In No Time At All
Summary: There's not much that can happen in a matter of four minutes, but it's all the time Sherlock and John need in order to have their entire world shift.
Disclaimer: Of course I don't own these characters and I do not make money off of them.
A/N: Because we all know Sherlock told John that he loves him on that runway.
"There is one more thing I will say before…before I leave John," Sherlock narrowed his gaze, pools of liquid silver darting all over the features of the doctor standing before him.
The breeze flitted through John's aurelian hair, sending it into an eccentric dance against his crown. His cerulean eyes glowed in the brightness of the sun, nearly rivaling the color of the sky behind him. Still, with all of the words Sherlock had said to him, John could not bring himself to say what he truly wanted, no, needed to say. This was his last chance to tell Sherlock everything, to bare the true colors of his soul, and his mouth just would not spit out what his heart kept screaming at him to just say. He clenched his fists, his nails biting his palms. His adam's apple jumped with the force of what he had to say, but instead he forced his head to nod.
Sherlock smiled sadly. He shoved his hands into his pockets because he oh so badly wanted to reach forward and cup John's cheeks. He needed to smooth the pads of his fingers against the impossibly soft skin, feel the structure of his bones, and remember what it would feel like to hold his entire world in the palms of his hands, if just for a second. Instead he swallowed the lump forming in his throat. Sherlock could see that John was struggling to say something of his own, but Sherlock knew, as sure as he was of the pain in his heart, that John couldn't do it. Sherlock tilted his head, his lips turning up into a small smile, a real smile that only John was ever, and would ever be privileged to. His eyes crinkled at the corners, giving his face a youthful glow. He scraped the pads of his fingers against the fabric of his coat within the pockets, the want to touch John suddenly overwhelming now.
"I love you."
His voice was thick, wet with the tears he could feel threatening to fall. This was not like jumping into the air and flying away, this was a much truer misery. He was leaving to a sure death, one he couldn't think his way out of. He was comforted though, he had saved John and he had saved Mary. Charles was dead, his secrets safe, and Sherlock's final vow was upheld. Sherlock couldn't harm John anymore, not from where he was going.
John blinked. That was all his could do upon hearing the declaration. His heart lurched, pounding against his ribs, begging him to repeat those words back to Sherlock. He swallowed, his left hand trembling slightly, rebelling against the stoic force John was trying to keep up, trying to keep brave for Sherlock.
Sherlock saw the war in John's eyes. He knew he'd never hear the words from John. He took a small step back. He nodded once more, schooling himself back into a semblance of his own normalcy. He reached out his hand, saving John from further torment. He smiled, encouraging the soldier to take the peace offering. John looked down, stunned and relieved all at once. He took Sherlock's hand, smoothing his thumb over Sherlock's knuckles before the lanky man stepped back. John watched as Sherlock left, the feeling of never seeing the man again suddenly washing over him, making his knees nearly buckle.
Not even five minutes into his intended exile and Mycroft was annoying him. Sherlock stared at the annoying face lit up on his mobile screen and thought about ignoring it. He frowned, sliding his finger across the screen.
"What now?" he bit out, pressing the heel of his hand against his eyes, willing his emotions back into the tiny box in the corner of his mind palace.
Sherlock listened to Mycroft before hanging up with an annoyed huff. He pressed the cool screen of his mobile against his forehead, a muttered curse escaping his lips as he watched the scenery below arc and change as the plane made a u-turn. Just as the wheels touched down on the tarmac did it really hit Sherlock. He had been gone all of eight minutes, and just nine minutes ago he'd told his best friend that he loved him. His best friend who was married and with a child on the way, a child, Sherlock recalled feeling a bit put out, that John refused to name after him. Whatever Sherlock was about to face, did nothing to calm the sudden tap dancing of his nerves. The plane finally stopped near the beginning of the tarmac, Sherlock had all of thirty seconds to compose himself. He stood from his seat, smoothing his palms over the threads of his coat before ducking out of the plane. He tried not to look for John, tried to erase the last ten minutes from his mind because there was no way, given eight minutes to really process what Sherlock had said, that John would talk to him. He really did try hard not to look for John, but it was hard when the soldier was already hurrying towards him.
Sherlock stepped off the last step of the plane, just as John came to meet him, Sherlock blinked, "John?"
The shorter man shook his head, his lips turned up in a small, sad smile. He reached up, grabbing the sides of Sherlock's head and pulled him down. He crushed their lips together in a hard, bruising kiss. Their teeth clicked, noses crushed, and lips mashed painfully. Everything but John fell away from Sherlock. Too soon, however, was the pressure gone from his lips and he was left blinking down at the dazzling grin on John's face.
"I love you too," he breathed, pulling Sherlock back down for a softer, more loving kiss.
Everything in Sherlock's world narrowed down to the point where he and John's lips connected. There would be a whirlwind of issues for them to deal with when they came back up for air, but for right now, they were all that mattered. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, pulling him close, sheltering him from the oncoming storm. Sherlock chased John's lips as he pulled back; prolonging the time they had to be just them. They may have wasted years before, but from now on, all they had was their future stretching before them. Never before would Sherlock think that all it would take to completely change his life was four minutes in a plane.