I do NOT own any Sherlock characters!
"I need you to assist me with something." Sherlock's voice wafted from the kitchen. John popped his head in, an eyebrow raised.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yes. An experiment." Sherlock said briskly, pulling up a chair and patting it, indicating him to sit down. John gazed warily at him, an uncertain feeling churning in his stomach.
"Wh…. What kind of experiment?"
"I can't tell you." Sherlock said.
"Then what's the point of me doing the experiment if you can't tell me?" John asked, annoyed.
"It will invalidate the whole thing." Sherlock said simply. John sighed, his shoulders arching up towards his neck before he nodded and sat down.
"Okay, what do I do?"
"Stay here. And sit." Sherlock turned his chair so he was face to face with John, their knees almost touching.
"Okay, and…" John prompted.
"You are going to look into my eyes. And you will not look away until I say that you can. You understand?"
John was taken aback but nodded.
"Good. And when you are looking at them, imagine the person that you love. Imagine that you are staring right at the person you love the most. Perhaps your late mother, or sister, or one of your irritating girlfriends." Sherlock snorted but plowed on, "And let everything else melt away, and just look into my eyes."
John shifted a bit in his chair then locked eyes with The Detective.
"Are we supposed to say anything?" John said, looking into Sherlock's eyes.
"No. Absolute silence is key." Sherlock replied. John nodded and then tried to think of the person that he loved, or cared about. But all he could see were Sherlock's stunningly sea green eyes. They seemed to deepen the longer John gazed into them. Those eyes…. They were so clear and bright, conveying more emotion then John had ever seen his flat mate give. It was as though, looking into his eyes, John could see everything Sherlock was thinking. And, John thought curiously, Sherlock seemed to look into John's heart as well. And that's when it suddenly hit him- that he couldn't think of anyone to fill Sherlock's place, because he wanted to see Sherlock. Because John loved Sherlock more then anything in the entire universe.
He loved Sherlock more then all of the stars that shone in the sky, and this revelation his John like a smack in the chest. For Sherlock Holmes was the man John would die for over and over. He would wait for Sherlock, for three years knowing he wasn't dead, but just lurking out of sight. He believed in Sherlock and didn't want to stop looking into those beautiful eyes because it was the most important thing in the universe. John felt lost looking into those eyes, his head now spinning with constant thoughts, that all lead back to Sherlock.
"Okay John, thank you." Sherlock said, looking away and flashing one of his half smiles. John seemed to be snatched back to reality and he gazed at the Detective in bewilderment as he went on, "I was trying to test your true and raw human emotions to see if they came to the surface when you thought of someone you loved and it seems as though I was-"
But John was kissing him before he could finish his sentence. Sherlock nearly fell off of his chair in surprise but John grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer. Sherlock's hands were flailing around but they seemed to land on John's back, and Sherlock then melted into John as he kissed him harder. John's hands had seized the back of Sherlock's head and he pulled him down, his fingers entangled in his tufts of black curls. John's tongue darted to Sherlock's lips, telling them to part. Sherlock complied, and their warm saliva ran through each other, making it feel hot and damp against each other.
Sherlock's hands them began to move down John's back, rubbing circles in his back while John clenched his hair. They stayed like that for longer then seemed possible, kissing with warm tongue's darting in and out of their mouths. John broke away, gasping for breath. Sherlock followed suite, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion and surprise.
"Well…" Sherlock panted as John stood there, his hands still on Sherlock's shoulders, "That was not what I expected to come from this experiment."
"Yeah…" John said, dazed at what he had just done.
Sherlock cleared his throat uncomfortably, shooting fervent glances John's way. John looked up back into Sherlock's eyes and then chuckled, "Wow."
"Indeed." Sherlock agreed. "Was there any alternative motive to your actions John, or…" Sherlock trailed off, waiting for an answer.
"I think you are really attractive." John replied out of the blue, placing a hand on Sherlock's chest, "and I'm bloody crazy for you."
Sherlock actually cracked a smile at that and replied in his deep vibrato, "John Watson. You are a mystery that I don't believe I will ever solve."
John laughed and walked toward the counter asking, "Tea?"
"Do you really believe I want tea at a time like this?" Sherlock asked as John turned to grin at him.
"Or we could just go sit on the couch and watch crap telly." John said. Sherlock nodded and then traipsed off to the living room, Sherlock absentmindedly grasping John's hand. John smiled but didn't say anything. John sat down with Sherlock and grabbed the remote, flicking the TV on.
"I think Doctor Who's on tonight." John said lightly. Sherlock replied with a low 'mmm' and John turned to see the Detective gazing at him, an almost appalled expression fixed on his face.
"You okay?"
"How could someone who is so brilliant, love a man like me?" Sherlock asked as though he didn't hear him.
"I was going to ask you the same thing." John said, then added gently, "We are both foolish men who found each other."
Sherlock hummed his agreement and John laid his head on Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock's hand moved to his hair and he stroked it gently as they sat together on the couch. Soon enough, John was asleep in Sherlock's arms, Johns breathing matching his own. Sherlock smiled down at the doctor and soon enough, he was asleep as well.
…..
The next day dawned bright and chilly, but a weak sun shone through Baker Street's window and onto the couch where two men lay, fast asleep. There was a quiet knock on the door and Mrs. Hudson stumped into the room and stopped short when she saw Sherlock and John. Her mouth tugged into a wide smile and she giggled slightly, leaving the room. However, Sherlock's eyes fluttered open at the sound of the landlady's retreating footsteps. He lifted his head slightly and blinked, looking around. Sherlock looked down to see John still sleeping soundly on his chest. Sherlock adjusted his position slightly and blinked the sleep out of his eyes.
Stroking his hair, Sherlock looked on as John slept, smiling slightly. The nights events were whirling through his head, making Sherlock dizzy. A few minutes later, Sherlock felt John stir under him and he moved his hand as John sat up. He looked blearily up at him, then he broke into a smile.
"Morning love." John sighed, arching his back and stretching.
"Morning John." Sherlock smiled, then disentangled himself from John and headed off to the kitchen. "Tea and scones?"
"You read my mind." John grinned , standing up and following him to the kitchen.
"You know something John?" Sherlock hollered from the kitchen.
"Yes Sherlock?" John replied, grabbing an old cup of tea and dumping it out in the sink.
"I want to do things with you. I want to go places and see things with you."
"Really?" John asked, "I didn't peg you for the sight-seeing type."
"Well, maybe I've changed." Sherlock replied thoughtfully.
"You can't change overnight."
"Unless you've just been snogged by your flat mate." Sherlock amended. John snorted his laugher then heard Sherlock behind him.
"I also want to grow old with you."
"Oh Jesus, your going to be a wanker when your 80." John replied, glancing at Sherlock. "Add age to what ever you are now." He gestured to him with a hand.
"But you will keep me sane, wont you John."
"Of course. You would be lost without your blogger."
"Too true." Sherlock replied, pecking John on the cheek.
"Oh." Sherlock said suddenly, turning to look into the cabinet. It was completely empty.
"No tea?" John asked, joining him.
"No tea." Sherlock answered, glancing at John hopefully who huffed out a breath.
"You want your new snogging mate to go and get you more tea do you?"
"Your not my snogging mate" Sherlock said icily, "You're my boyfriend."
"Oh?" John said, taken aback, "Is that right?"
"Yes. And I can send my boyfriend off on missions for tea anytime I like." Sherlock replied, his lip curling at the look on John's face.
"Alright, alright. I'll go. But you have better have had those scones made by the time I get back!" John said, smacking his arse and leaving the flat.
Out on the street, John decided to walk to the store, it being only a mile or so away. He headed down the street, his mind racing. Not even 24 hours before, he had kissed Sherlock Holmes. Less then a day ago, John Watson had snogged the insane, genius, bloody brilliant, yet sociopathic Sherlock Holmes. And what was more, Sherlock had called him a boyfriend. What was that all about? John wondered. He put his thoughts aside as he reached the grocery. Walking inside, John felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Something about the store was wrong, John just knew it. And sure enough, John looked up to see a man in a black mast clutching a gun in one hand, and a bag in the other. He was pointing it at the man at the counter and yelling.
"PUT THE MONEY IN THE BAG NOW! OR I PUT A BULLET IN YOUR BRAIN!" John ducked out of sight, but to late, the robber turned sharply and yelled, "Who's there? Show yourself or this guy dies!"
Breathing heavily, John stepped out from behind the aisle.
"GET OVER HERE NOW!" Yelled the robber. John obliged, his military senses gearing into action. He saw a group of peopled huddled in the corner, clearly put there by the robber. Their eyes followed John as he headed toward the robber.
"Alright mate, just calm down." John said, his tone surprisingly calm for how fast his heart was beating.
"SHUT IT!" He yelled, pointing the gun to John. John raised his hands in defense and looked him straight in the eye.
"Listen. You don't want to do this." John said, "You'll ruin your life if you go through on this."
"I SAID SHUT IT!" The robber yelled.
"Look, I don't know your motives, but I would say that your probably desperate, and that makes since. We all are mate. But that doesn't mean you go down this path."
"I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU SAY ONE MORE WORD… I WILL SHOOT."
"Please." John said, knowing he was pushing his luck, but somehow he didn't care. He knew Sherlock would come and save him. He always did. Since the very beginning, Sherlock would show up at the last moment to save him.
"Just think this through. You don't want-"
BANG.
It was pain like no other. John felt the bullet rip through his shirt, and enter his skin with almost effortless ease, it ripped through his rib cage, to his lung. The scene seemed to freeze before him, as though time had stopped completely. John stood there, mid-sentence, and then the pain registered and he collapsed to the cold hard ground. Blood had begun to seep through John's fingers, rapidly making it's way to the floor, staining John's best jumper. John was crippled by the pain, it was so white hot and blinding. He heard distant screams but they seemed so far away.
John seemed to be sinking down lower and lower, and the pain, if possible, seemed to be getting worse. John coughed, blood pooling from his mouth. He coughed again, they were racking his body, sending fire through his body, such was the pain. John gasped and wheezed, trying desperately to stoop the ever present flow of blood that was coming out of his chest.
"JOHN!" He heard a scream from some distant location, but couldn't pinpoint it. He tried to respond but there was too much pain and blood and chaos.
"John!" He heard, much closer now. John's eyes flickered upward to gaze into those beautiful eyes the color of the sea. They were so vast and beautiful that they captivated him, and he completely forgot the pain for a few precious moments. Then he was thrown back into reality when Sherlock looked down at his wound and his eyes grew wide with tears.
"No. no. no no." Sherlock said over and over, pressing his hands to John's chest, making John heave.
"John. No." Sherlock said briskly, his hands washing over John's blood. Sherlock looked up at the sound of sirens and sighed in relief.
"Your going to be fine, do you hear me John Watson?" Sherlock yelled. John looked up at him and tried to smile. To reassure him that he was fine and that they would be fine, but more blood came out instead. "I am going to take care of you. Because you take care of me, and now it's my turn. So were going to get you better. Okay? Your going to be better." Sherlock said, but John wasn't so sure. He could feel himself slipping into the darkness of death's clutches, sinking in. But he didn't want to go. Not now, not when he had just kissed Sherlock Holmes. Not when they were supposed to grow old together. Not when everything he ever wanted was holding him in his arms, drenched in his own blood.
"S-s-Sherlock" John spat, every word causing him immense pain.
"Hush love, don't talk." Sherlock said, now stroking his hair.
"N-no. I n-n-need to t-t-tell you…" John said, each word getting harder. He could feel death closing in on him.
"D-don't b-b-blame yours-s-self. Okay? D-don't you e-ever h-h-hate yourse-e-lf, because…. Bec-cause I l-l-love y-you, and I w-w-w-want you t-to be.. be ha-p-py." John gazed into Sherlock's eyes and held tight to him, scared of what was to come. Sherlock held him tighter, his tears soaking with John's blood. John's eyes flickered and then shut. Never to open again.
Sherlock let out a wale of complete pain and utter sadness. A bullet seemed to rip through Sherlock's chest, was the pain he felt. Nothing compared to this. Not the Fall. Not his father's death. Nothing. He held onto John as the paramedics sampled into the room. Sherlock didn't pay them any mind. For John was the only one. The only one who deserved his attention. He loved him, and now, John was dead. Sherlock's gripped John tight, with the intention of never letting go.
"We were supposed to grow old together." Sherlock whispered.