.
The truth is, yes it could because you see, my heart never stopped beating.
Because my dear Watson, you are my heart.
And while you are alive, my heart will always beat.
It will always beat for you, even if yours doesn't beat for me.
A great man would fight for you, but a good man would let you be happy.
And for you, I will be the latter. I will let you go and live the life you deserve.
Farewell, my dear Watson.
Forever Yours, Sherlock Holmes.
"Mary!" John calls down the hall.
"Go on. It's alright. I'll let myself out." Mary calls back softly, picking up John's tea and sipping it.
John pauses, just staring at the letter in disbelief.
"Go, John! Don't let him get away again." Mary calls again, when she hears no movement.
John sighs loudly, picking up his coat before walking to the kitchen.
"I'm sorry, love. I didn't want it to end like this." He says sadly, kissing Mary on the cheek.
"I know, John. But no one can say we didn't try. Now, go on." Mary smiles softly, gripping John's hand.
"Keep the ring and … keep the house too. If you want. Either way, keep the money from them. Call it an apology." John replies awkwardly.
"There's nothing to apologise for, John. You can't help who you fall in love with. Now, go on."
"Goodbye, Mary."
"Goodbye, John."
John shrugs on his coat and opens the door, walking down the steps ready to find Sherlock. As he's walking, he pulls out his mobile and sends a message to Sherlock.
Meet me at Amaya Restaurant.
Twenty minutes.
Don't be late.
JW
MESSAGE SENT
After the message is sent, John shakes his head in annoyance.
He probably doesn't even use that number anymore. John thinks defiantly, shaking his head again.
x..x
Sherlock enters the restaurant, wondering why John has texted him to meet. Surely, he would prefer to stay at home and be with his fiancée rather than at an expensive Italian restaurant with Sherlock.
As he walks closer, he sees John sat at the bar, sipping his drink carefully.
Despite himself, Sherlock sniggers at the fact that John has a moustache before shaking himself mentally. Now is not the time for laughing.
"John." Sherlock whispers, trying not to let his emotions betray him.
"Sherlock. So, you're definitely alive then. Wow. I … don't know what to say."
"I'm sorry, John. I had to do it. Moriarty would have had you killed. I had to protect you." Sherlock replies hoarsely.
"Well, that makes sense … Listen, I need to say something. About your note ..."
"Apologies, it was foolish and I shouldn't have done it. Give my apologies to your new wife."
"Fiancée. And ex-fiancée at that." John replies sadly, looking down at his drink.
"She left you." Sherlock whispers sadly, he never meant to break them up.
"No … Actually, I left her. Well, we … left each other." John replies with a humourless laugh.
"I'm sorry."
"No, it's fine. She knew I loved someone else. She wants me to be happy."
"Oh ..."
"She knows I love you, Sherlock." John interrupts, looking back up at his best friend. "Funny thing is, she said it wasn't my fault. No blame. No guilt. Just … understanding. Mad, isn't it?" He adds with a small smile.
"She sounds like a good woman." Sherlock smiles back softly.
"Yeah, she is. And I had to go and fall in love with my dick of a friend. My not-really-dead friend."
"Oh. I didn't mean to ..."
"I know, you had to. And you know what else is mad? I'm not sure whether to punch you or kiss you." John grins, looking back down at his glass.
"I think the former would be more appropriate, given the situation." Sherlock replies honestly. "Though maybe not in a pub. The last thing we need is to get arrested."
"I think I would be the one getting arrested, Sherlock."
"I wouldn't let you go to the station alone, John. After all, you did punch a Super Intendant for me." Sherlock smirks, trying to meet John's eyes.
"Well, that's true." John grins back, "Christ, how do we do this? You've been gone for three years and it's like you haven't been gone a day. We really are as mad as each other."
"That's what's makes us great, John." Sherlock smiles genuinely.
"Let's go." John replies, downing the last of his drink and standing up.
x..x
"Do you still want to punch me?" Sherlock asks as they enter 221B.
"Well, I've not completely forgiven you yet." John replies, clenching his fists subconsciously.
"Get it out then." Sherlock says matter-of-factly, stopping in front of John and turning his face towards him in invitation.
"You really want me to punch you? In the face?" John asks incredulously.
"I thought you always heard 'punch me in the face' when I'm talking." Sherlock replies with a smirk.
"Son of a ..." John growls, punching Sherlock full on in the face.
"Very good, John." Sherlock replies breathlessly, trying to regain his composure. "Feeling better?"
John dives at Sherlock again and the younger man prepares himself for another punch. But what he doesn't expect is John's lips against his own; angry and forceful.
Sherlock instinctively wraps his arms around John, gripping him tightly until John pulls away.
"I love you, Sherlock, so bloody much it kills me." John replies angrily, tears spilling from his eyes.
"I know. I'm truly sorry, John. If there had been any other way, I would have taken it." Sherlock says sadly, looking John in the eyes.
"I wish you had." John snaps, rubbing his eyes roughly.
"Don't you see, John. It's me and you against the rest of the world." Sherlock replies with a smile, grabbing John by the arms again.
John nods slightly, "You and me. Always." He says softly, kissing Sherlock again.
"I love you, John. I have from the start." Sherlock whispers into John's lips.
"I know." John smiles, hugging Sherlock tightly.
Sherlock smiles softly, hugging John even tighter and breathing in his scent.
"You are my heart, John."
x..x
I've taught you well, dear brother.
MH
Mycroft smiles proudly as he sends the text, staring out over London from his office.
Indeed you have, Mycroft.
Thank You.
Give Greg our best.
SH
The older Holmes' smile turns into a grin as he reads his brother's message, turning to walk back to his desk.
"You didn't have to be so cold, you know. I'm sure he would have got there eventually." The older man says softly, perching on the edge of Mycroft's desk.
"That man would out live God trying to different." Mycroft replies with a smile, looking up at his lover.
"How long until he's banging on my door for cases, do you reckon?" Greg asks with a sigh.
"Oh, he'll be back on the job in no time." Mycroft replies with a soft smile.
"Better make the most of the peace then, hadn't we?" Greg grins suggestively, pulling Mycroft to the couch by his tie.
"Indeed we must." Mycroft smirks, collapsing onto his lover on the couch.