Author Notes: Here is the final chapter of this story. I hope you will enjoy it.
Appreciation: Thanks to my fantastic beta-reader, Tstui1gos for working her magic on this chapter. :)
Trigger Warning: Mentions of internalized acephobia.
Morning Light
"Fuck!"
John punched the wall and barely registered the pain at the impact. He had fucked up and fucked up royally at that. How could he ever look into Sherlock's eyes again after what he had said to him? When he knew that he had been the cause of the pain that he had seen in Sherlock's eyes.
"You are a fucking arsehole, Watson," he cursed into the empty room and sank back down on his bed, miserable and angry with himself. It had taken him some time to calm down and realise how badly things had gone. He had mocked his best friend's sexuality after it had been obvious how hard it had been for Sherlock to come out to him. Admittedly, Sherlock's struggle had only become apparent to John in retrospect but that was no excuse. And neither did his terrible date give him the right to throw such cruel insults at his friend.
"Christ," John cursed quietly and hid his face in his hands. He should have been happy that Sherlock hadn't rejected him right away - he had returned the kiss after all. Instead John had lashed out at his friend in the worst possible way... for trying to share an important part of himself with John. He had done all that although John knew firsthand how it felt to be told that an essential part of himself was wrong. He hadn't been any better than every transphobic idiot that had ever crossed his path.
John let out a bitter laugh at that realisation. It echoed hollowly through the room. He had betrayed Sherlock's trust in him in one of the worst possible ways and only because... he had been insecure and afraid. Afraid that his gender identity and his body would come between him and the man he loved. Insecure because Jane's words had still echoed through his mind at that time. But damn it all, he should still have known better. No matter his state of mind, John should have seen that Sherlock had been serious when he had talked about his sexuality. He always prided himself on being able to read his friend like no other and yet John had failed him. And this after he had already suspected that Sherlock wasn't interested in sex. It shouldn't have come as a surprise to John. Any other day he wouldn't have taken it so badly but tonight...
John shook his head. His mind was going around in circles and it didn't lead him anywhere if he blamed himself for the same mistakes over and over again. There was only one course of actions he could take to try to clean up this whole mess.
John took a deep breath and got to his feet just as the door downstairs opened and steps sounded on the stairs a second later. He frowned as he recognized Sherlock's gait - he hadn't realised that his friend had gone out - and hurried to the living-room.
John smelled it as soon as he stepped into the living-room: Smoke. Fresh cigarette smoke that clung to his friend like a flashing warning sign. John swallowed hard as he switched on the light while various scenarios flashed through his mind. The most likely one was that Sherlock had got high and smoked a whole packet of cigarettes afterwards. John hated the mere idea that his friend might have relapsed and that it was all John's fault. He had hurt his friend so much that Sherlock had felt the need to...
"I didn't use," Sherlock's voice interrupted John's train of thoughts and he forced himself to look up and meet the tired gaze of his friend. Indeed his pupils seemed to react normally to the light. At least, as far as John could tell from where he stood. His brief scrutiny didn't go unnoticed and Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "I was tempted but I opted against it and for a smoke, instead."
"It rather smells like you had more than one smoke," John shot back, before he snapped his mouth shut. No matter how natural it seemed to argue with Sherlock about his smoking habits, he didn't have a right to criticize his friend. If John hadn't behaved like a total prick Sherlock wouldn't have felt the need to smoke. Besides John hadn't left his room to give a speech about the ill effects of smoking. He squared his shoulders. "I must apologize."
Sherlock's expression didn't betray his feelings as he moved to sit in his armchair and regarded him coldly. "For believing that I had relapsed or for criticizing my drug - my legal drug - of choice? There is no need to apologize for the former. I wasn't certain that I wouldn't use until I held a packet of cigarettes in my hands."
John clenched his hands at his side. Of course, Sherlock wouldn't make it easy for him. Why should he after everything that John had thrown at his friend? John should be glad that Sherlock was still willing to talk to him at all. Hell, he should probably thank some non-existent deity that Sherlock had come back to their flat instead of vanishing in the labyrinth of London's streets.
"I'm apologizing for how I treated you when you came out to me as asexual. My reaction was uncalled for." This only got him an upwards twitch of plump lips as they curled into a bitter smile. "Yes, I agree. Your ridicule of my sexuality was more than uncalled for although I have survived worse reactions."
Anyone else would have bought Sherlock's cold and indifferent behavior but John picked up on the stiff set of his friend's shoulders and the edge of resignation in his voice. He swallowed hard as it hit him that this was his fault. That he had reduced Sherlock to this state and that it was up to him to fix the damage he had done... if it was still possible.
"I will make tea," he announced and was met with a bitter laugh, as he hurried into the kitchen.
"Tea, is this your answer to everything, John? Did you also make tea when..." The sentence ended abruptly and John glanced through the doorway of the kitchen to see that Sherlock had clapped a hand over his mouth. It would have looked funny if John hadn't been able to guess what his friend had likely been about to say.
"Go ahead," he urged as he waited for the kettle to boil. "Say it! Ask me if making tea helped when my family refused to use my name and the correct pronouns. Deduce if I made tea when I felt like crying because my first boyfriend had just told me that he wanted to introduce his girl to his parents." John slammed the mugs on the counter at these memories. It hurt to recall them although he felt like he somehow deserved to relive them after everything he had thrown at his friend tonight.
"I won't," Sherlock replied when John came back with two steaming mugs and gave one to him before he sat down in his own armchair. "I don't see any need to make you miserable."
John laughed humorlessly as he watched Sherlock take a sip of his tea. "You have every right to pay me back in kind. What I said... it wasn't just wrong it's also not how I feel about... asexuality. I was just..."
"Insecure and hurt because of the incident with your latest date. I'm aware of this but that doesn't mean that your insults hurt any less."
John almost spilled his tea as he gaped at Sherlock in shock. Not because his friend had correctly deduced the motivations behind his terrible outburst but because... Sherlock usually wasn't this open. John never got him to talk about his feelings and he suspected that sentiments didn't come easily to Sherlock... or he just didn't spare the time to analyze them. His openness and honesty - especially after what had happened - were rather surprising to say the least.
"I decided that we needed to talk openly if we want to save our friendship... provided that you regretted your words but I see that you do."
The words sent a mixture of relief and disappointment through John's body. Relief that their friendship was so important to Sherlock that he was willing to forgive John his transgression but disappointment that his friend obviously didn't see a chance for them to become more than friends.
"Yes, I regret them deeply. I didn't intend to hurt you, I just... lashed out." The apology sounded hollow even to John's ears. When he looked up though, a small smile flickered through Sherlock's eyes and he relaxed minutely. "I also didn't mean to imply that sex is a must for me in a relationship," John added hurriedly before he could change his mind and hide his feelings like a coward.
The light dimmed in his friend's eyes. "And I thought we had a honest conversation."
"We do!" John grabbed Sherlock's wrist as his friend made to get up. "I don't need to have sex with you if we were in a romantic relationship." And when Sherlock remained completely silent, John soldiered on. "You obviously like kissing and you... care for me and I... I love you, Sherlock." John hated how his voice cracked at the last words as he opened himself up for every cutting remark that was at his friend's disposal but he needed to make this right. "If I was only allowed to express my feelings for you... that would be enough."
Their gazes locked but John couldn't for the life of him figure out what was going on inside Sherlock's head. He couldn't even guess if his friend was moved or disgusted by John's love confession. Seconds ticked by and finally Sherlock shook off John's hand and stood up. "I need to think about it," he murmured quietly. "That's not a No but... it's rather late. Too late to make important decisions." With this, Sherlock vanished in the direction of his bedroom and John sagged back in his armchair.
He knew that he should be glad that Sherlock hadn't rejected him out of hand and that he still considered their friendship so important that he didn't want to ruin it with a rushed decision. Nevertheless a part of him couldn't help but wonder how differently this night would have gone if John hadn't ruined it for both of them. He certainly wouldn't sit in his armchair now - with a cooling cup of tea - and stare at Sherlock's empty chair. No they would probably be cuddled up together in John's bed and... such thoughts didn't help.
John sighed and carried his and Sherlock's mug into the kitchen. He paused a second when he heard the door to the bathroom close but then forced his feet to carry him back up to his room. It wouldn't help his case if he pressured Sherlock into an answer. So waiting for his friend to finish in the bathroom was out of the question. John climbed in his bed and drew the covers up to his nose. He was fairly certain that he would wait in vain for sleep to claim him as his mind started to wonder how long it would take Sherlock to come up with a reply to his proposal... and if it would be in his favor. Long hours passed slowly while John watched the shifting shadows on the ceiling and imagined every possible outcome. He fell asleep at sunrise, convinced that he had fucked up his chance to have Sherlock as more than his best friend.
OOO
What should he do?
A quiet sigh escaped Sherlock's lips as he watched the moving shadows on his ceiling from his lying position on the bed. He would like to pretend that it was rare that he was at a loss as to what to do but he would be a liar if he made such a claim. Actually he had been at his wit's end countless times especially in regard to his sexuality. A bitter smile pulled at Sherlock's lips as he recalled the memories that had left the greatest impression on him.
"Don't you have anyone you want to invite to your birthday, Darling?" Mummy smiled hopefully at him but Sherlock only shook his head and barely stopped himself from glaring at her. It would only take time away from his experiments if he alienated her and had to make up for his transgression, later.
"They are all idiots," Sherlock told the jar of honey and earned a sigh from his mother and a sympathetic chuckle from Mycroft. "You will meet more interesting people when you start university in a few months. You are advanced enough in your chosen subjects to join the higher semester and I'm sure that you will find a smart, young woman to spend your time with."
"Or a young man," Mummy added and Sherlock felt more than saw how she frowned at her eldest son, for not including this possibility. "It doesn't matter who you bring home, Sherlock. We would just like to see you happy."
Sherlock pressed his lips into a thin line to hold back the scathing remark that was on the tip of his tongue. He was happy when he could work on his experiments or build up his Mind Palace. Why should he spend his time with stupid people that didn't understand him and tried to hold him down with their petty views and expectations? Relationships were messy. Sherlock had learned that much at school. Your girlfriend or boyfriend wanted your attention all the time and they got stroppy and annoyed when you ignored them for too long. And then, there was the whole sex part. A shudder ran through Sherlock's body at the thought. He didn't understand why everyone was so obsessed with it. The pleasure they gained from it was explained by simple biochemical reactions. It was nothing extraordinary. Not to mention that Sherlock somehow doubted that it was a very satisfying experience when hormone driven seventeen and eighteen - year - olds were involved. He hadn't even really enjoyed it when he had needed to deal with his own erection in the morning. It hadn't been unpleasant per se but neither had Sherlock felt the urge to repeat the experience if it wasn't necessary.
"No matter their gender, I'm sure you will find someone out there for you," Mycroft continued the conversation after he had wolfed down three sandwiches and Sherlock rolled his eyes at his big brother. "Just trust me." Mycroft grinned his 'I-am-your-big-brother-and-know-what-I-am-talking-about' smile. "See it as an experiment to figure out what you like."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow at that but didn't deem the words worth a comment although his thoughts were racing through his mind. Usually, he ignored his big brother but this time Mycroft might be right - although Sherlock wouldn't admit to it if his life depended on it. It didn't matter that he was annoyed at the notion that he should fall in love with someone - or at least have sex with them - but maybe Mycroft was right and Sherlock should treat it like an experiment. It might prove to him that he wasn't different from his peers in this regard at least, when he was already seen as a freak for his intelligence and interest in crimes and poisons.
It had started then.
Sherlock sighed heavily as he recalled how he had set the parameters for his experiment before he had gone to university. He had never felt sexual attraction to anyone but he had still forced himself to keep his eyes open for someone who... wasn't annoying. His choice had fallen on Nathalie who had had a wicked sense of humor and was brilliant at chemistry. She had also looked beautiful - from an objective point of view. They had become friends really fast during Sherlock's second semester at university and they might have stayed friends for life if his stupid experiment hadn't ruined everything. Sometimes, Sherlock still regretted how things had gone between them... and all because he had listened to Mycroft for once.
"I don't know if someone told you before but you are really, really handsome." Nathalie winked at Sherlock as she took in his naked body and he relaxed at her easy compliment and joined her on the bed. They weren't dating but they liked each other and when Sherlock had admitted that he had never slept with anyone before Nathalie had thought it a good idea to be his first. It was perfect for his experiment although Sherlock hadn't told her about it. Somehow it felt wrong to admit that he wasn't really interested in having sex with her but that he felt pressured to give it a go because everyone expected it of him.
"No need to be nervous." Nathalie smiled at him - she had noticed his flaccid penis - and then they kissed. It was nice... more than nice actually. Sherlock enjoyed the sensation of her lips on his. Warmth and contentment seeped through him as she climbed on top of him and pressed her body against his. It was comfortable to be so close to her. Grounding to have her weight settle down on top of him. He carded his fingers through her long, red hair and stroked along her spine with the tip of his fingers. Nathalie's skin was smooth and warm. Sherlock could have spend hours just kissing and touching her like this but of course it couldn't be. Nathalie noticed his erection much too soon - impossible not to in this position - and grinned at him before she got a condom, rolled it onto his penis and sat back in his lap.
"Ready?" She asked and Sherlock merely wanted to shake his head. He wanted to tell her that they should ignore his erection because it was only a biological reaction on his part. He wanted to ask her not to do anything about it and instead go back to kissing and cuddling. Nevertheless he felt himself nod and a few seconds later, Nathalie sank down on him. It felt... strange. Neither bad nor good. It was just a mixture of new sensations that stimulated his nerve endings and led to biochemical reactions.
Nathalie started to move on top of him and Sherlock didn't know what to do - what he was expected to do. He didn't like the feeling of added stimulation on his cock but it didn't appear to be a good time to tell his friend as much. In the end, he opted for kissing Nathalie. It was almost as nice as before but Sherlock didn't really want to continue for longer than necessary. Not when he didn't enjoy the sensation of being in Nathalie and he doubted that he would come tonight - especially since he didn't look forward to having an orgasm. Sherlock marked this part of his experiment as failed even while he tried to come up with a way to end this night without offending his friend.
He had even managed that much. Sherlock shook his head with a sad smile as he recalled how he had put his finger between their bodies and to Nathalie's clitoris. In his mind it was like any other experiment as he remembered Nathalie's surprised look at his actions and then the pure pleasure that had taken its place - anatomy books were good for a lot of things. She hadn't noticed that Sherlock hadn't come. His erection had flagged while she had still been riding the waves of her orgasm. He had made sure to dispose of the condom without allowing her a look at it and then... they had cuddled.
A fond smile passed Sherlock's features at the memory before it turned sad as he recalled Nathalie's devastated look when he had told her that they wouldn't repeat the experience. She had put on a brave face and suggested that he might be gay - she was an open minded woman - but their friendship hadn't been like before. The strain that this one night had put on it had never vanished and Sherlock had almost been glad when Nathalie had changed universities. Almost only because... he had lost his only friend over something as stupid as sex. And he still hadn't admitted to himself back then that sex just wasn't for him, Sherlock thought bitterly as he recalled the other parts of his experiment.
"Oh God, you are so tight," the man - Nico or Niles, Sherlock wasn't sure - groaned as he pushed his cock into Sherlock's arse. It didn't hurt per se. There was a stretch and the weird feeling of fullness but nothing that Sherlock would consider painful. It was even less uncomfortable than receiving a hand - or blowjob. He certainly preferred a dick in his arse to a dick in his mouth. Sherlock stopped himself from recalling this experiment before he could get violently sick.
This time, he wasn't expected to touch the genitals of someone in a sexual manner or suffer through the sexual touches of someone else. Yes, he had a cock up his arse, but he wasn't expected to do anything besides allowing this guy to fuck him and this was fine... until the man thought it appropriate to aim for Sherlock's prostate with his thrusts. Nerve endings fired signals through his body and Sherlock experienced the strange sensation of getting closer to orgasm and wanting to stop it at the same time. Of course, there was no stopping it and Sherlock led out a strangled cry - it wasn't a sob - as he came at the unwanted stimulation. His distress went unnoticed as the man groaned with lust and followed him after a few more thrusts.
This night had brought the realisation to Sherlock that he didn't enjoy sex at all - in any form. After finally admitting the truth to himself, it hadn't taken him long to analyze what he would enjoy with a partner and what was out of the question. Sadly, what he had to offer was never enough for anyone and this brought him back to the question at hand: Would it be enough for John? His friend had assured him that he didn't require sex to have a relationship with Sherlock but how could he trust his words after what had transpired between them, only hours ago? It was very likely that John merely felt guilty about how he had reacted to Sherlock's coming out and wanted to make up for his hurtful words.
Sherlock sighed into the empty room. He knew why John had been so spiteful and he also believed his friend when he said that he loved him but... was it enough? John enjoyed sex especially with people he cared about and Sherlock wouldn't be able to provide this important part for him if they were to start a relationship. At least not in the way John was used to.
If Sherlock had gotten to the point at which he explained to his potential partner what he enjoyed or was comfortable with and what was completely out of the question, he would have been able to judge John's feelings on the subject. Not that his judgment was flawless - as had been proven to Sherlock numerous times. As it was though, Sherlock didn't have enough data to make a decision... and he wasn't sure if it was wise to heed Mycroft's advice - again.
Sherlock had walked for less than fifteen minutes when a black car pulled up next to him. It was neither unexpected nor welcome. Of course, Mycroft had his cameras - his ever watchful eyes - trained on the flat at Baker Street. ready to interfere whenever he believed that Sherlock was out of his depth and he could play the role he was best versed in: Meddling, older brother.
Sherlock directed his best glare at the blackened car windows and kept on walking. The car stayed at his side and Sherlock knew that he couldn't escape his brother this time. If he had wanted to avoid Mycroft he would have needed to plan his route very carefully after leaving the flat in such a distraught state. He hadn't. And now, on top of everything that had already happened this evening, Sherlock would be forced to suffer through a conversation with his brother. Lovely. No need then to delay the inevitable. Sherlock stopped abruptly and the car did as well. With a deadly glare, Sherlock opened the back door and slipped onto the bench.
"Good evening, brother mine," Mycroft drawled from his position opposite Sherlock. He was clad in a three piece suit like always - Sherlock sometimes suspected he even slept in one - and balanced a laptop on his knees as he gave his brother the once over. Sherlock snorted in reply to his brother's greeting and crossed his arms over his chest. He knew what Mycroft saw and what he could deduce from it. No need for Sherlock to say anything.
"But you see, Sherlock, I can deduce almost your whole evening - including your argument with John - but it would be helpful of you to fill me into the details."
"And why would I do that?" Sherlock glanced out of the window and noted to his relief that the car was merely driving through London in circles. No need to worry about ending up at Mycroft's home at least.
"You see," his brother closed the laptop and put it aside, "that I need to know how it was possible for John to rile you up to such an extent that you are on the brink of a relapse."
"Why would you assume that John had anything to do with it? Maybe I'm just bored and tired of pretending to be a good, little boy." Sherlock didn't try to deny Mycroft's other deduction. It would be useless as his brother knew him well enough to see the signs of... temptation when they appeared. And yes, Sherlock was tempted. Tempted to numb the pain in his chest with a quick injection. Tempted to sink into the blissful oblivion only his drug of choice could bring. It would be so much easier than dealing with his emotions - with John's rejection. Still that didn't mean that he was going to confide in his elder brother as if he were twelve years all over again.
"We both know that only the good Doctor is dear enough to you to hurt your feelings to such an extent that you would fall back on your old habits. Save us some time, Sherlock and tell me."
"You even managed not to sneer when you said feelings," Sherlock drawled but accepted the package of cigarettes and the lighter that Mycroft pulled out of his waistcoat nonetheless. "Did you take a course or something?"
The first drag from the cigarette burned in his lungs and Sherlock cherished it as he smoked the cigarette down to the filter and flipped it onto the floor of the car. Mycroft didn't even raise an eyebrow at his behavior - to Sherlock's chagrin. Instead he took a cigarette from the package himself and lit it just as Sherlock was about to take a second one. The both smoked in silence for some time until Sherlock couldn't stand it any longer. "Is this your version of a nice family outing? Driving through the city by night and smoking cigarettes with your brother?"
"No," Mycroft retrieved an ashtray from under his seat and put his cigarette out. "Actually I have international business to tend to but you are higher up on my priority list than the elections in... Well, it doesn't matter."
"I'm touched," Sherlock snarled and ignored the small part of him that was indeed - just a tiny little bit - touched by his brother's concern for him. He wouldn't give Mycroft the satisfaction of breaking down in front of him and crying on his shoulder. No, Sherlock didn't know what exactly he was supposed to do about the whole mess but he certainly wasn't going to embarrass himself in front of his brother. The last time he had cried in Mycroft's arms had been over two decades ago - when Redbeard had died - and Sherlock wasn't going to repeat the experience tonight.
"Let's play a game." Mycroft's voice interrupted Sherlock's thoughts and he frowned at his older brother. "What kind of game?"
"Your favorite game, of course. I deduce what happened this evening and if I'm right you have to tell me how such a situation could arise in the first place."
For a second, Sherlock was tempted to demand the car to be pulled over to get away from his brother but he didn't. Instead, he nodded his consent to Mycroft and leaned back in the comfortable leather seats. Of course, Sherlock only wanted Mycroft to deduce him so that his brother finally left him in peace. It had absolutely nothing to do with wanting his brother's input or - God forbid - his sympathy.
"John had a date this evening which didn't end well."
"You know this from the CCTV footage. That's not very impressive Mycroft."
"I watched the video. That's not cheating, that's being observant." Sherlock met Mycroft's smug smile with a glare and his brother continued. "Obviously you did something to rile the good Doctor up. The light upstairs was switched on a few minutes after he got home and he could be seen pacing in his room before the light was turned off once more."
"Peeper!"
Mycroft brushed Sherlock's accusation aside with a shrug. "It's part of my job. No matter though, back to the topic at hand. You went up to him three hours after your first argument where you settled your differences... and then started a new argument."
"I should check the flat for cameras," Sherlock murmured and hoped that it would distract his brother long enough to avoid the upcoming conversation. No such luck.
"There is no need for this as you well know. There aren't any cameras in either of your bedrooms - and none in the whole flat after your last sweep. It was a simple enough deduction."
"Then, you can also tell me what John did that riled me up as you put it so eloquently." It was clearly a challenge and Sherlock didn't like how Mycroft's eyes lit up at it. "Nothing easier than that. You came out to him as asexual - although I don't know why you thought it a wise idea after an argument - and he reacted badly to the news." Something dark flickered in the cold depths of his brother's eyes.
Sherlock's lips curled up into a bitter smile. "No need to judge John for his prejudices. You aren't better in this regard."
This shut Mycroft up - Sherlock made a note in his Mind Palace. He had long enough to smoke a couple more cigarette before his brother found his voice once more. "I never meant to make you feel bad about your sexuality and if I did," Mycroft bit down on his bottom lip and Sherlock watched in fascination as a light blush crept into his cheeks. "I apologize for it."
"I think I have to notify the Queen that the British Government has been replaced by an alien." Sherlock glanced at his brother in astonishment and then shook his head slowly. He couldn't believe that his brother had just apologized for all his biting remarks about Sherlock's sexuality. It shouldn't be enough to make Sherlock forgive him but somehow... it was. For Mycroft to apologize for anything - at all - was almost unheard of and Sherlock knew that it was their equivalent of a prostration and a tearful hug.
"I just don't understand why Doctor Watson reacted so badly to your coming out when he always appeared to be such an open minded man."
Sherlock accepted the change in topic with a sigh and a shrug. "It might have something to do with the conversation we had about his gender identity first and then about why his date went wrong."
Mycroft frowned in confusion and if Sherlock hadn't felt so drained already he would have delighted in storing this expression away in his Mind Palace. As it was, he just wanted to go home and hide in his room - preferably forever.
"You discussed his gender identity because your first argument came up... which had something to do with his gender identity. You said something triggering... Why would you do that in the first place?"
"Because," Sherlock snapped, "until four hours ago I didn't have the first clue that John was transgender."
This silenced Mycroft for the length of four cigarettes and when his brother had recovered from his shock even Sherlock felt calm enough to entertain a civil conversation with his brother - at least for ten minutes.
It should be easy to decide if listening to Mycroft's advice would result in the desired outcome but... it wasn't. Sherlock sighed as he watched the moving shadows on the ceiling. Usually he took every risk - no matter how high - as long as there was the smallest chance for success but this time... he would like to have a guarantee. A guarantee that his decision wouldn't ruin his friendship with John. A guarantee that it wasn't too late to fix whatever had been broken in the last few hours and that they could still go back to their first kiss. A guarantee that everything wouldn't go to hell and Sherlock wouldn't be left alone once more. Yes, a guarantee would be nice but Sherlock was well aware that such a thing didn't exist. Not when it came to John Watson and - God, did he dare saying it - feelings. Both complete unpredictable variables and Sherlock still needed to find a solution to the calculation.
The first rays of daylight seeped through the curtains of his bedroom and brought the sounds of rush hour traffic with them when Sherlock finally decided on a course of action and allowed his exhausted mind a few minutes of rest.
OOO
John didn't want to get up. His first impulse upon waking up was to bury himself under the covers and remain hidden in his room for the rest of the day. It would be easier than facing Sherlock. At least, as long as John remained ignorant of his friend's decision in regards to their relationship he could entertain the fantasy that everything would go well. That Sherlock would give them a chance and... that John wouldn't ruin it in the end.
"Fuck that," John muttered to himself and stumbled out of his bed and through the room to his wardrobe. He hadn't made it to this point in his life by hiding from problems. If he had hid from them... well it was a moot point as John doubted that he would still be alive today if he hadn't found the courage to live as the man he was.
John grabbed a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt from his wardrobe and then frowned as he noticed the fresh stubble on his face. Usually he wouldn't shave this morning - no work, no date - as he had only shaved last night before he had gone out but...
John found himself in front of the bathroom mirror with shaving foam on his face faster than he had thought possible. Some might call it foolish but if Sherlock - against all hope - decided that he wanted John in his life as more than a friend then John didn't want to ruin a potential kiss with stubble. Not that he knew if Sherlock even wanted to exchange kisses but better safe than sorry. John had had enough dates - back in his days at med school - who had complaint about his stubbly cheeks and their raw kissed lips. He didn't want to add Sherlock to this list. Especially not when he felt more comfortable with a clean shaven face himself by now. He didn't need to grow out a beard anymore to feel secure in his manliness and he also didn't fear being taken for a woman without stubble on his face. Which was a good thing as John had been told numerous times that it looked like sauerkraut was sprouting from his face when he had sported a beard.
Shaking his head at these pointless thoughts John finally left the bathroom and went into the kitchen. There was no sign that Sherlock had been in here after last night and John sighed quietly. He wasn't even sure if he felt disappointed or relieved at the knowledge that his friend wasn't up and about just yet. The suspense might very well kill him but at least John could enjoy a hot cup of tea before his world was crushed by Sherlock because...
No, John smiled sadly as he turned the kettle on. There wasn't much of a chance left that Sherlock would risk a relationship with him. Not after last night. Not after...
"If you could make some eggs and bacon with toast that would be marvelous."
John knocked his hand against the cupboard as he spun around to face his friend. "Dear God, you look terrible." The words slipped from John's tongue before he got the chance to clamp his mouth shut. "Way to go, Watson. Better keep insulting your friend so that he doesn't even think of getting involved with you!"
"Thanks for the information. I wouldn't have come to the conclusion myself." An askew grin graced Sherlock's lips as he all but collapsed onto one of the kitchen chairs. "Obviously even I can't go three days with only one hour of sleep anymore."
"One hour," John echoed in disbelief as he retrieved the necessary items for the breakfast ordered. "But you went to bed at around... Oh!" Of course Sherlock hadn't gone straight to sleep just like John hadn't been able to find rest for hours. His friend had probably spent hour after hour analyzing his interactions with John and making a decision based on the data he had gathered about his friend.
"I'm sorry that you couldn`t sleep just because..."
"Stop it!" John's head snapped up at the harsh tone and he met Sherlock's bloodshot but sharp eyes. "Stop apologizing for something you aren't responsible for."
John frowned at this as he heated the oil in the pan and added the bacon to it. "But somehow it's my fault. If I hadn't been such an idiot and we hadn't had this argument then you could have slept."
"You don't know that." Sherlock's shoulders sagged as he breathed out a quiet sigh and suddenly he looked as tired as he probably was. There was a grayish tint to his cheeks and his curls were in knots. "I often can't sleep because my mind can't find rest. Nonetheless that's not the point. I want this circle of apologies to stop. You forgave me for my thoughtless words after your date and I forgive you for your anger fueled insults and that's it."
John almost dropped the eggs on the floor as Sherlock's final words hit him like a wipe. "That's it!" Of course how could he have hoped for something else? Something more? He should be glad that Sherlock had forgiven him at all and that their friendship hadn't been destroyed. Still John was... No, not disappointed. That was too mild a word for the crushing, burning feeling in his chest at the knowledge that he would never have more with Sherlock. They would never wake up in the same bed together. There wouldn't be cuddles on the couch while enjoying a Doctor Who marathon. They might not even grow old together. Maybe they would become estranged or Sherlock would find someone who wasn't a total jerk and ask John to move out and...
"I would like eggs for breakfast not ashes." The amused reminder came just in time for John to save most of their breakfast and transfer it to the table. He watched as Sherlock tucked into his meal with gusto. Usually he would enjoy such a rare occurrence but John couldn't even bring himself to smile this time. It was great that Sherlock gave in to his body's needs but it was a small pleasure when John considered what he had just lost.
"Are you finished?" John blinked down at his half eaten plate. He didn't think he could stomach another forkful of egg without being sick all over the kitchen table. Not when his intestines felt like they were tied into the Gordian Knot. Instead of voicing any of these thoughts John merely pushed his plate away from him. "Good then we can finally talk."
"Talk?" John frowned at his friend. He didn't know what they still needed to talk about. Not after Sherlock had decided against giving their relationship a go. Or maybe his friend had already moved on to a different topic and they would discuss the storage of new human body parts in the fridge.
"Yes I think we should be on the same page if we want to give it a try," Sherlock spoke to the table.
"Give what a try?" John was genuinely confused by now and it didn't help matters when Sherlock flinched at his casual question.
"This," his friend gestured at them both. "Us. Together. I thought you wanted... Never mind." Sherlock pushed his chair back and stood up. "If you have made up your mind and decided that it's not worth..."
"Stop. Just stop for a second." John held up his hand to his friend who looked ready to bolt from the room. It couldn't be, could it? Two people shouldn't be able to misunderstand each other so completely and yet here they were. "So you say... you want to give a relationship - a romantic relationship - with me a chance?" John prayed that his voice hadn't come out as cracked and hopeful as it had sounded to his own ears.
"Yes."
Just this one word and John could have wept with relief at hearing it. It was a good thing that he was already sitting down otherwise his knees would have given out at this unforeseen revelation.
"Good. That's good... great in fact." John's smile was met with a tentative one from Sherlock. It was only then that John realised that he wasn't the only one who was nervous in the room and somehow this knowledge calmed him considerably.
"Tea?" He offered ready for any and every conversation Sherlock intended to have with him.
"Yes, please."
OOO
Sherlock clenched his hands around the mug until he was certain that the ceramic would crack. It would be a welcome distraction from the conversation they were about to have but... No, Sherlock wanted to get it over with in order to finally know if he had made the right decision.
It hadn't been easy to decide to give a romantic relationship with John a second chance. Not because Sherlock didn't trust his friend. He had put his life too often into his friend's hands to doubt that he was safe with John. At least his life was safe with him. It was his heart - and yes, Sherlock admitted that he had one - that he was worried about. John wouldn't hurt him intentionally - not after last night - but that didn't mean that it couldn't happen at all. There was the very likely possibility that the kind of relationship Sherlock had to offer wasn't right for John and that his friend would only notice so later on. They would break up and it was doubtful that their friendship would survive such a blow. Still as Mycroft had pointed out it would be better than the alternative. Better than both of them continuing their lives like nothing had happened but always wondering "what if...?" This could destroy them just as well and if one option included more intimacy between John and him then Sherlock was set on choosing this path. No matter if it had the potential to cause deeper wounds in the end. Still John had a say in this as well.
Sherlock glanced at his quiet but expectant friend and decided that now was as good a time as any to start this conversation. He put his mug on the small table next to his armchair, took a deep breath and started to talk before his courage abandoned him.
"I like to kiss - with and without tongue - and to hug. From time to time I also enjoy to... cuddle," Sherlock ignored the way his face heated at the ridiculous sounding word. "And I certainly wouldn't mind indulging in all the above while we are both naked but" Sherlock prepared himself for the disappointment that was soon to be written all over John's face. "I don't want to have sex with you. Any kind of sex. I won't touch you sexually and I don't want to be touched in such a way either. I don't mind if you jerk off while we are in bed together - or in any other place you prefer - but I won't participate in any way."
It was out. Finally. All of his conditions and limitations were out in the open for John to judge. Sherlock slumped in his armchair but withstood the impulse to avert his gaze when he felt John's eyes on him. It took some courage but Sherlock forced himself to look at John and to observe. The first thing that Sherlock noted was the complete absence of disappointment. Instead there was curiosity, relief and not a small amount of fondness written all over his friend's face. By far the most positive reaction Sherlock had ever gotten to his little speech - which he had perfected over the years - but he still didn't allow the hope in his chest to bloom.
"The sexual part is non-negotiable. I could be convinced to hold hands with you - although not when I work on a case - but you won't convince me to indulge in any sexual activities with you."
John furrowed his brow and Sherlock's heart sank. Of course this wouldn't be enough for John. It had never been enough for anyone. Kisses, hugs and cuddles were considered nice but sex was a must-have for most people and Sherlock couldn't contribute this essential part to a relationship. Theoretically he could perform but... the costs were much too high. Sherlock didn't see why he should feel uncomfortable and suffer through acts he barely tolerated only because his partner wanted it. He wouldn't demand such services from his partner either. At least Sherlock had learned that John wasn't different in this regard right away before he had gotten involved even more deeply than he already was.
He made to get up - unsure of where to go but aware that he needed a quiet place to lick his wounds - when John's voice stopped him in his tracks. "Why would I ever try to coax you into having sex with me when you stated that you don't want it?" There was disbelief and no small amount of anger in his friend's tone. "The thought of jerking off while you are in the same room as I is already damn sexy so I wouldn't ask for anything else that you don't want to give. Which makes me how you got the idea that I would ask for more than you are willing to give. Who the fuck did try to force you into having sex with them?!"
Sherlock blinked. Stunned. John was angry on his behalf. Not even Mycroft had raised an eyebrow when he had figured out that his brother had been upset about consensual sex almost a decade ago. No matter that Sherlock hadn't consented because he had wanted to have sex. It was rather...
"He didn't force me per se. He... I guess you can say he guilt-tripped me." If possible John's eyes grew even darker at the admission and for a second Sherlock feared that his friend's temper would get the better of him. The moment passed and John's eyes cleared up as he reigned his temper in. "I promise that I won't do this to you. Never. I will probably make mistakes and so will you and there will be fights - as usual - but I will never bribe you into giving me something you aren't comfortable with. That's it if you still want me."
Sherlock felt the corners of his lips turn up in what could only be described as a ridiculously wide smile but he didn't care as an answering one bloomed on John's face. "Of course I want you. I have always wanted you."
Sherlock wasn't sure who moved first but suddenly they were hugging in the middle of their living-room and it came close to perfect when John's lips found Sherlock's for the sweetest kiss he had ever experienced.
"Hot chocolate with biscuits and a Doctor Who marathon?" John murmured against his lips and Sherlock replied with another kiss before he slung his arms around John and held onto his own personal miracle with all he had. There was still so much that could go wrong but Sherlock was sure that he would never regret his decision. Not for as long as he was allowed to hold John in his arms.
