The head or the heart.

Mary or Sherlock.

In the end, it wasn't much of a choice. It never really was, John supposes. The moment Sherlock came back into his life was the end of everything else. Although, the prospect of being with Sherlock was frightening. The man already possessed so much of John, he didn't know what would happen once Sherlock got ahold of that last piece.

They we're so ridiculously codependent that John was almost certain this advancement in their relationship couldn't be healthy. But, what could he do? The heart wants what the heart wants.

John had decided the day before that today would be the day he'd talk to Mary. He couldn't put it off any longer, he owed her that much. After he told Sherlock of his plans he gave John a look that screamed 'finally!' and all but pushed him out the door. The look made John wonder how long Sherlock had harbored his feelings for John. However, he pushed the thought aside; right now, was about him and Mary.

Which left him now, standing at her door, fist poised to knock. But, before he could, the door opened before him.

Mary stood there in all her glory, tight lipped and fingers squeezing the door frame just a tad too hard.

"John," she says, voice devoid of any emotion.

"Mary," he stands straighter, tries not to fidget. "May I come in?"

She looks like she's weighing her options and several seconds pass before she inclines her head and lets him pass.

And John thinks, by her hesitation, that she knows what he's come here to say. How could she not? John's been away for so long, leaving her without an even so much as a text message. He knew, she knew, now all he had to do was get the words out.

She motions for him to sit on couch across from her and he does. She looks at him politely, as if she's waiting for him to speak, but as soon as he opens his mouth the look turns sour. "So, you've made up your mind then?"

John heaves out a great sigh, "Mary," he starts, but she bulldozes over him, fueled by her anger.

"I was there for you John! I was always there for you."

And he knows, God does he know. She was there completely and always, when he slipped and fell, she'd picked him back up. When it all got too much, she was there with a shoulder to lean on. She was always there, John owed her everything.

"I know," John says running his hands down his face. "I know."

"Then why?" there was slight break to her voice. A small exposure that showed she wasn't as angry and untouchable as she liked to portray.

"Because I love him," John said simply.


She's upset, understandably, doesn't want to see him for a while—possibly ever. He can't help but feel that a small part of him is gone with their relationship and he vaguely wonders if this is the symbolic loss that his therapist was trying to tell him about.

He picks up a takeaway on his way back to 221B and he can admit that he's stalling. Taking his time because he really doesn't know where he and Sherlock stand at this moment. Sure, he left his girlfriend for the man and said man seemed all for that. But, he didn't think Sherlock had ever been in a relationship before, hell, the man barely even had a real friend before John came along. He'd never really seen Sherlock as the relationship type and he definitely didn't see him doing any relationship type things.

The only thing that he was certain of that he couldn't be apart from Sherlock again and he knew that Sherlock felt the same way about John.

He enters their flat and instead of a hello, Sherlock greets him with a "Is it done?" He says it so matter of factly, like John has just dropped off the mail and not just broken up with one of the most important people of his life. He sets the food in the kitchen and walks back into the living room.

"Yes, Sherlock."

And John guesses Sherlock can see the weariness on his face or hear the fatigue in his voice because he slowly rises from his chair and walks steadily over to John.

John closes his eyes as Sherlock brings his hands up around either side of John's face. But, Sherlock doesn't say anything just leans his forehead against John's as they breathe in tandem.

John breaks the silence first, "I choose you, Sherlock," it came out as a whisper. "I always have."

Sherlock's head presses harder into John's, "I know," he says at the same volume.

Sherlock had to know what this meant, had to know how important this was and there was no going back. He was John's and John was his, that was the way it was and the way it was going to be forever.

"You can't leave again," John thinks this might unfair to ask of him, what with their hectic life, but he can't help it. Down the road, when they can stand to be away from each other for more than a couple hours, he needs to know that Sherlock won't go.

"I won't, John." His voice his steady and strong, filled with a promise John knows he can trust.

Sherlock back's up, releasing his hold on John face and John opens his eyes again. Staring into the blue that he loved so much. Sherlock's mouth was set in a firm line and his brows were furrowed.

"I won't," he repeats resolutely. Like he needs John to understand.

John smiles, he understands, "Alright."

They stand there for a moment, just looking. It's one of those moments that would have made any bystander completely uncomfortable. And John can't believe that this is happening, but really, it's the next logically step. Maybe all those people assuming he and Sherlock where dating before were on to something. Maybe it just took a couple of life altering events for them to see it.

"John," Sherlock says, dragging John's attention back towards him, "John, I'm going to kiss you now."

John can't help the bubble of laughter that makes its way from his throat, "You don't have to announce yourself, Sher—"

Before John can finish his sentence Sherlocks' mouth is on his and John's laughter dies on his lips. Sherlock's moving hesitatingly and awkwardly, but his lips are just as soft as John remembers. He lets Sherlock lead for a while before placing both his hands on the back of Sherlock's neck, pulling him further down. Then John's kissing him slow and deep, running his tongue over Sherlocks bottom lip, making him gasp. Sherlocks hands find purchase on Johns waist as he steps closer, their bodies now completely flush against one another.

John pushes his tongue into Sherlock's mouth and tracing it over the back of Sherlocks teeth and when the man shutters into him, John pulls away. He doesn't want to go too fast, doesn't want to rush into things. He's not sure of what Sherlock has and hasn't done, John doesn't know Sherlock's limits.

Sherlock looks dazed when his opens his eyes, staring at John longingly. His lips are a bit kiss swollen and John thinks he could stand here and look at him forever. But he doesn't, he pulls Sherlock by the hand into the kitchen claiming they need to eat.

He isn't the least bit surprised when Sherlock actually does.


They don't say they that love each other, because word seems too small, too mundane for how they feel. What did you call someone who was your entire life? John didn't think there was a word for it, neither did Sherlock.

John's worries about giving Sherlock that last piece of himself was unfounded. As it turns out when you give someone your everything and they give you theirs in return, it feels like you aren't missing anything at all.

And although he still hurts about Mary, it's a dull ache that he hardly ever notices. And even then, he only mourns for the loss of previous friendship and everything he thought he still owed her. But, Sherlock more than makes up for every minute stab of pain with explosions of happiness. John doesn't think the reverse would be true if he had chosen differently.

Sherlock keeps his promise. He never goes anywhere without John and John suspects that he, himself, never goes anywhere without Sherlock. Whoever thought that the two of them couldn't get any more inseparable, were wrong. If they were close before, they might as well be conjoined now. All pretense of trying to stay away a respectable distance away for the benefit of others flew out the window the day of their second kiss.

Sherlock wants everyone to know that John is his and he is Johns'. Where John was never really a big fan of PDA before, he basically had no choice with Sherlock. Whether it was lap sitting in a cab or on the underground, hanging off John at restaurants, or even kissing him in the middle of conversation with Lestrade at crime scene. Sherlock had no restraints.

And John's reservations about Sherlock being 'boyfriend material' also turned out to be baseless. Although Sherlock wasn't great at expressing his more intimate emotions about John, he was becoming exceedingly good at showing them. Comforting John with his physical presence rather than with words, showing John when he wanted something romantic instead of asking him. Just little things that were so entirely Sherlock Holmes.

As for physically being together, Sherlock had no qualms and was in fact eager; which John will admit, mildly surprised him. The thought of Sherlock being with anyone that way was completely foreign to John. When John brings this up Sherlock shakes his head claiming he'd never had sex before, never even had a reason to try until now. And John thinks he's lucky, having something from Sherlock that will always be his and no one else's.

Which leads to now, both of them sated and sweaty underneath a sheet. Sherlock on his side pressed up against John and John on his back with his eyes closed.

"Look at me," Sherlock says, finally having caught his breath.

John does, he turns his head and looks at Sherlock. He always looks at Sherlock, he never stops looking at him.

"I want to tell you something," a look of frustration passes across his face and John can't help but think he looks adorable. "However, even with my vast vocabulary, I cannot seem to find the right word."

John knows exactly what he means, exactly what he's trying to say. There's no word, he knows, nothing to describe this feeling.

"I know," John said.

Sherlock looks at John with eyes he can't quite place and says the nearest word he could find. Then, it's out there, floating in the hairs breath that's between them.

"I love you, John"

It's the closest they could get, they're only synonym to their anonymous word that had no equal. It feels good, John thinks, to hear it out loud. He knew, of course he knew, but it's a whole other thing to hear the words from Sherlocks mouth.

"I love you, too, Sherlock."

John supposes they do say it.


That's all folks. Thanks for reading.