So umm, I hope you enjoy this Story...It hurts, it hurt to write it and it hurts to read it. Please review, constructive criticism is always admired
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"Fine, Dammit, if I admit will you come back to me?" Nothing but silence answered. "I-I've fallen in love with you. I don't know how I couldn't have realized this before. I knew I liked you, I knew it, I just- I guess I couldn't admit it to myself. I'm sorry, I am very truly, deeply sorry. Sorry's won't get me anywhere now, I know that but it doesn't stop me from feeling sorry. You're gone and I can't follow you. I can't talk to you anymore, but that apparently doesn't stop me from making my feelings known to the silence that surrounds me. It doesn't stop me from writing it down in my own personal journal." Wind from the open window across the room blew into Watson's face as if saying I can here you and I want to make you feel better. John Watson arose from Sherlock's bed and walked over to the window. "You know Sherlock, the nights that I can't sleep, I sneak back here and go to your room. I lay on your bed and imagine myself laying upon your chest listening to your heart beat. I imagine your warmth as you wrap your arms around me, pulling me closer to you. I see myself turning my head up to place a kiss on your jaw. Then you move your head down to give me a chaste kiss. That would be a dream come true, but it'll never happen now.
God dammit Sherlock I miss you. I miss everything about you. God, fuck, do you see what you are doing to me Sherlock? I'm not me anymore. I'm not me." Tears began to fall down the doctor's cheek. "Come back to me Sherlock, do me this last miracle and don't be dead. Come back and make me whole again." The broken man turned from the window and walked back to his dead flat mate's bed. John sat down as he said, "Don't be dead, I said this at your grave, remember? I kept repeating it. I never thought you could die. It wasn't plausible, not from what I witnessed. In ever situation you could've died you always knew, you always knew the gun was fake, or they wouldn't shoot, they didn't have the guts to stab you out of fear of Mycroft, or what ever else. You always found a way out and I thought you were invincible. I really believe nothing could take down the great Sherlock Holmes, how wrong I was." The ex soldier fell back on the bed, the tears he shed burning his eyes, making him tired. John rolled over onto his side facing the window and took a deep breath, inhaling Sherlock's sent.
"You could at least haunt me Sherlock. Please just let me see you again. Come back to me. I'm begging here, and you know I don't beg Sherlock. What kind of psychopath let's his best friend beg? What kind of psychopath doesn't haunt his best friend?"
Watson closed his tired eyes until he heard a sound in the flat. He sat up instantly and grabbed his gun he always carried when he went to the flat. A tall familiar figure stood in the door way of the room and said, "I am a highly functioning sociopath, come on John you know better than to call me a psychopath." Sherlock walked forward and opened his arms to give the older man a hug. John dropped the gun in on the bed and walked up to Sherlock. As soon as they were close enough John pulled a fist back and punched Sherlock square in the jaw.
"How dare you do that? How dare you put me through that much pain and just expect me to be okay. You died Sherlock! You bloody died! Your body buried and everything. You let me believe you were dead. You put a hole in my heart. It felt like I was dying Sherlock, I was dying on the inside. Now you're back all of a sudden and expect a damn hug. Sod off!" A fresh batch of tears began to stream down John's cheek. Sherlock lifted a hand to wipe away the tears and John drew away from the taller man. "Don't touch me! Don't touch me right now." John turned his back to Sherlock while tears poured down his face.
"Well that was one of the 8 possibilities I was hoping didn't happen." Sherlock mumbled to himself. "Look I'm sorry John I was trying to protect you."
"Yea from what, and the answer better be good or I'm going hit you again." John choked out between sobs.
"I can't tell you John. I'm sorry." Sherlock dropped his eyes hoping John would just drop it.
"No, protect me from what Sherlock? Huh? What was so bad that you had to die to save me? Do you know what you put-mmm" Sherlock turned the smaller man around and shut the angered Watson up with a kiss. "What the bloody hell was that for?" Watson whispered in shock.
"Well it was to get you to shut up so you didn't alarm Mrs. Hudson and because, because I-I love you too John." The older man was stunned at the younger ones confession.
"Where's Sherlock and what have you done to him. I recall him saying love is a human error that he can't afford."
"Will you just take things for what they are John. I've been harboring a crush on you since we met, I just didn't want to admit it. Apparently you've been crushing on me for a while too." Sherlock said the last part with a smile.
"You heard that?"
"Of course John, and I've stored it away in my mind palace so I'll never forget." The doctor blushed a little bit. "Now can I have my hug, I'd much rather us hug than to keep this distance between us, it's killing me." John obliged to Sherlock's request. Once they were together John put his arms around the taller man's neck and got on his tip toes to give Sherlock a proper kiss. Sherlock shed his coat and skillfully removed his scarf while kissing his blogger. He bent down breaking the kiss to pick John up. John wrapped his legs around Sherlock's waist while Mr. Holmes held Watson's legs in place.
"I didn't think you could pick me up? Guess I was wrong about that too." he chuckled. Sherlock planted another kiss on his lips and smiled. He walked them back to the bed and sat John down on the bed. Their kiss deepened and the world around them seemed to fade. Lips parted, tongues collided, mouths were explored for the first time, and everything was perfect. John broke the kiss to catch his breath and realized that he and Sherlock were magically stripped down to their underwear. Sherlock went beneath the covers and invited John to join him. Once John was snuggled nicely beneath the sheets and comforter, the detective had Watson roll over so the older gentleman could hear his heart beat. Then John kissed Sherlock's jaw line. The dark haired man chuckled and turned his head down so a light kissed could be placed on John Watson's lips.
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John awoke because of the cold air that filled the room. He looked over at where his detective should've been. No one was there, there wasn't any signs of someone else being there. Watson looked down and realized he was wearing clothes, and he was on top of the blankets. The doctor's eye burned, "It was all just a dream, wasn't it?" The pit he felt in his heart deepened. "It all felt so real, everything. Damn my subconscious. Damn me for hoping. Damn it all." The tortured soul rolled over and curled up into a tiny ball. He waited for the tears to come, but they all dried up. No more tears could be shed for Sherlock, and that made it hurt so much worse.
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Sherlock listened to the words John mumbled. Every fiber of his body told him to go back in there, go in and tell his blogger that it was alright. Say that none of it was a dream. Most importantly Sherlock didn't want his love to hurt anymore, he wanted to see him happy again. But things still needed to be done, only a few more people needed to be stopped, and then his John would be safe again. When this was all over Sherlock could explain everything to Watson. He could sit him down and tell him why he did what he did. He would tell John how he managed to put his clothes back on without waking him. He'd tell him why he acted so out of character, and said things he wouldn't normally say. He didn't want to hurt John anymore, but he needed to see John once more before he left again. "It needed to seem like a dream, but I meant every word. I do love you John Hamish Watson," Sherlock whispered and then whisked away without another word.