So I thought this fic was closed for good, but I got a request for a part two, and I do always love to write when asked too. (Super not secret secret) So here is part two. :)
and I feel something so wrong with doing the right thing
I couldn't lie couldn't lie couldn't lie
everything that drowns me makes me wanna fly
Sherlock lay there, alone. He had been alone for what seemed like eons. John had left him. His John. The one who he gave up three years of his life to save. His best friend. Every day he wondered, if he could do it again, knowing what he knew now, would he still save John? And every day he had to beat himself for the same answer. Yes. The answer would always be yes. Because it didn't matter how John felt about him, he would always love John and do anything he could to save him. Sherlock was alone with his thoughts. Sometimes Mrs. Hudson came in to try and get him up and doing something, but Sherlock wouldn't have it. It seemed that after three years on the run, his body had finally found a stopping point. His mind too. Before his mind had been a swirl of thought process. Now there was only one constant. John. It was as if John was alive in his mind, so he never wanted to leave it.
Then, one day, something knocked on the edge of his consciousness. A voice, one he hadn't been hoping to hear ever again.
"Sherlock!" The mist over his eyes seemed to clear and then there was John, standing before him. For a moment, he thought he had imagined it. Was this going so far as to imaginary Johns prancing about the flat? But then John reached out and shook him by the shoulder, and Sherlock stared up at him.
"John." His voice was hoarse from misuse, "John, what are you doing here?" John knelt down to look at Sherlock on eye level.
"Mrs. Hudson called. Said you hadn't left the flat in weeks and that you had only been saying one word."
"I said something?" He wondered aloud, letting his eyes wonder over to the landlady.
"You only said 'John' dear." She told him. Sherlock didn't even feel it in himself to be embarrassed. He looked at John coldly, deducing him. He wasn't happy in his marriage, that much he could tell right away from his strained expression that seemed permanently etched onto his face.
"Leave us now Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock told the older woman, and she fumbled out of the flat in her silly way. John put a hand to Sherlock's face, brushing back his overgrown curls.
"What have you been doing?" He asked, worriedly. "You need to get up and go outside. Get back to the way things were."
"Things will never be the way they once were John. You told me that." Sherlock looked up at his best friend sadly. "Why aren't you happy?"
"This isn't about me now-,"
"It has always been about you. Why aren't you happy?" John seemed to rock back a little on his heels.
"I miss you."
"That's why you aren't happy?" John nodded, looking for all the world like he had given up.
"That's why I'm not happy. Because you're my best friend and I need you in my life."
"Oh."
"And because . . . I can't stop thinking of that day." John didn't have to say, Sherlock knew exactly what day he meant. It was a day that never fully left Sherlock's mind either. The day he kissed John, and then John had still left.
"What about it?" Sherlock asked. John shook his head and took a deep breath.
"Just . . . it made me wonder what things would have been like. What we could have had."
"We could still have it." Sherlock told him, his eyes flitting up to find his blogger's.
"We shouldn't . . ." John said as the men seemed to lean together.
"It will be okay." Sherlock reassured him right before their lips collided in a slow, soft kiss. Sherlock was stubbly from having not shaven in a while, but John didn't seem to mind. They embraced each other as if they had been underwater, drowning, and now they were coming up for air. Sherlock sat up in his chair and pulled John into him, so that John sat in between his parted legs, his hands up on Sherlock's shoulders, Sherlock's hands tugging on John's sandy blonde hair, yanking him to his lips. They parted and leaned their foreheads together.
"Sherlock I love you." Sherlock felt as if the entire world stopped spinning, and froze, right on that moment.
"I love you too John." He breathed against his best mate's lips. "Please don't-," He kissed John again, "Please don't leave me." He nuzzled into the crook in between John's neck and shoulder, just breathing him in. Soaking the moment in like sunlight. John's hands rubbed soothing circles on his back.
"I won't leave you again, Sherlock." John promised. And he never did.
WHAT?! A happy ending?! What the deuce? Don't get used to it.