She was leaving me no choice. I had thought that simply keeping my mouth shut would be painful enough. Enough suffering for a life time. But Mary Morstan was going to pry my mouth open with each of her delicate fingers. I had wanted to just let John be happy. But she was going to make me suffer through John's denial.
She doesn't mean it like that.
She thinks he loves you.
She's trying to do what's best.
This isn't best.
My limbs have all frozen up, as I continue to stare at the message on the screen, my legs crossed, one arm draped over the back of the sofa. They won't move. I feel as if I've been punched in the stomach.
I sometimes don't move for hours anyway, John hasn't even noticed. But he's sitting next to me, taking off his shoes. Slowly I put my phone back down on the table and turn my head toward John.
"I know why she said hasn't said yes," I whisper. My mouth is very dry.
John looks to me. His anger is slowing into a look I do not like.
"What, how do you know, is it from the color of my jumper or something?" He's frustrated, to the point of digging his fingers into the sofa.
"No, I know because I've been talking with her. And not just the time I met her at dinner."
He looks immensely hurt. He clasps his hands together, and then runs them through his hair.
"Care to elaborate?" he asks. His eyes are dark.
"Mary noticed…something about me. She is supremely clever, John. She noticed, and she wants me to tell you, before she can decide her answer."
He probably doesn't have a bloody clue what I'm trying to say. I've never felt so terrified. There is no other option now. Mary has made certain of that. She has taken out an outliers that may interfere with John's ultimate happiness: including my stubborn fears.
"What, what did she notice about you? How long have you been talking without me?"
"It's only been a few times John, and it's always been for you."
I try to make it sound better but of course it sounds worse. John has shut his eyes tightly. Jaw clenched.
"For me? How could this be for me? Would you please, bloody just spit out what you're trying to say!"
Time has stopped. I take in all of John's features, one last time. The time before he leaves me, because that's what he'll do.
His eyes are shining with anger. But they're that bright blue. His hands are tightened into fists. His jumper is grey and a bit wrinkled, his hair is going off to the left side, falling into his left eye. Needs a trim.
No time left.
He's waiting for an answer.
I swallow. Need water. Can't leave the sofa.
"I'm trying to say I'm in love with you."
His anger is gone instantly. He blinks once. Twice. Three times. My heart is beating faster than I ever dreamed it could. I know that my already ghostly complexion has gone three shades whiter.
"You're not…you're not joking then, are you?" John asks, his voice composed.
"Not at all," I whisper.
"How long?" he asks. He looks so pained, suddenly.
"Five years."
He shakes his head, eyes watery.
"Oh, Sherlock. You've been so very stupid."
And before I can take in anything else, he's kissing me. His hand is on the back of my head. I try to move my lips with his, but I've gone into shock.
I've never been touched by someone I loved before.
I hold him as tight as I possibly can, my hand on the small of his back, and then John breaks away.
No, don't go.
"You know everything about everyone but you didn't see that I've loved you too. I thought of telling you when you came back, but I had just gotten you back, I didn't want to lose you again."
He's holding my head in both of his hands, his eyes intently on mine.
"Oh, how I know what you mean," I say.
"How could you not know?" he begs. He lays his forehead on mine, closes his eyes.
"I just…couldn't believe. I've been so scared."
"I know why," John announces, picking his head back up to fully look at me.
"Why?"
"You didn't think anyone could love you."
Then he presses his lips to mine again. I'm overwhelmed. It's hot, and I am happy but I'm also nervous. Never have I felt so many emotions, all for him.
Always composed, it's been an art form, and now I can't seem to stop all the sentiment that is dripping out of the chest cavity that has been broken into.
"I love you," John says.
I laugh softly.
"I love you."
You stand up.
"Will you come with me?"
"Yes," I say.
You take my hand.