IMPORTANT!
I've made a rather significant detail change.
John and Mary are ENGAGEDnot married. This story now happens after The Empty Hearse, after John proposes to Mary.
Obviously, this was originally going to be a one-shot where the last text also was unsent but then idk Lestrade popped up and the plot was like lolnope this is going to be a multi-chappy. I've already slightly altered the last three chapters, changing anything with "wife" to "fiancé" and anything with "married" to "engaged" as well as one small foreshadow hint in the second chapter:
-"The only light in the bedroom was from the moon through the window and the red numbers 1:21 AM from the digital clock. And strangely enough, Mary's engagement ring. Since Sherlock had returned, he had noticed she wasn't wearing it as often."—
There we go. That's everything I suppose. I hope you enjoy the rest of the fanfiction!
(To be clear, I'm mostly doing this because it makes everything so much less complicated. Mary is not pregnant nor will she get to be in this fanfiction. Divorce also doesn't sit well with me.)
Warnings: I turned fluff to the maximum for the beginning. I don't know whether to apologize or say you're welcome.
WOW THAT WAS LONG HERE YOU GO THE NEXT CHAPTER:
Unsent
Chapter Four
They fell into comfortable silence, somehow making a throne of the bathroom floor. John laid his head on Sherlock's bare shoulder and the latter seemed to have no problem with this. John's hands traced lovingly over Sherlock's chest. I'm sorry, the fingers kissed, as long as I'm alive, you'll never go through this again.
Time passed slowly, though neither of them paid any attention to the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock. It only reminded them that some time they would have to let go, and they never wanted that to happen. They knew they would have to be forced to make some decisions. They knew they would be forced to face feelings that neither of them had seen before. But right then, it was all so simple. It was pure and innocent love that they had found themselves stuck in… but neither of them regretted it.
They fell deep and they fell hard, all at once, and it all started with an idea, two hearts, and a text that was never meant to be sent. Or was it? Fate worked in strange ways.
Sherlock felt John's hands in his hair. "I've always wanted to touch your hair," John admitted softly so not to break the thin protection shield from them and the rest of the world. "It'd always looked soft."
"Is it?" Sherlock asked. He was sure he'd never seen more beautiful eyes.
John's smile made Sherlock's heart flutter in its cage. He nodded and leaned up and kissed his temple. "I love you," he whispered breathlessly, "Oh God do I love you."
Sherlock's face heated up which made John laugh. "I-I suppose the feeling is returned," he stammered awkwardly.
John's warm hand rubbed over Sherlock's shoulder. "You don't say that. You say 'I love you, too, John,'" he leaned closer, his eyes prodding in anticipation.
"Doesn't what I said have virtually the same meaning?"
"Just say it!" John glared but there was no hardness.
Sherlock gave a childish sigh. "I love you, too, John."
"Say it like you mean it," John started to lean closer and closer.
"I- I love- John you're too— Mmph!"
John kissed Sherlock again, relishing the warmth that radiated off his cheeks. He made Sherlock blush. He made Sherlock blush. He made Sherlock blush. No matter how you said it, it still sounded like a lie. But it wasn't.
Sherlock kissed back tentatively, still learning. Their eyes were shut and the kiss was slow. In just the smallest break, Sherlock pulled away just long enough to say I love you, too, John, in a voice so deep and breathless I sent a shudder down John's back.
"Did that suffice?" Sherlock's eyes opened.
John blinked dumbly before laughing.
Sherlock's eyes narrowed, trying again, "I love you, too, John," he repeated. "How about that time?" which only made John laugh harder. Sherlock opened his mouth again to try once more but John stopped him with a hand firmly in the center of his chest.
"It was fine the first time," John said in a fit of giggles. He was sure he was the only one that ever laughed with Sherlock Holmes, and he treasured such a fact.
"Well you could have told me!" Sherlock huffed. "I would have taken a better note," he mumbled afterwards.
John raised his eyebrows. "You take notes?"
"Of course," Sherlock seemed appalled by the idea he wouldn't take notes.
"What would you need notes for?"
Then he got the you're-an-idiot-Anderson look.
"Well I have to know what you like," Sherlock pointed out. "How else would I know if I didn't take note of how you respond to my actions?"
John sat back with a silly grin. "Fine then, what do I like, professor?"
Now, this was Sherlock's area.
"You respond rather well when I blush for whatever reason. Maybe you find it cute. Maybe you're the only one who's probably seen me like that. You like it when my voice gets lower and when my hand is here," touched the nape of John's neck, seeing his pupils blatantly dilate. "You seem to touch my skin a lot, which probably implies you'd like me to do the same. Though you enjoy danger, you tend to like times to calm down. The mix is what turns you on. "
Sherlock's eyes scanned down John's body again, taking any body language that he may have been off on a deduction or two.
John gave an impressed huff of air. "Is everything science to you?"
"Well naturally there are various types of sciences, each part of the world fitting into one of the categories, so obviously everything is science to everybody, they only choose to ignore it. This would be more on the chemistry side, your body's chemical reaction to each of the things I—"
"All right, all right!" John interrupted, knowing if he didn't stop Sherlock soon he'd end up reciting the periodic table.
Their voices died down again after that. Neither had anything to say and neither of them felt the need to fill the air with mindless chatter (which was another thing Sherlock loved about John). After a while though, John found his voice again.
"As much fun as this is, couldn't we just go to the couch to cuddle? The floor's kind of uncomfortable."
"I don't cuddle."
"You do. We are. Right now."
"I'm sitting here. You're laying on me."
"While cuddling."
Sherlock sent him a halfhearted glare and John couldn't help but smile. He tugged his arm as he stood up, bringing Sherlock with him. Sherlock stumbled as he stood, following John as he hopped into Sherlock's chair and pulled his wrist as to say "hop in, the water's fine!"
"It doesn't seem like there's be room for—"
"Get on!"
John pulled Sherlock on top of him, wanting to laugh as he saw Sherlock's face heat up again. Sherlock's hands were by John's shoulders and he was propped up over him. He knew he was new to this type of thing, but did two people honestly squeeze into a spot made for one just to "cuddle"? It seemed illogical and uncomfortable.
John's arms wrapped around Sherlock's neck and pulled him down, making his arms give out and he fell onto him. John smiled and wriggled until they both fit comfortably, Sherlock's face by his shoulder and hid legs curled in on top of John's chest. John's legs hung off the edge of the chair.
"Can I at least put a shirt back on?" Sherlock cleared his throat, trying to hide his embarrassment.
"No," John ran his hands down Sherlock's bare back with a small smile. He'd never seen Sherlock act so human.
Sherlock gave a childish pout. "It isn't fair you get to have a shirt on," he reasoned.
"Want me to take it off?" he turned his head to face Sherlock and his hands moved to the top of his shirt.
"No, I didn't mean that!" Sherlock's face turned even redder much to John's enjoyment and his hand pushed John's away from his shirt.
John couldn't help laughing this time.
"I meant you have a shirt on so I should, too! You know I meant that!" Sherlock glared at him.
John laughed harder, only making Sherlock's glare intensify.
"You're so cute," John laughed and kissed him again.
"I'm not cute!" Sherlock glared at him again, which only looked silly when he was blushing.
"You are," John's smile softened and the kiss became sweeter.
Sherlock's anger (so to speak) faded down and he returned the kiss. He never found the point of kissing until that day. He'd kissed people before purely as experiment to find out why humans seemed to be obsessed with it, but it seemed pointless. It was gross if anything. Why would you want someone else's spit in your mouth? And then Sherlock kissed John.
"I'm a man. I can't be cute," Sherlock argued again in a small, mumbling voice.
John only shook his head. "You're adorable when you try to pretend you don't like to cuddle or when you blush. Or when you're clingy like last night. Your eyes light up when you realize something. It's a Sherlock kind of cute."
"John," Sherlock said softly. "What's going to happen now?"
John blinked in surprise. Where had that come from? "What do you mean?"
"You're engaged," Sherlock's voice was softer, but being so closer to John's ear, he was heard.
The words stopped John's heart. It was amazing how much he forgot since that morning. Forgot or simply ignored?
"John?" Sherlock asked when John didn't respond.
"I don't know."
Sherlock got up enough to look at John's eyes. To judge his body correctly. "I'm not going to let you cheat on your soon-to-be-wife," he said sternly, getting off him.
John felt so alone when Sherlock got off.
"Sherlock I—"
"You can't do this," he said, his voice laced with thin anger. "You can't play both of us. You're engaged to her. Forget everything that happened today and last night. "
John felt a wave of fear shower over him. He didn't want all of this to end. He'd never felt so alive as he had that day.
Sherlock stalked back to his room and closed the door, curling up on the bed again. It felt so empty. He rolled to the side John was on last night, taking a deep breath.
"Caring is not an advantage," he chanted to himself as he willed himself to ignore the presence just outside his door, fist set ready to knock.
He didn't know whether to feel disappointed or relieved when he heard John leave.
