Stag Party Confessions
Author's Note: I wasn't sure if I'd ever write a Sherlock story, but this idea came to mind. Then I heard "Angel" by Sarah McLachlan and the opening scene came to mind and inspired the whole story. I wrote this before knowing if it was going to be spoilerish at all. Now I've seen the entire series (amazing and fantastic, btw) and there are parts of this that are spoilers, and I think a few more than I thought there were now that I've seen the episodes. So, yeah, spoiler alert if you haven't seen the episodes, and this is now definitely an AU, although I suppose if you really wanted to imagine this as a gap-filler, I think that could work as well, you'll know what I mean after watching the episodes.
Disclaimer: Obvious! I don't own Sherlock, Angel, or anything else. Credit for Sherlock goes to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, et al., BBC and anyone else other than me who does own them. Angel is owned by Sarah McLachlan, and/or whatever studio produced that song and album. I don't own anything, nor am I earning money. I've been informed, via email, that I should remove the lyrics before this story is deleted. I'm not taking credit so there shouldn't be a problem, but if there is, then I'll remove the lyrics. Till they make me, enjoy the story with lyrics included, because it matches the mood of the story.
It was late, very late, too late to be awake thinking of all the things that could have been, should have been, or wouldn't be. Too many possibilities, too many questions left unanswered, and not enough time to find the answers.
All that time wasted, things that should have been said, and some things said too late that can't be taken back.
John sits and thinks, worries, wonders and frets. His friends had thrown him one hell of a stag party, with too much alcohol, not enough food, and apparently the right amount of strippers, if his friends reactions were anything to go by. He could have done without the strippers, no matter how beautiful they were, but far be it from him to deny his mates the chance at the perfect stag party.
What surprised him even more was that Sherlock had shown up. True he was his best man, and best friend, still, after everything they'd been through, but this was so far out of Sherlock's comfort zone and far too sentimental, ordinary, and base for him. He was happy that Sherlock was there, though. However, that happiness was definitely nonexistent now.
John tried to think of how he ended up here, and why. Well he knew why, and wasn't he the one who was always telling Sherlock to mind his timing? And now this, tonight, of all nights, he had to end up here. The worst part, or the best part depending on point of view, was that he couldn't regret it, and he wouldn't change it for the world.
There was music playing somewhere, from a different room, that floated out one window and into his, or theirs, he should say. He wasn't really paying attention to it until the first few notes of a new song caught his attention. It was sweet and sad, melancholy and beautiful in a heart breaking way. He'd heard it before, but had never paid attention to the words until now. They fit far too well.
Spend all your time waiting
for that second chance
for a break that would make it okay
there's always some reason
to feel not good enough
and it's hard at the end of the day
He had had far too much to drink tonight, something he rarely ever did, and ate far too little, also something he usually didn't do, unless he was chasing Sherlock around the city. Although that had been different lately, so much so than before. Before, that's all he called it, before and after, he still couldn't name it, even in his own head.
He was getting caught up in the music, the words, in his own head, he didn't even realize there were tears on his face until he felt one drop onto his hand.
I need some distraction
oh beautiful release
memories seep from my veins
let me be empty
and weightless and maybe
I'll find some peace tonight
He hadn't heard any other noises or felt any other movement, but suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap around his chest, knees and legs cradling his body in a protective embrace. A soft kiss was placed on his shoulder above his scar causing him to shudder. Whether because of the significance of the placement of that kiss, or just the person kissing him he couldn't tell.
in the arms of the angel
fly away from here
from this dark cold hotel room
and the endlessness that you fear
you are pulled from the wreckage
of your silent reverie
you're in the arms of the angel
may you find some comfort here
"Stop."
"Stop what?" John was barely able ask, clearing his throat when the words came out strangled.
"Stop thinking, stop worrying. There's nothing that can be changed, and you wouldn't change it anyway even if you could. You don't regret anything other than the timing of this, and you can stop wondering about all the possibilities and what to say and what to do. There's nothing that needs to be said that we don't already know. What's done is done and I wouldn't change it for the world."
"But what about tomorrow? How do I face M-Mary? My god, I'm getting married tomorrow Sherlock, what have we done?"
He certainly didn't expect Sherlock to chuckle at that, he was about to reprimand him when Sherlock's response caught him off guard.
"If I have to explain what we did then you were clearly more inebriated than I observed, and based on your rather vocal expressions and name calling I do believe you were sober and attentive for every second." Another kiss was placed on his shoulder, the music still drifting around them now, before Sherlock continued.
so tired of the straight line
and everywhere you turn
there's vultures and thieves at your back
and the storm keeps on twisting
you keep on building the lies
that you make up for all that you lack
it don't make no difference
escaping one last time
it's easier to believe in this sweet madness oh
this glorious sadness that brings me to my knees
"My dear doctor, my blogger, my friend… regardless of what has transpired between us this evening you know I am rubbish at sentiment and conventionalities. You will always hold a special place in my heart, for you are my heart, and I yours. But one thing I have learned, even though it does not apply to me, is that the human heart has an amazing capacity. There is no limit to the number of times a person falls in love in life, and there are no rules stating that a person cannot fall in love with different people at the same time. You know in your heart and mind that you have always wanted to find a girl, get married, settle down and have a stable life. We both know that no matter how dangerous life gets and however much we both crave the adventure, you will still be happy with a quiet, normal life with the person who saved you when I was unable to do so."
Sherlock's voice lowered the longer he talked and if John didn't know any better he would say that Sherlock was preventing himself from crying through his speech. Only Sherlock could manage to deliver such a long winded explanation while they were both naked, and be romantic and analytical all while speaking that fast.
in the arms of the angel
fly away from here
from this dark cold hotel room
and the endlessness that you fear
you are pulled from the wreckage
of your silent reverie
you're in the arms of the angel
may you find some comfort here
you're in the arms of the angel
may you find some comfort here
John had placed his hands on Sherlock's arms the moment he felt them. As he listened to the last few lines of the song before it quieted down, and oddly enough whoever was listening must have decided to turn the radio off since it suddenly got quiet.
John turned to face Sherlock, just his face, and when their eyes met they could read the love and devotion they shared for the other. John would have loved to have figured this all out before, well, before, so that they could have had this much longer, but then he probably wouldn't have been open to meeting anyone and there would be no Mary. He honestly couldn't imagine his life without Mary now. They had been dating quite a while and he knew when he proposed what he wanted and whom he wanted. He loved Mary, still loves her, but now he can accept that he loves Sherlock, too. Always had if he was honest with himself. He just didn't know the extent and depth of those feelings until he was so inebriated that he couldn't control his subconscious mind and desires from being overridden.
Part of John wanted to go to Mary and confess everything, apologize and hope she forgave him and still married him. Part of John wanted to take Sherlock in his arms and never let him go, run away and leave the real world behind. It might be the most selfish thing to do, the most selfish thing he had ever done, but he wanted both Mary and Sherlock in his life now. He didn't want to let either of them go.
They shared a sweet, lingering kiss that lasted until they were a little breathless and their bodies were reacting once again.
Sherlock pulled John back down onto their bed where they showed each other what the other meant to them with every touch, every caress, every lick and every moan. When they finally came they couldn't help but call each others name, vows of love left unspoken, for there were no words that could fit this moment, no promises that weren't already known.
As John lay curled around Sherlock, silently enjoying being the one being held, he was just about to ask how they were going to face everyone tomorrow.
"Let me put your mind at ease and explain exactly what will happen in the morning."
He honestly still had no idea how Sherlock was able to do that. He chuckled at the thought, and at Sherlock's ability. Sherlock chuckled back already knowing what was going on inside his bloggers mind. And didn't that say just how intertwined their lives had become no matter what they had been through or what they would face.
"If I am not mistaken, which I rarely am," Sherlock began to explain, tightening his arm around John, using his other hand to rub John's arm that was laying across his chest. "Stag parties are usually the last thing in which a single man can do whatever he wants, or should I say whomever he wants, without repercussion. Although I understand that the bride to be can be just as carefree and loose as the groom to be, women have more tendency to get upset at the man's transgressions than she ought to, and doesn't appreciate being questioned about the same transgressions she has committed. I am sure that at some point in time someone will ask about tonight, and it is up to you what you want to say, but it won't be for a while. What with the wedding tomorrow everyone's thoughts will be on that and the reception, not on what happened at a stag party which everyone will assume anyway, the idiots."
John chuckled at that, and sighed, too, having to face the fact that indeed tomorrow was his wedding, to his fiance, a woman who meant more to him than everyone else, with the exception of the man whose arms he was in. The man that would have a permanent role in his life, no matter what, and that he just hoped that what they shared tonight wouldn't make him blunder and flummoxed every time they were living their everyday life working and chasing criminals.
"We will always be friends John, nothing will ever change that. I cannot promise to always be there, for if there is ever a time that I had to leave again to protect you I would not hesitate for one moment. I envy Mary in a way, for she will know what it feels like to hold you every night, to comfort you when you are down, to share your joy when you are happy, and to share your life. I can divorce myself from sentiment well enough, and the Work is still very important to me, it's just second to you. There is enough going on with my cases and the criminal world that I could not foresee being in a relationship at this point in time. However if I were to successfully be in a relationship, it would only stand a chance with you."
"I think you give yourself too little credit Sherlock. I realize that you don't let anyone into your world often, but when you do, you love them. You… saved us once for it. And even the person who… who you said didn't count, you were glad to have her help. You could be in a relationship with the right person anytime you wanted, and in a way, you are, we are. We are friends, and that's a relationship."
"You will never cease to amaze me John."
John glances up at Sherlock at that, certain that he has never heard Sherlock compliment him, at least since Baskerville. And from the world's only consulting detective, that's saying something.
Sherlock looks back at John and smiles, not a big smile, but a small, genuine Sherlock smile, a smile in which John is certain that only he gets to see. And somehow in that one smile, with the sparkle and emotion in Sherlock's eyes John knows that everything will be okay. It may take some time to get used to their friendship again, even with this new aspect being present, but he knows that as long as he has Sherlock in his life, in any capacity, he can face whatever life throws at him.
They lay back down, still intertwined, but more relaxed and at ease with each other and the whole situation. Although Sherlock will still never quite see what John sees in Mary, he understands enough about people to know the idiots they are because very rarely do people see in John what is there, as well.
"Tomorrow morning we'll take a taxi back to Baker Street where we will dress, then head to the church. No one will think twice to question why we are together, especially not since as your best man it is my duty, and honor, to bring you tomorrow. Everything will go as planned, and life will carry on as it always has and always will. I'll continue to solve crimes, you'll continue to blog about it, and"
They say at the same time "You'll continue to forget your pants."
Laughing ensues at this comment that leaves them both in tears, and if those tears happen to be from more than the joke they will never admit to that.
Once they calm down Sherlock can't help but add, "none of the imbeciles tomorrow, oh don't take it like that,"
"I know, compared to you practically everyone is."
Sherlock smiles tenderly again, but they don't need to look at one another to know. "Will know what transpired tonight, and I dare say the only one who might have any inkling at all would be Mycroft, and he wouldn't say anything."
"I didn't think you trusted him."
"I don't trust him, although he was rather indispensable when I needed him. I just know that he wouldn't want to do anything to ruin your day tomorrow. Not to mention he predicted something like this happening."
"He predicted that my stag party would end with us in bed together?"
"Well he probably expected it before now, but it won't come as a shock to him at all."
"Were we the only ones who didn't see it?"
"Well, I wouldn't say we."
"But, you mean you knew? I mean what you felt, had you already…"
"John."
"What?"
"It honestly makes no difference when I figured anything out or that I figured out how I felt about you before you did. It should not come as a surprise that I figured out anything before you could. Although if it makes a difference, I didn't even fully figure out what I felt until after I returned."
"Ta for that, how on Earth was I supposed to figure out how I felt…"
"When you were too busy denying being gay or being a couple?"
"I didn't, I mean I tried… when you say gay..."
"Oh good heavens John, think. Use that brain that was clearly working a little while ago. You're not gay, I'm not gay, hell, what does it matter what we are. No one needs a label, labels are just societies way of putting everything in a box so they know what they're dealing with and how to judge everyone around them. If you must give a label to what your are or what I am, I would say I'm more sapiosexual than anything, although I should go so far as to include demisexual or pansexual."
"Okay, of everything you just said and what I could reply to, you lost me at the sexual terms. Are those actual terms or are you just making them up?"
"I thought you were a doctor, aren't doctor's supposed to know this?"
"General practitioner, doesn't mean I know all about sexual orientation and behaviors."
"What would happen if an intersex patient came to you for a physical? Or a transgender woman who hadn't completed her surgery and still had a penis?"
John wasn't sure how to handle all this information, much less terminology and that his emotionally stunted, sexually repressed (or uninterested, he hadn't been sure before tonight) best friend knew more about sexuality than he did. Hadn't he looked this all up when Harry came out to support her when their parents hadn't?
"Perhaps it's time you research sexuality, orientation and gender identity again. Sexuality is much more fluid than anyone ever thought it was, and there are so many definitions it would be mind boggling to anyone with normal intelligence. It is necessary in my work to know all about sexuality and sexual behaviors. During this research I came across terms that I could apply to myself in case anyone decided they had to label what I find attractive."
"I guess that all makes sense. Maybe you're right about doing some research into this. I hadn't thought about how many different patients I see other than man and woman or gay and straight."
"Of course I'm right."
"Of course," John responds with a chuckle, "now care to tell me what those terms you used actually mean and why they apply to you?"
"I say sapiosexul first because that is a person who is attracted to intelligence over physicality."
At this John can't help but laugh before replying, "did they come up with that just for you? Seriously, a sexual orientation that actually specifies attraction to intelligence over gender or looks?"
"So my intelligence has nothing to do with your attraction to me and wasn't one of the first things you noticed that did attract you to me?"
With that John abruptly stopped laughing and blushed.
"I thought so. Carrying on… I would then say I was demisexual and/or pansexual depending on the person. There is a very short list of people I have been attracted to in my life. Pansexual refers to a person that can be attracted to any gender, not just men or women. It would not matter to me a person's gender identity or what body parts they had, so much as the fact that they were intelligent. I would say demisexual also, maybe less often than not, but more importantly. A demisexual person is someone who needs a strong emotional bond before forming an attraction."
"Less often than not? How many people have you been attracted to?"
"6, possibly 7, but that was only an attraction solely to intelligence, with absolutely no physical attraction attached to that."
"You can remember the exact number of people you've been attracted to… although that shouldn't surprise me with the memory you have, I suppose. What about the less often emotional bond attraction?"
"1."
"1, just 1?" He would have continued if not for Sherlock's grip tightening and glancing up to see Sherlock's face. Oh.
"Oh."
"I had known about the term demisexual of course, but until I met you, and everything we have been through, I had never thought to apply the term to myself. It also was not until I returned that I realized what I was feeling before and after, and definitely while I was gone, was attraction. Nor did I realize that tonight I would have one last opportunity to share this attraction with you. Although if you want to get even more specific as to the terminology each one of those terms can have sexual replaced with romantic, because not all attractions are romantic and not all romances involve physical attraction."
"Okay, that's even more confusing than all the terms that I'm thinking are possible. It's like dealing with phobias, if it exists there's probably a phobia."
"Or pornography."
If John had something to drink it would have just come out of his mouth and nose in a horribly messy and unattractive spit take. "I never would have thought…" he couldn't even finish that sentence.
"Oh, come John, you can't be that dense. I'm a 37 year old healthy male. Regardless of what other's might think or what my brother might hint at, I am no virgin. Not having sex and not wanting sex after experimenting and finding it messy and not stimulating enough to continue pursuing it are two different things."
John was torn between being jealous at those other idiots who had Sherlock as a sexual partner and clearly had no idea the gift they were being given, and trying to hold back a laugh at thinking about Sherlock in a situation where sex was involved and he thought of it as an experiment to observe and deduce instead of participate in. Speaking of…
"Well something must have changed, or your experiments found something, or, well, you seemed to enjoy, really enjoy, I think," he paused here expecting Sherlock to finish his sentence or interrupt, but based on Sherlock's face he was enjoying John's embarrassment over discussing sex. He took a deep breath and tried to finish his thought, while looking away of course. "For someone who thought of sex as an experiment and messy, you're uh, you're really good at it, because that was, I mean tonight was… incredible. You seemed to really enjoy it."
Sherlock could appreciate John's embarrassment, although he still thought it was unnecessary and ridiculous. He enjoyed making John work at stating all that. He had been slightly surprised that as a doctor John was not familiar with some of the sexual definitions, but he was enjoying this discussion nevertheless. Although John will undoubtedly be tired come the morning if they talked for much longer. Perhaps a little bit more explanation and then he could convince John to sleep.
He wasn't particularly looking forward to the following day, but it was for John, and he would do anything for John. He knew John more than well enough, and knew his morals and values so much that regardless of what could have been, John had been engaged before Sherlock returned and John would never break an engagement, especially an actual engagement to someone who John had already promised himself and his life to.
"I most certainly did enjoy it, and while I hate repeating myself, I will in this instance. I have experienced physical attraction, and have had sexual encounters, but it was not until I met you that I came to realize that I needed to have a strong emotional connection to someone to be truly physically and sexually attracted to them thereby enjoying sex. Perhaps it is similar for you. You might be physically attracted to women, and possibly are able to appreciate the attractiveness of some men, even if you are not attracted to them, but when a strong emotional connection is involved it makes the physical attraction, romantic attraction and sex all the more pleasurable."
And seriously, John thought, hearing that last line from Sherlock's mouth has to be one of the most erotic things he's ever heard. He won't dwell on the fact that he probably won't ever hear it again, or that this is his only night with Sherlock like this, or even that he'll be promising himself to another person tomorrow. He doesn't think he's ever had this candid a discussion with Sherlock about anything in all the time he's known the man. He doesn't know how long they've been talking, but he's sure morning will arrive all too soon, even if it was currently midnight, which he knew it wasn't.
Apparently Sherlock can read John's thoughts again because when John looks up at Sherlock, Sherlock is looking at him with a knowing smirk. They both move towards each other at the same moment, kissing like it's the last time because they know that it is. In the morning John will get married to someone else. Tomorrow they will go back to being just friends, albeit best friends. After that they will continue the friendship and partnership they have had for years, without the strain of the last 2 years. John and Mary will be happy, and John and Sherlock will no longer be accused of being a couple.
But tonight, right now, being in the same room, in the same bed, there was nothing stopping them from being together in a way that they both could now admit they had wanted yet didn't think they would ever have.
End Note: BBC's Sherlock quickly became my most favorite show on TV ever, the moment Sherlock said he'll start with the riding crop. Sleepy Hollow being my second favorite. Coincidentally, the main character of Sleepy Hollow, played by Tom Mison, starred in Parade's End with Benedict Cumberbatch. Anyway, I wanted to write a Johnlock story, but didn't want to cut out Mary or just pretend she doesn't exist. Moffat and Gatiss worked hard on representing SACD's Sherlock for the 21st century, and that would include Mary, but I won't mention what might happen for anyone who has never read the books. Please read and review, I would love to know how I portrayed Sherlock and John.
A quick apology: To any of my loyal followers who were expecting a Queer as Folk story, I won't apologize because Sorry's bullshit… and if you don't get that reference, it's okay, it's a Queer as Folk thing. I had to write a Sherlock story when it came to mind, but I will be continuing my QAF stories, eventually. I will never abandon a story, it just takes my muse forever to be inspired.