Chapter ten

You Are My Salvation

A/N: So...I'm not exactly sure where this chapter is headed or what the point of it is really...it's kind of a filler chapter or a 'the morning after' chapter maybe? But of course with a little bit of angst ;) Aha..I feel like I've sort of gone off on one of those mad writer's tangents...But hey ho...I'll put it up anyway and try and figure out where exactly I'm going to go with this story... :P Anyway I'll leave you to read now... :D

John woke early the next morning to find a sleeping Sherlock snuggled up to him tightly. He had one arm draped over John's chest possessively as well as a leg hitched over one of John's. His head was burrowed into John's chest, ear resting over his heart as if he had been listening to the steady beat of it as he fell asleep.

The image before him sent waves of warmth to his very core and he wriggled slightly under Sherlock, attempting to feel even closer if that were at all possible, smiling in utter contentment.

He honestly couldn't remember ever being this happy. He thought about how different his life had become since he had met Sherlock Holmes. John searched his memory for a time when he had been hugged like this, but his mind could conjure no such time. And yet now he was lying in his bed - safe, happy and being cuddled by Sherlock Holmes of all people. Brilliant, enigmatic, genius Sherlock. Who was also now; kind, comforting, loving Sherlock.

Although John realised that these were not usual or frequent aspects of Sherlock's character, he believed that they were parts of him that had always been but just kept hidden, rather than being new developments. People just hadn't given him the chance to be kind.

As John lay silently contemplating, he felt Sherlock stir and sigh softly before his eyelids fluttered, opening to reveal two large, azure eyes. But that was only in this lighting. Sherlock's eyes truly were indescribable. The colour changed with the lighting as much as it did with his mood.

But now those brilliant eyes stared up at him, adoring, as if the sun shone from John's own. And his lips spread into a broad grin as he said "Good morning."

"That it is." Said John, unabashedly happy.

"It's Saturday today. That means we've got the whole day to ourselves. We could go into the village if you like. It's not far from school - about a ten minute walk."

"Sounds good." He smiled, "Not even a week in and I'm already eager to see the back of this place."

Sherlock laughed. "I don't blame you." But then he sobered slightly, asking, "If you could, would you go back home? Back to your old school?"

John thought for a moment and then said, "You know, at first I was pretty devastated to leave - my school that is. Not home. But now...I dunno, I think...well I've never had someone quite like you in my life before...and well, it feels like I've gone in for a penny and come out with a pound...I'm sorry, that probably doesn't make any sense..."

"That's what I like best about you. You don't make sense. Every time I think I've got you figured out, you surprise me." He smiled but then added, looking pensive; "And I'm not often surprised."

"Oh is that it, I'm a puzzle to be solved." John joked lightly. "It's starting to make a lot more sense why you stick with me now."

But Sherlock turned his face fully towards him, pushing himself up and leaning over John, arms bracing him and placed either side of John's head. "I stick with you John Watson, because you are brilliant. You are kind and brave, even though you don't know it, and you somehow manage to ground me while making me feel like I'm soaring upwards, never to fall down, simultaneously. But most of all, I stick with you because you are you, John. and that is a fantastic thing to be. And don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise."

Sherlock was breathing heavily, recovering from his slightly rushed but truly honest speech. John just exhaled once, staring at him wide eyed and then he grabbed Sherlock's shirt and pulled him down on top of him roughly, crushing their lips together desperately.

Sherlock responded to the kiss immediately, shifting his legs to straddle John's hips. John ran his fingers though Sherlock's hair, tugging at his curls as he had before, extracting a small whimper from Sherlock. John decided it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard as he rolled them over suddenly, John now sitting on top of Sherlock who looked slightly shocked and then he raised his head to capture John's lips again in his. John broke their lips apart just for a moment to whisper; "You're not often surprised, but when you are it's quite adorable." He smiled down at him playfully.

Sherlock stared at him eyes wide and laughed, but was then silenced by John pressing butterfly kisses to his neck, moving down in a line towards his collar bone. Sherlock closed his eyes and ran a hand down John's back - carefully avoiding John's arms this time. He didn't know why that was a sensitive point, but he had noticed it nonetheless.

After a morning of lazy kisses wrapped up in covers and warmth, they finally decided to leave the bed and go into the village.

As they exited through the school gates and were walking along the road, Sherlock felt the impulse to hold John's hand. But they hadn't exactly discussed that sort of thing yet. Come to think of it, they hadn't really discussed any of it yet. Sherlock knew that they weren't just friends, but they weren't exactly in a relationship either.

It was with this thought that Sherlock was reminded why he had always seen relationships as tedious and complicated.

They were simply themselves. Sherlock and John. They were not two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle which fit perfectly together to form one whole. They had their scuffed edges, faults in their paintwork. They were however, two people who found a sort of solace in one another. Two people who wanted each other. Needed each other. And wasn't that enough? Why the need to label something so wonderful and unique with such a prosaic term? Categorize it, just so it fits in neatly with the rest of society.

What they had was singular and it was theirs. But still Sherlock could not help thinking; and what is it exactly?

But as he was pondering over this, he felt John grab his hand and thread his fingers between Sherlock's. Sherlock looked down at him; calculating, but John simply smiled back up at him and then faced forward again and carried on walking. Hand holding is acceptable then.

Sherlock squeezed John's hand gently and felt his lips tug at the corners, forming a small, private smile. Holding John's hand was more than acceptable, it was fantastic.

"Fancy a coffee then?" John asked as they approached the local village, nodding towards the coffee shop on their right called Angelo's.

"Most definitely." Sherlock smiled.

As John went up to the counter to order their coffees - Sherlock's; black, two sugars, John's; cappuccino - Sherlock found them a table at the back.

The woman at the counter told him to go and take a seat, smiling at him and telling him she'd bring their drinks over in a minute. John thanked her and turned to walk over to Sherlock, but as he did he saw an all too familiar figure sitting opposite Sherlock.

He squared his shoulders and walked forward briskly, grabbing a chair from another table and sitting it next to Sherlock. He glowered at the floor, refusing to grace Jim with his gaze.

Jim smiled at him and said; "Ah, John. Nice of you to join us." John drew his eyes from the floor and threw a dark glare at Jim, then turned his head to Sherlock saying "Look. Let's just go."

"Oh John. You're not going anywhere." Jim said in a soft, dangerous tone.

John raised his eye brows challengingly and stood, grabbing Sherlock's hand and pulling him up with him. "Sherlock. We're leaving." Sherlock stared at him; calculating, but rising all the same.

"Come now John, remember what I told you; our secrets keep us close. I sincerely hope you're not trying to avoid me."

John froze, grinding his teeth. Sherlock looked between them quickly, desperate to find something, anything that would give away this secret.

"Sit, Johnny boy."

John flinched at the pet name and turned swiftly to look down at Jim with a muted anger. That was when he saw the consequences of his anger from the previous night. One of Jim's eyes was purple and swollen and he had a bust lip, along with other small cuts scattered across his face.

"You did cause quite a mess to my face, John. It's quite the inconvenience."

John gave a short, humourless laugh and said quietly in a severe tone "Touch me again and I won't hold back this time."

Jim just smiled darkly at him, "My patience is wearing thin Johnny boy. Sit."

"You can't make me do anything. You don't scare me."

Jim looked pensive as he said, "No, true, but I do know someone who does. Have you seen how he is around him, Sherlock? It's quite sweet really, such a submissive little puppy when he's afraid. He'll do anything. But you know what the sweetest part is? It's not a fear for himself, but a fear for someone else. That's how you own John Watson, you hurt the thing he loves. Isn't that so romantic Sherlock. But...also, so pathetic." His eyes darkened. "To care so much." He said the word as though it tasted sour on his tongue. "It makes you weak. Vulnerable. Wouldn't you agree Sherlock?"

Sherlock only stared at him, analysing between Jim's masked words.

John was stood stiffly, glaring at a point on the wall of the café. His hand seemed to have taken on a slight tremor which was noticed by both Sherlock and Moriarty.

"Sit down, John. Don't make me really try to scare you." His eyes flickered over Sherlock and John's followed. He swallowed back his pride and clenched his fists, then took Sherlock's hand again and sat down.

Sherlock attempted to slide his hand out of John's; aware of Jim's ever knowing gaze. If Jim knew how much he cared about John, if he knew his weakness, it could only end badly.

But of course, Jim hadn't missed a thing and his eyes followed as John's now free hand fell beneath the table to rest protectively on Sherlock's knee.

"What's going on here Sherlock? You told me John wasn't into boys...Ooh you are naughty. I hope you weren't lying to me."

John looked up at Sherlock with a hurt look. "So this is just friendship to you then?" He said under his breath, slowly sliding his hand off Sherlock's knee.

"John. Not now." Sherlock hissed.

"Why? Because Jims here? Because you don't want him to know that you're currently with someone so pathetic."

"John." Sherlock warned him. "Don't do this." He whispered, desperate to protect him from Moriarty's gaze which was seeping with comprehension.

He smiled up at them. "Oh boys. That is sweet. Isn't it?" But he wasn't asking them, he seemed to be speaking to himself now. "Sherlock and John." His eyes suddenly darkened as he added "Yes. Very sweet."

"Although...I never would have taken you for the type to settle for something, Sherlock."

John clenched his fist under the table.

"But is it worth it, Sherlock, really? Trying to love something so broken? I bet he still freaks out when you touch him..." His black eyes seemed to travel to an even deeper level of darkness as he leaned over the small table closer to Sherlock.

Sherlock didn't flinch away from Jim's approaches, adamant to remain in power and unaffected by Jim.

"Does it make you mad, Sherlock..." He leaned closer still. "That you can't run your fingers down his arms, pin them against the wall..." He ran a lean finger along Sherlock's arm as he spoke. "...That when your hot breath ghosts over his neck he panics..." Jim's lips brushed ever so slightly over Sherlock's neck. Sherlock felt his eyes flutter closed for a fleeting second and a pressure building within him, before the loud screech of John's chair grounded him again, as he got to his feet suddenly.

"Right. Get off him. Now." John growled.

Jim smiled up at him wickedly, utterly pleased with himself.

"And I bet he still hasn't told you why." With that, he stood swiftly, smirked at the two tense forms stood before him and walked out of the café, never looking back. He didn't need to. He was well aware of the damage he had left behind him.

The waitress came up to their table and offered them their drinks but John pushed past her, seething. He stalked out of the café and began walking furiously down an alley way, no clue where he was going, knowing he just had to get out. Sherlock stood in shock for a moment, processing all that had just happened and filing it away for later observation. Then he ran after John calling "John! Wait! Where are you going? John. Stop." John wheeled around to glare at Sherlock.

"You two make quite the couple."

"Excuse me?" Sherlock countered. "I'll have you know I had no part in that. Whatever this ridiculous game between you two is."

"Well, you certainly didn't try and stop it! If anyone's the submissive puppy it's you!" John shouted breathlessly.

"John." Sherlock said calmly, understanding why John had latched onto those words out of all Jim had said. "I didn't do anything."

"Exactly!"

"You're not making any sense John!"

John tried to steady his breathing as he said "You could have done something. Said something."

"And what good would that have done? He wants a reaction John, you give that to him and you only feed his interest."

"Well you certainly gave him one alright."

"What?"

"What is this? What are we? Why won't you label it, tell Jim?"

"Why do we need to put a label on it? We just are."

"That doesn't mean anything though!"

"Well does it need to? Do you have to understand something to love it?"

This stopped John in his tracks. "What did you say?"

"What? Nothing I was just...I just meant..."

"Oh."

"Look John I...

"No Sherlock, you Look. I know okay. I get it. He's right. That's the worst part. The bastard is right. I am broken. You can't just study me and find a solution. I'm not a problem to be solved. There is no salvation for people like me. There is no light at the end of the tunnel. It just doesn't exist, and it never has...So you should just stop wasting your time with someone like me."

Sherlock just stared at him, brows furrowed. "What is it that you've done to make yourself feel so unsalvageable?"

"Sherlock. Please. Don't make me answer that."

"John how are we meant to be something if you don't even trust me? If you can't tell me things."

"You can have anything of me, Sherlock. I'd do anything for you. Just don't make me give you this. Please."

"John I can't stand this. What am I supposed to do when you won't even tell me things? How am I supposed to be with you?"

"You don't. Because you can't. Nobody can. Not now."

John raised his hands in a motion of giving in and turned to walk away.

Sherlock stared, wide eyed as he watched John walk away from him. No. That's not how it's supposed to end.

"Could I not be it?" John heard Sherlock call in a small voice. John stopped, but didn't turn around.

"Could I not be your...salvation? Because I would be John, if I could. I want to be. I want to so badly it hurts. I don't care about this secret, not if it means losing you. Because know this John, I will always choose you. Over anything. Anyone. You are always my choice."

John turned around slowly, eyes carrying a weight of sadness.

"But you've got to let me, John. Let me help you. Please." Sherlock's voice seemed to incline an octave on his last word and he just stood breathing shallowly, looking away.

John began walking towards Sherlock, then stopped. Biting down on his lower lip he exhaled heavily and then threw himself forward, crashing into Sherlock and capturing those lips with his own.

He broke them apart long enough to whisper; "I'm such an idiot. I didn't know. I didn't see it."

"What are y-"

"You already are. Day by day, you do save me. You are saving me, Sherlock."

Sherlock just smiled up at him broadly, eyes blown. "The feeling is mutual John." And then he pressed their lips together clumsily, rekindling the heat of the moment.

From a narrow side alley, a few paces away, a pale face with dark eyes saw the happiness before him and watched with a patient smile. Soon. He thought.

Well that's the end of this chapter guys, like I said...not quite sure where it was headed or what were in for next, but stick with it and I'll think of something ;) I'm trying to head towards a Christmas chapter and then end it there at New year...but THEN make a sequel, which delves a bit more into Sherlock and his past and carries on with the rest of their school year. Now this is talking quite ahead of ourselves and there will be quite a few more chapters to go with this part of the 'series' but do you think maybe you'd be interested in a sequel? If so I'd be delighted to write one! ;D As always, review and let me know what you think. :)

Thanks my lovely readers,

:D