Not mine, sigh. Belongs to the bbc, writers ect who can actually lay claim. I'm writing for fun not profit.
For of Rooks and Ravens, as the review they sent was really inspiring and and made me want to write a darker sociopathic Sherlock. Sorry it's not the continuation of the tissues drabbles but this really stuck :)
-J/S/J/S/J/S/J/S/J/S/J/S-
LEAVING
John was going to leave. John, his John, his Watson, was going to leave. The one person who didn't get annoyed at his generally eccentric personality. The one who didn't spend time trying to change him, though had succeeded in some areas regardless. The one man that regardless of being normal was interesting. The man who had realised that he should be awestruck and not just irritated at the brilliance that is Sherlock Holmes. The one person whom he could tolerate as a flatmate, assistant and even in a friendship, strange as that term feels. The one person who loved him without lies and masks and even with all the body parts in the fridge was leaving.
John was at the door with a bag in hand and he was leaving. Who gave him permission to do that? He's mine. Moving in with that damned woman, didn't she get the hint that she wasn't welcome to play with my toys? Blast it she could have any of my other toys Anderson, Molly, Sally, even Lestrade. Any of the toys he'd broken, chipped or planned to but not John. Not his favourite. Not the one he wanted to keep whole. John was blathering something about relationships and closeness and the need to move forward in them or some such. The door was opening and when it finished John would leave and the door would close. Before the thought had even finished I felt myself lunge forward and slam the door shut. John started to turn probably to say something sharp about my behaviour but I wouldn't let that happen and pushed him sending him spinning. Back slamming against the door, eyes wide and mouth parting in a gasp, stunned just long enough for me to surge forward and kiss him. John was leaning back. No that was a bad thing. Don't give him time to think, to do anything. The following kiss wasn't gentle but that appeared not to matter as John groaned and leaned into my touches. Probably mistaking it for passion rather than just an attempt to distract him but judging from the reaction the kiss was achieving it's purpose. Yes the response was definitely a positive one, even with my little experience in this area that would be hard to miss. Though sex is messy if it would result in keeping John then it will be more than worth it. Pulling back and seeing a very flushed and slightly panting John sent a rush of adrenaline through my system at the realisation of the power that I had just gained. Yes this could work out quite to my benefit. I looked down at John I would need the full weight of my gaze for this to work. John for all that he saw the best in people was not easily swayed.
"Stay. Don't go", wrong tone. Too commanding. John's eyes sharpen as he began to gather his arguments, remembering that dull woman and pulling back. Not literally of course as the solid wood of the door made that quite impossible but I am most certain that 'pulling back' is the correct turn of phrase regardless of actual physical ability to do so.
"Sherlock. This, us, it", a deep breath. John's looking for something, hmm, oh.
"Please", a little more whiny than intended but effective. John's eyelids close, a sure sign of submission and so I kiss him again. I fully intend to to make him forget all about that woman and the bag and his leaving.
I do not profess my love and he does not ask for it. It matters little, but when he asks I have the answer. I shall tell him in a honesty that I love him. Just as I would tell my violin should it ever ask. Though I will probably say little more than that. I do love him, my most cherished possession and I shall fully ensure that his female is fully informed of this and much more. After all, I don't like losing.
Thanks if you manage to read this until the end could you maybe spend a minute dropping me a review just to let me know people read my stuff? Even if it's only to tell me to stop, please stop.
I want to write a happy (err ish) S/J fic but currently the idea penguins are feeling a bit dark.