You I Know
In seconds he was pinned to the wall, a forearm pressed with dangerous lightness against stretched jugular. There was no struggle. As the taller man gazed down at the up-turned face before him, clear, calm eyes met his, not a tremor of fear marring strong features.
"I am not a nice person, John." The words broke low and honest, fierce and defiant.
"No, you are not."
Despite everything, Sherlock's stomach sunk at the admission. He made to pull away, flee the scene, but suddenly John's strong hands were gripping his shoulders, holding him fast, preventing his escape.
"You are not a nice person, Sherlock."
The detective watched, incredulous, as a fond smile spread across the other mans features.
"But you are a good one."
Eyes of blue fire raised to silver, which were in turn unable to resist blue's sweet kiss, placed gently upon trembling lips.