Light from John's torch illuminated the walls of the train carriage as he searched in vain for the bomb. The terrifying thought that, hypothetically, both he and Sherlock could be blown up at any moment flashed through his mind as his anxiety levels began to rise. Fearing for his life was one of the things that John felt he could live without at this point in his life, but that was something you had to deal with around Sherlock. It came with the package.
"I can't see it- it's empty Sherlock." John said, turning around and dragging the beam of light from his torch onto Sherlock's form.
"You're just not observing closely enough John" he replied, focusing his own light source on a spot on the wall, revealing a thin wire secured to it. Sherlock followed the wire along, until it disappeared into one of the window side seats. Kneeling down he inspected the fabric covering the surface, gripped the seat from the front, and wrenched it upwards. With a ripping sound, it opened as if it were a chest. Inside, neat wires were connected up to metal cylinders, leaving a sinking feeling set inside John's chest.
"This is the bomb, John, the whole carriage itself" Breathed Sherlock, as he ripped up the seat next to the first to discover the same metal cylinders connected with wires.
The energy seemed to drain from John, and he grasped the pole next to him to steady himself. He watched Sherlock as he rose from his crouching position, and carefully began to walk down the middle of the carriage.
"You-you should probably call bomb disposal" John said after him, turning around to see Sherlock prising up one of the floor tiles. As it was lifted from its place, the glow of a light leaked out of the gap. Sherlock dropped the tile on the floor beside him.
"oh ff- Jesus, Sherlock." John choked out, feeling bewildered as he stared death in the face. The bomb's detonation and timer lay uncovered, from hiding below the floor. The counter 2:30 was unmoving, and the awful amount of coloured wires and tubes spewing out of its surface was enough to make even Sherlock rock back on his feet and breathe heavily into his fists.
It stated with a flicker, and then all of a sudden the lights surrounding the edges of the carriage woke up, and filled the space with bright white light. I clunk came from the bomb below their feel, and the tubes on its surface traded their inactivity for demonic red light, signalling the start. The clock read that the time remaining was shrinking, as the numbers began their countdown.
Sherlock groaned and leaned back onto a supporting pole, his hands forming his distinctive prayer motion as he pressed the tips of his fingers against his lips and closed his eyes.
"No, no- this isn't happening. This is NOT happening!" John proclaimed, as he stood staring over the bomb, its timer declining as fast as John's own distress increased.
"Please, for the love of God, tell me you can stop this." John spoke hoarsely "Sherlock, please, diffuse it". Sherlock's eyes met John's, who were filled with panic.
"I'm sorry John- I- I don't know how" he replied, his eyes glistening.
"No, don't give me this bullshit, I know you Sherlock, you've salted away every fact under the sun!" John's voice rose with anger, his desperation spilling over the edge of its barrier.
" I can't do it, I-I I don't know, please, John, forgive me." Sherlock stuttered, as he stayed in his position, resting against the pole for support. Sighing viciously, hands to his head, John's legs gave up on him, and he slowly crumpled to his knees. Sherlock's eyes rested on John's form, and he watched as his John let go of his emotions.
"John" Sherlock said calmly, without a waver in his tone to express his own dread. John slowly lifted his head to meet Sherlock's gaze.
"Go, just run. Leave now" Sherlock said, as he gestured towards the open door of the carriage. John followed his motion and glanced at the opening, and without a second thought replied "No. I'm not leaving you."
A single tear fell down Sherlock's cheek, as his released a faint watery smile.
"But if I'm staying, you can't just give up, Sherlock. Please, think, use your mind palace!"
Quickly bringing his fingers to his temples, Sherlock shut off the world outside, and immersed himself into his mind. Information flashed through his brain, all irrelevant. Just think, THINK, John had said, he needed to save him. Sherlock did not much care about how other people perceived him, or the impacts he made on them, as far as he was concerned they were just there, and that was that. John was different. He found himself using sentimental as a description for his feelings for him, as well as others. Sentiment is a chemical default found on the losing side, or so he thought. He realised that this wasn't quite true, not when it came to John.
Suddenly, ah. There we go. That's what he needed, of course there's an off switch.
"I can't- no- I can't" Sherlock broke free from his mind palace with a sob. If he was to get John to forgive him, not for his 'inability' to diffuse the bomb, but for leaving him at the rooftop those two years ago, he would have to lie to John just one more time. He needed to be forgiven, for his own heart to stop hurting.
Sherlock quickly bend over the bomb, muttering aimlessly under his breath. He indented to show panic to John, that for once Sherlock Holmes didn't, couldn't, stop this. Locating the off switch within a few seconds, he pretended to fiddle with wires, all the time breathing loudly and making incoherent noises, and switched off the bomb. The timer flickered between 1:29 and 1:28.
Sitting back against the pole, Sherlock let his hands shake, and breath come out in shudders. He tilted his head up to catch John with despairing eyes.
"I'm sorry John. I'm sorry for all the hurt that I've caused you, I can't diffuse it, I don't know how." He brought his palms back into their prayer motion and added "please forgive me".
John's bottom lip trembled as his took in the sight of Sherlock, small as a child, eyes tearful and wide, his face clouded with misery.
John took a few steps towards Sherlock, never losing eye contact. He stopped when he was standing directly in front of him. Gently, he lowered himself so the two could be at the same level. He couldn't stop the tears from escaping anymore, John let them fall. What's the point in holding it all in, he thought, I'm going to die, actually die in less than a minute.
"You were the best and wisest man that I have ever known. Of course I forgive you" John breathed. In one fluid movement, John leant into Sherlock, wrapping his arms strongly around his narrow body, and released a choking sob into his chest. Sherlock returned this welcomed embrace with his own, resting his chin on top of John's head and kissed it softly.
John let his tight grip on Sherlock loosen, as he pulled back to gaze into his extraordinary eyes, which were even more amazing than before as they gleamed in the light. Their colour was undecipherable, but defiantly beautiful. Always beautiful. His Sherlock.
He brought his hands up to cup the radiant face in front of him. If he was going to die, he needed to do this at least once, he thought. John leant in gingerly towards Sherlock's face, keeping the eye contact between them steady. Sherlock didn't move or protest at this. Go on John Watson, you fought in a bloody war for Christ's sake, he ordered himself. Finally, overcome with urgency and realising there was little time left he connected his lips to Sherlock's, at last. Sherlock's long arms came up to hold John, and pull him closer, crushing them both together. Tears mixed with small sobs that bubbling from John's chest as he continued to kiss Sherlock. Finally he pulled away, leaving a dazed consulting detective gazing into his eyes.
"I love you..." He murmured, bringing Sherlock into a tight embrace. "I don't want to die" he said in a trembled whisper into his ear.
"That's good, because we're not" Sherlock sighed into his hair, enjoying the close contact to John he's missed for so long before he realised he's been lying. John froze, his muscles tightening as the realisation dawned on him.
"What." John said coldly, as he attempted to let go of Sherlock. He wouldn't release him, refusing to let his John leave him, not when he'd just come back from the dead.
"Sherlock! Let go of me! What do you mean we're not going to die." Yelled John in the most commanding voice he could muster, trying to peel Sherlock away from himself. He was like a second skin.
"What I mean is that we're not going to die. Bombs have an off switch you know, I simply turned it off, it won't explode, we're safe" he replied, still trapping John in his iron grip like a vice.
"You- You lied to me! You lied to me! Why would you do that Sherlock, I thought we were going todie, you bastard!" He cried out, hitting Sherlock's arm in a weak attempt to release him.
"You can stop hitting me John, I'm not letting you go until you calm down" Sherlock said in his rich, velvety voice, chuckling slightly as John squirmed in his arms. "I didn't lie to you though, just twisted the truth slightly".
"That's the same bloody thing Sherlock!" John yelled, perhaps with a hint less aggression than before, as reality sunk in. He wasn't going to die, not yet anyway.
"Oh-Jesus Christ...I, er. I'm sorry about, oh god-um. I'm not gay" John managed to get out, as he remembered the events that took place just before.
Gently, Sherlock released John, and met his eyes with his own, "So you- did it not mean anything?" he asked, hurt lacing his words as he formed them.
"No, it- it did. I don't- I'm not gay, but it- you. You're different." Stuttered John nervously as his eyes dropped their contact with Sherlock and fell to the floor.
"You don't need to be nervous, John. I know you're not gay, neither am I. Putting labels to everything is just, so... Pointless" he replied, giving a flick of his hand to enforce his comment.
"So it meant something to you too? Or-"
"Of course it did, John." Sherlock cut him off, sending him a faint smile and releasing a sigh. "I love you too".