Disclaimer: Sherlock, along with its characters, location, etc. are the property of BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I do not own them, though I definitely wouldn't mind being on a first name basis with Benedict Cumberbatch ;)
Summary: AU sometime after season 4. John has moved back into Baker Street, and comes home from work one day to find Sherlock in the middle of a mental breakdown of sorts, but not for the reasons he would think. One-Shot Hurt/comfort, romance, angst. Johnlock ending. Rated T.
….
Meant to Be
….
It had been a long day for Dr. John Watson. He saw three sick kids, one couple who were getting into screaming matches about vaccinations for their unborn baby, and performed four prostate exams. Needless to say, he needed a rest.
As John got out of his cab and walked up to the front door of 221B Baker Street, he gave a happy sigh. Though he missed Mary, he loved living here with his daughter and best friend (though he wasn't sure where they were going to house Rosie when she grew out of her crib!) To top it all off, he even trusted Sherlock to take care of Rosie, with the occasional help from Mrs. Hudson. Never before would John have thought Sherlock capable of taking care of an infant, however he had been doing exceptionally well since the happenings with Eurus.
John unlocked the door and stepped inside, smelling the familiar scent of chemicals from Sherlock's experiments (safely hidden away from Rosie when she was around!), cleaning supplies and food from Mrs. Hudson's kitchen, and the faintest hint of mildew. Oh, how he loved this place.
John shrugged of his coat as he walked up the stairs, hanging it just inside the door when he got to the apartment. He kicked off his shoes and looked in Rosie's crib for her before realizing that Mrs. Hudson must be taking care of her. Assuming Sherlock was gone on an errand, John went to head back downstairs to get his daughter where he heard an odd noise coming from the direction of Sherlock's bedroom.
Curious, John tiptoed down the hall and silently pressed his ear to the door. He tried to decipher what he was hearing before it clicked. Was that sobbing?
John pulled his ear away from the door before gently knocking. "Sherlock?"
John heard Sherlock gasp and scramble. "John! I didn't realize the time. I'll be out in a moment." He rasped.
Not convinced that Sherlock was okay, John spoke through the door again. "Are you alright, mate? Can I come in?"
"I'm fine! There's no need for you to enter my room!" Sherlock called back. Yup, it definitely sounded like he had been crying.
"Can I come in anyway?" John asked. When Sherlock didn't answer, John took it as a yes and slowly opened the door, stepping into Sherlock's dark, almost pitch-black bedroom.
John automatically reached for the light switch and flipped it, shocked by the image that greeted him.
Sherlock was backed into the corner, blinking like a deer in headlights. What's more, his shirt was wet, his eyes red and puffy, and there were obvious tear tracks lining his cheeks.
John blinked. "Sherlock, are you okay?"
"I'm fine, John." Sherlock grumbled, reaching for a box of tissues and hastily wiping at his face. The problem was that he was still, unknowingly, crying.
"Sherlock…" John walked over and took the tissue box out of his hand, setting it on the dresser next to him. "Tell me what's wrong." He commanded, taking the tissue out of his best friend's hand and tossing it in the bin on the floor.
"Nothing, I'm – " Sherlock began to protest.
"No, you're not. Tell me what's wrong." John cut him off.
"It doesn't concern you, John…" Sherlock protested again.
"Of course it does. You're my best friend. If something is bothering you, especially to the point of crying, I want to hear about it." John took Sherlock by the elbow and led him over to the bed, unceremoniously pushing him down so he was sitting on the edge. He sat next to him and stared at him intently. When Sherlock didn't speak up, John started to ask questions. "Does this have to do with what happened with Eurus?"
"No, surprisingly." Sherlock sniffled.
"Mycroft?"
"While Mycroft can be incredibly irritating, he has never upset me this much, no." There was still a quiver in Sherlock's voice.
"Then what is it?" John asked.
"You're not going to leave me alone are you?" Sherlock sighed.
"Well, in reality I should leave you alone if you don't talk want to talk about it. However, as a doctor, and your best friend, I think you should tell me. I hope you trust me enough to tell me whatever it is that's bothering you. We've been through a lot together, it's the least I could do." John replied.
"It's not that I don't trust you, John. Of course I trust you, more than anyone. It's just, I've never told anyone about this, not even Mycroft. It doesn't usually bother me much, but I saw something in the newspaper earlier that reminded me of it, so I quickly handed Rosie over to Mrs. Hudson before I lost it." Sherlock explained.
John touched Sherlock's arm lightly. "You can tell me anything, Sherlock."
Sherlock sighed, stealing himself to tell John something that he had never told anyone. John waited patiently while Sherlock prepared himself, wondering what could possibly affect Sherlock this much.
Finally, Sherlock spoke. "What I'm…what happened took place when I was in uni. Some of the guys there found out…ugh, they found out I was gay. I know you didn't know that – " Sherlock started to explain.
"I guessed. Doesn't make me feel any differently about you, if that's what you're worried about." John interrupted.
"Well…thanks…anyway, these guys didn't like me to begin with, so when they caught me kissing another boy in the locker room they freaked. Started calling me names, knocking the books out of my hands, physically abusing me…" Sherlock trailed off.
"What did they do?" John whispered.
"Mostly they just pushed me into walls, tripped me, the likes. But once they shoved me in a locker and left me there overnight. That's why tight spaces freak me out so much…" Sherlock trailed off again. "The thing I saw in the newspaper earlier was about a homosexual couple having trash thrown at them when they showed up at a high school prom together. It just reminded me of when those boys left me in that locker…" Sherlock shuddered and lapsed into silence.
John refused to break the silence. He saw renewed tears running down Sherlock's cheeks and idly placed his hand on his back for comfort.
"Anyway, that's why I don't display any physical or sexual attraction to people. I'm not sexually attracted to women, and I've always been so afraid of what those boys did to me that I have never had the courage to admit my orientation. Those boys tormented me until the day of graduation, John. I will never be free of the fear that they established in me." Sherlock's voice hitched on the last few words, and he buried his head in his hands.
John absentmindedly rubbed Sherlock's back as he thought about how he should respond.
When Sherlock looked up, John still had a puzzled look on his face. "John, if you no longer want to be friends – " he started to say.
"That's not it at all, Sherlock." John cut him off. "I'm just trying to find the words I want to say." He paused. "I will never, never think any less of you for being afraid of those boys. What they did to you…" he paused again, trying not to show anger at the things his best friend had told him. "Nobody should be treated like that. Everyone deserves to be happy. You are my best friend, no matter who you love. No real friend could ever think differently about you because you're gay."
John reached forward and wrapped his hand around the back of Sherlock's neck, pressing their foreheads together. "Don't ever be afraid to display your emotions in front of me, Sherlock. I will never judge or torment you like those boys did. I would rather die than break you like that."
More tears streamed down Sherlock's face. "John, you have no idea…"
John shushed him. "There's no need to for thanks. Any decent human being, any decent friend, would say the same thing. I'm just sorry that it has taken so long for you to hear this from someone. I love you for you, Sherlock. Nothing more, nothing less. And I will never expect you to change or conform on my account. You're perfect the way you are." John felt tears struggling to escape his eyes, but he kept them at bay.
"I love you, John." Sherlock whispered through his tears. "No one has ever loved me enough to say something like that to me. Mycroft loves me, and I know he would accept me, but I was so scared…"
"Scared that I would reject you? After all we've been through, Sherlock, I could never reject you. Especially over something as trivial as sexual orientation. Besides," John tilted his face and kissed Sherlock, unbridled love and passion in every inch of the caress." When John pulled away, Sherlock had a look of disbelief mixed with ecstasy written all over his face.
"But…" Sherlock began to question.
"I am straight, if that's what you were going to ask. I am attracted to women. But you, Sherlock…there is something so different, so passionate, about our relationship that gender doesn't matter. You're everything to me, regardless of the fact that you are a man. It just doesn't seem to be important, when it comes to us."
Sherlock grinned. "John Watson, you are so…perfect. You are the kindest, most generous person I have ever met. You risked your life for your country, and when you came home you risked it for me. No matter what I did, you were always by my side when I needed you. I would move the mountains, part the seas, harness the moon for you. You are, and always have been, everything to me." Sherlock replied.
Now, it was John's turn to cry. He had tears spilling from his eyes when Sherlock reached forward and pulled John in for another kiss. This one was more passionate than tender, and soon John had his hand tangled in Sherlock's hair and Sherlock has his hand on John's chest under his shirt.
John pulled away briefly, gasping. "Sherlock, I love you."
Sherlock smiled. "I love you too, John. I think we are, truly, meant to be."