Disclaimer- Sherlock does not belong to me, I am not making any money off of this.
John Watson climbed into the shower as his best friend and lover Sherlock Holmes was in the sitting room filtering through their mail pile. It was an average evening in 221B Baker Street, Mrs Hudson had joined the pair for dinner and had just made her way back downstairs. It is December 28th and Sherlock and John have been in a relationship for two-ish years.
The pair had been best of friends since they were in high school, now they have both graduated and Sherlock has been accepted into Princeton, Stanford and Harvard university because of his brilliant mind and his outstanding smarts in the sciences. John was signed up for an internship at Bart's hospital in London to complete his medical degree and become a doctor, but John just wasn't sure that that is what he really wanted to do. So with some thought John sent off an application to join the Army to complete his medical degree by becoming an Army doctor abroad. Becoming a solider would be dangerous, but John didn't mind, he only worried about what Sherlock would say, he hadn't told him yet.
After John finished his shower he changed into loose fitting trousers and his tan jumper, walking into the sitting room he discovered Sherlock sitting on the edge of his chair reading a letter. Walking closer to Sherlock, John read over the young genius' shoulder and discovered that the letter Sherlock was holding was his acceptance letter for the Army.
"S-Sherlock" John stuttered, shit, he wasn't suppose to find out this way. Looking up, Sherlock opened his mouth to say something but ended up closing it again and looked back down to the letter, that wasn't good thought John. He had never seen Sherlock speechless before.
"I was going to tell you Sherlock," said John, not really knowing what else to say.
"When? When it was too late? A week after you left? When are you leaving John?"
Swallowing John slowly answered Sherlock's question "deployment for new recruits is January 17th."
Not looking up Sherlock just nodded "less than a month. Why didn't you tell me John?"
Sighing, John got onto his knees in front of the genius and took the letter from Sherlock's hands dropping it to the floor. Flicking his eyes up to Sherlock's, John reached up and took a hold of the genius' chin and raised his head so he could look into his eyes as he spoke. "Because I knew you would of done everything in your power to keep me here in London, you would of gotten your brother to pull some strings or talked me into changing my mind," John explained.
Sherlock didn't say anything because he knew it was true, he would have done anything.
Continuing, John explained his reason for wanting to join the Army, ''I wouldn't be happy if I stayed here Sherlock, this is a fantastic opportunity for me, I can serve my country and learn at the same time. I can see the world Sherlock, if I stay here I'll be stuck in a tedious job at Bart's, dealing with sick kids and prescribing antibiotics and giving tetanus shots, stitching up drunk people who fall over in the streets after late Friday nights. It will take me years of endless study, late nights and following doctors around hospitals being an intern before I can become a doctor working in surgery. With this I can get the title of doctor in a single tour." Dropping Sherlocks chin, John took Sherlocks hands in his own, entwining their fingers. "I'll only be gone four years Sherlock, you will be away at university, hardly even know I'm gone."
Dropping his eyes Sherlock asked John in a small voice, "are you not happy here John? Are you not happy with me?"
Slightly taken aback John quickly reassured him, "of course I am Sherlock, don't even doubt that. I love you, you silly git."
"Then why are you leaving me John?"
"Oh Sherlock," John said quietly, "I'm not leaving you, I'll still be here, kind of. I'll write to you everyday and we can Skype as much as possible."
"It won't be the same," Sherlock said sadly and John just laid his head down in the genius' lap not saying a thing.
The pair sat in that position until it was completely dark outside of the flat. Sherlock broke the silence first "can't you just be miserable at Bart's John?"
John shook his head "no, I can't."
"Why not?" Asked Sherlock and John just shook his head again, "please don't start" John pleaded.
"Start what?"
"Trying to convince me to stay, I've made up my mind Sherlock, end of discussion," getting up off his knees, John shook out his legs one by one shaking out the pins in needles that he had gotten from kneeling in front of the genius for too long. "Now come to bed," John smiled lustful, "I overheard some girls on the tube this morning talking about something that I wouldn't mind trying on you." With that John turned and headed for their shared bedroom down the hall.
Sherlock sat on the edge of his chair for a few more minuets before curiosity got the better of him and followed John to the bedroom.
They never spoke of Johns deployment again until there was only one day left. John had started to pack and the genius just sat on his side of the unmade bed, the sheets were still tangled from the previous nights activity, and just watched John filter around the room collecting clothing and a few other possessions. John folded his clothes neatly into a duffel bag and pretended to not feel Sherlock's eyes following his every move.
Taking out his old Polaroid camera from the back of the wardrobe, John turned to Sherlock who made no objection about seeing the camera, deducing earlier from Johns lingering looks on a few of the framed photographs of the two of them that were around the flat that the man would want to take a photograph of Sherlock away to war with him.
Slowly walking closer to Sherlock, John lifted the camera to his face and took a photograph, capturing and preserving the moment forever. Once the photo was developed from the camera John took a gentle hold of it and fanned it for a brief moment before studying it.
Sherlock's feet were dressed up in Johns favorite pair of fluffy green socks, his long legs were clad in loose fitting, light blue trousers, he wasn't wearing a bed shirt and his navy blue dressing gown wasn't tied and it had fallen off of his right shoulder. Sherlock's chest was exposed and John could make out a purple bruise and teeth marks on the strip of exposed skin on his neck from where John had bit him during rough sex a few days ago. Sherlock was sitting with his knees bent leaning against the head board, his curly dark hair was wild and slightly greasy, but the most amazing thing about the photo was the small smile that was etched onto the geniuses bow lips. The fact that Sherlock had managed to smile for John made his throat close and tears spring to his eyes. John looked into the genius' eyes in the photograph and noticed that the smile did not reach them, this only made the tears that had pooled in Johns eyes tip over and streak down his checks.
Slightly blinded from his tears John was slowly able to tuck the photograph of Sherlock safely into his duffel. Setting the camera down at the foot of the bed, John crawled over to the genesis' and sat in his lap, pressing his face into his neck John drew in deep slow breaths, Johns tears made the hallow of Sherlock's throat slightly damp, but he didn't mind, Sherlock only wrapped his long arms around John and pulled him tighter against his chest. The pair spent a quiet day at the flat just happy to be in each others company and they made love well into the night.
In the morning they shared a shower and ate breakfast with out speaking, as it was getting nearer the time for John to head to the airport to catch his plane, Sherlock took a hold of Johns hand and wouldn't let go. John holding his duffel in one hand and the genius in the other, he said his goodbyes to their land lady Mrs Hudson and then hailed a cab.
Sherlock over the last month had collected every piece of data on John and had committed it to his memory. The way Johns eyes crinkled when he smiled, his laugh, his face during climax, the way he tastes and smells, his warmth, his height, weight, favorite item of clothing, shoe size, favorite type of tea and jam. Sherlock was going to miss John, and he hopped that his best friend and lover would come back to him.
Paying the driver, Sherlock and John climbed out of the taxi and walked into the airport. It was busy, there were family's and business men, children and elderly, loners and groups. Everyone was either coming or going, delayed or waiting for a flight to come in, Sherlock could tell you the life story of every single person in the entire airport by deducing them, but he couldn't, he felt sick, griping Johns hand tighter he walked closer to John, hoping to feel his warmth as their shoulders brushed, but he didn't.
Sitting down in a row of chairs, John decided that it was probably about time to say something, "Sherlock?"
Taking his eyes of the departure time board Sherlock turned to John, "yes?"
John licked his lips and made the genius promise not to do anything stupid while he was gone, like do drugs or murder somebody. "I want to come back to you Sherlock, not some drug addict or have to visit you in prison, please Sherlock, for me?"
"Okay John" Sherlock replied.
John smiled and leaned in to kiss the genius lightly on the lips, "thank you Sherlock."
"On one condition," Sherlock said after a few more minuets of watching Johns flight get closer and closer to the top of the departure board. "I need you to come back to me alive John," Sherlock whispered.
"I'll do my best Sherlock, I promise" John replied and brought his lover into a tight hug. Sherlock hugged back and squeezed tight as Johns flight was called over the loud speakers.
"Please don't go John," whispered Sherlock as John stood pulling the genius up with him as he was still squeezing the man tight.
"I have to Sherlock," John said and kissed the genius on the lips once more before stepping out of the genius' embrace, "I love you," John declared.
"I love you to John" Sherlock choked out as Johns flight was once more called out over the loud speakers. Wrapping his arms around his chest, Sherlock watched as John turned and walked away from him and towards his boarding gate. Sherlock stayed and watched Johns flight take off, hopping it would turn around so John would come back to him. But it never did.
SHSHSHSH
Roughly three years later Doctor Captain John Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers returned from the war. John was honorably discharged after being shot in the shoulder trying to save a man in his unit, now John was back in London on his way home to 221B Baker Street to surprise Sherlock who was home from university for the holidays.
John had kept his word and had written to Sherlock everyday and the pair Skyped occasionally. John would write about what it was like stitching up bullet wounds and the fright he felt when his unit was ambushed and fired upon, he described what it was like to feel the life of a friend slip through his fingers. He talked about the red sky mornings and the red sky evenings. He talked about the hot sand and how the photograph he took of Sherlock was always tucked safely in his uniform breast pocket underneath his bullet proof vest.
Sherlock usually replied to Johns letters, he had started working for the police, he has titled himself the worlds only consulting detective. Sherlock hadn't received a letter from John in three days and he was currently denying Detective Inspector Lestrade's request for helping out on another case because he couldn't think straight. Sherlock had no way of knowing if John was still alive, Sherlock was worrying himself sick when he heard his land lady Mrs Hudson open the door for someone downstairs. An excited shout filtered up the stairs and Lestrade raised an eyebrow, two sets of foot steps started coming up the stairs, one set obviously belonged to Mrs Hudson but Sherlock didn't recognize the other set, probably someone for Lestrade then. Although that didn't explain Mrs Hudson's excited squeal from earlier.
Unable to concentrate on the unfamiliar foot steps any longer Sherlock started to pace the room. When Mrs Hudson entered the room Lestrade stood up to meet the new man, holding out his hand Greg greeted "Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade," John smiled and shook the D.I's hand "Sherlock's told me so much about you, John Watson, it's a pleasure to meet you." Sherlock spun around at the sound of Johns voice, relief spread over Sherlock as he flung himself at the Army doctor.
"John!" Shouted Sherlock as he wrapped his arms around the doctors neck.
John winced slightly as the consulting detective bumped the stitches in his shoulder, "Sherlock" John replied his voice full of love and wrapped his arms around his waist.
"You're alive" Sherlock said happily, "of course I'm alive you silly git, I promised, didn't I?"
Sherlock grinned and nodded and proceeded to snog the doctor breathless in front of the land lady and the D.I.
Lestrade cleared his throat and John pulled away from Sherlock, catching his breath he apologized and tried to will the flush on his face away.
"What are you doing here John? You still had 241 days left of your tour," asked Sherlock pulling back from John. Noticing the cane and the way John held him self Sherlock deduced that he had a psychosomatic limp, that would explain why Sherlock couldn't recognize his foot steps on the stairs, and he had been wounded. "Where are you wounded?"
"My shoulder" John said simply, knowing Sherlock would be able to deduce everything else about it.
"Tour?" Lestrade asked puzzled,
"Yes, Doctor Captain John Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers." Sherlock said proudly.
"Wounded in the line of duty and not ever going back again" John added.
Sherlock's grin got wider and he hugged Johns waist, pressing his face into Johns chest Mrs Hudson patted him on the back and made her way back down stairs, "its nice to have you finally home dear" she said as she descended the stairs.
"Thank you Mrs Hudson" John replied politely.
"I didn't know you were in a relationship Sherlock," Lestrade said blankly, a little in shock of the entire situation.
"You didn't mention me?" John asked Sherlock a little hurt.
Sherlock just shook his head that was still pressed against Johns chest, "why not?"
"None of the Yards business," mumbled Sherlock and John smiled weakly and told Lestrade that him and Sherlock had been together five years
"Wow" Lestrade exclaimed.
"That is enough of our personal life John, I still want to remain some what mysterious at work. Lestrade, regarding the case you asked me about before John got home, you should arrest the mother, if she has the entire collection of the Harry Potter books with pages 2 and 46 ripped out of each book, she is your killer."
"Whats the significance of pages 2 and 46" Lestrade asked as Sherlock pushed him towards the door.
"Make Anderson figure it out" Sherlock spat and he slammed the door on Lestrade's face.
"That was rude Sherlock," John said as Sherlock made his way back over to where John was standing.
"I needed him out so I could do this again" leaning in Sherlock kissed John on the lips again. Johns lips were almost how Sherlock remembered, they were more chapped than they use to be. Probably because of the dry conditions in Afghanistan. Parting Johns lips with his tongue, Sherlock explored Johns mouth, delighted at the moan that rose in Johns throat. "Welcome home John," Sherlock said as he kissed his way across Johns jaw and down to his throat to see if he still tasted the same.
Sherlock and John spent the next few days making up for lost time in the bedroom.