A/N: An here it is the final chapter. I hope you enjoy it and that you enjoyed the whole story.
Thanks, as always to old ping hai who made this worth reading.
Sherlock waited five minutes after John left before he made his way to the sitting room. He sighed, plucking at the strings of his violin without picking it up. He sighed again and then moved to the couch, unable to take solace in his violin just then. Maybe later. He flopped down unceremoniously on the couch.
Just as he had settled in for a good, long strop he heard Mrs. Hudson call out, "Sherlock! You have guests!"
Guests, plural. Eliminating the soft, slow, shuffling steps of his landlady, he could make out two distinct male footsteps. One carrying a cane or…
"Go away, Mycroft. You, too, Ford!"
He heard the warm chuckle of his eldest brother and looked up to see both his brothers standing at the door.
"We aren't going anywhere, Lockie," Sherrinford huffed.
"Fine," Sherlock pouted and rolled to face the back of the couch. "But that doesn't mean I have to acknowledge your presence."
"Well," Mycroft said, "that just makes it easier, I assure you." He moved into the room and sat in John's arm chair, while Sherrinford sat in Sherlock's.
"It has come to my beloved's attention that our dear brother has fallen in love with his flatmate," the eldest Holmes started.
"So it appears," Mycroft agreed.
"It's really too bad that John is with that delightful young lady…What's her name?"
"Mary," Mycroft supplied.
"Yes, Mary. Everything the good doctor could want. Smart, clever, beautiful and of course, with the right bits."
Sherlock growled and pressed a pillow over his head to block them out. They naturally ignored this and continued on.
"It seems to me that John isn't as straight as he makes himself out to be; after all, no one's sexuality is set in stone," Mycroft said.
"Precisely."
"According to Liya, the poor girl is having doubt about how strong her relationship is with John," Sherrinford went on.
At this Sherlock bolted straight up.
"I can't say I'm completely surprised. Not with John getting shot and kidnapped in the same month," Mycroft sighed.
"Quite; apparently she hasn't the constitution for the constant worry."
"Poor girl," the middle Holmes purred. "Of course if they do break up, a free John does not equate to a John willing to return Sherlock's affections. If only there were a way to know for sure."
And then the two elder Holmeses began to count down backward from five. "Five-four-three-two-one…" just as they reached the end, the front door slammed open and they stood up together.
John stopped at the door, shocked to see all three of the Holmes brothers in his flat.
"We were just leaving, weren't we My?" Sherrinford told John, and Mycroft nodded.
"Oh, yes. Good day, John." And with that, the elder Holmes brothers strolled out, wrapped in an air of smug superiority, leaving a breathless blogger and a dazed detective behind.
"What were they doing here?" John asked, but then held up his hand to forestall Sherlock's answer. "There's something I want to get out first." The dark-haired man gulped and nodded. "I've come a realization." The short doctor walked over the couch and sat next to his best friend. He sighed and then changed his mind on what he wanted to say. He decided he should work up to that, instead of just blurting it out. So instead he exclaimed, "Mary and I have decided to break up."
"Why? I mean- I heard…" Sherlock waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the door his brothers had recently exited. "But-" his brilliant mind failing him as he tried to speak.
"The great Sherlock Holmes, at a loss of words? A rare sight indeed." The detective blushed. "We're still friends, Mary and I. We've just decided that we loved other people more than we loved each other."
"Clearly, for Mary it was Victor; but for you? Whom could you possibly love more than her?" Sherlock was afraid to hope it was he. He strolled over to the mantle and removed something, hidden beneath the skull and tossed it to John. "And what are you going to do with that?"
John caught the object with ease. He looked at the small. black velveteen box in his hands and sighed. He opened it gently and nestled in its white interior was a small silver ring with a fire opal in its setting.
"She said the opal reminded her of her father. I was going to bring the past to her future," John half-whispered more to himself than to Sherlock but the detective nodded anyway.
John smiled, "Do you think Mrs. Hudson will like it?" They stared at each other for a moment and then one began to chuckle. The other followed and soon they were laughing.
"I love this," John sighed happily once they caught their breath. Sherlock never understood the saying 'his heart stopped" until that very moment. His best friend was so close to the words he desperately wanted to hear.
"I love our life, Sherlock, wounds and kidnappings withal. I wouldn't change a thing." Sherlock released the breath he had been holding with a pained sigh. "Well…almost," John added and hope flared once again in the detective.
The army doctor blushed. "I know I'm suppose to be the knowledgable one when it comes to emotions, feelings, and relationships, but it's hard to take that leap when you think you've found the love of your life."
"John…" Sherlock breathed, unsure.
The short blond took the tall detective's hand in his and began rubbing circles, afraid to look up. The younger man lifted his best friend's chin gently until they were eye to eye.
John gulped, "Actions speak louder than words, right?"
"Usually," Sherlock agreed.
"Good," and he leaned forward to press his lips to the other's. The detective gasped and then pushed forward, deepening the kiss.
"Good?" Sherlock echoed.
"Hell, Sherlock. That was more than good. That was fantastic. Brilliant even. As far as first kisses go, that has to be the best," John murmured, breathless.
"Well, as far as first kisses go, I wouldn't have anything to compare that to."
"Yeah?"John asked and Sherlock nodded. "Then we'll go at your pace. I've done this sort of thing before. Well, maybe not with men, but I've done all the other bits of a relationship. So, if you want to take a year to have sex or never, I'm fine with that. If you want to shag like rabbits on the carpet right now, I sure as hell wouldn't say no." The taller man blushed.
"Alright, I take that as a no to the shagging right now and that's okay, Sherlock. A relationship doesn't have to be about sex. Do I like sex? Of course I do, but if you don't, I won't go anywhere else for it. I'm here with you."
"Thanks, John."
"Anything for you, love."
"Will you go with me to the opera?"
John sighed. "Apparently, anything but that. You see, this idiot didn't even realize that it was me you wanted to go with, and on top of that, I went and took a late shift at the surgery that night," he explained with a wince. Sherlock looked crestfallen. "But, I will promise you this, Sherlock Holmes, our first date will be magnificent." The detective brightened considerably.
"Just promise me that you'll go. That you won't pass up this opportunity of a lifetime?" John urged.
The other man nodded and wrapped his arms around his love. They lay together on the couch, curled around each other until they fell asleep. That was where Mrs. Hudson found them later on when they had been quiet for too long and decided she had better check on them. She went away muttering about only needing one bedroom now.
The past week had been glorious for Sherlock. Knowing that not only was he able to openly admire John, to be in his arms, to kiss those lips, his friendships with with Mary and Victor flourished. Granted, he had had to bash Victor and John's heads to make them see that they could be at least civil for the sake of the loved ones. Though, John maintained, no one was good enough for Mary.
But some of the warmth of the last week was starting to seep out as he watched John get ready for his late shift.
"I wish you didn't have to go," he pouted at his beau.
John smiled and moved to kiss the other's lips. "I know, love, but I'll make it up to you as promised." Sherlock nodded. "Just go and enjoy Don Giovanni. You won't regret it," the doctor told his partner, running his fingers through the detective's hair. The younger man leaned into the touch, feeling slightly mollified. John chuckled, watching his love arch into the caress like a cat. John bent down and gave Sherlock one last kiss before heading out.
The dark-haired detective huffed and went to get himself ready. He went through the motions slowly, his excitement dimmed at the thought of John not being there. Finally, he could not put off his departure any longer and left the confines of the flat to hail a taxi.
Sherlock spent the trip to the National Theatre in silence, watching the blur of London through the window. Once there, he paid the driver and made his way to the entrance of the theater.
About twenty feet from it, he stopped. There, standing a few steps away from the doors, was a very dapper-looking John Watson. The tall, dark-haired man forgot to breathe. He strolled over to the shorter blond and kissed him, right there on the spot.
John chuckled into the kiss, pleased at Sherlock's reaction. "You like my surprise, then?"
"I liked that you could surprise me," the other man retorted.
John smiled, " I did have some help…" he admitted.
"My family, I presume?"
The doctor nodded shyly as Sherlock pulled out his mobile and sent a mass text to Liya, Sherrinford, and Mycroft:
Thank you. -SH
"Shall we, then?" John asked, indicating with his head the direction of the Theatre and pulling out the other ticket. Sherlock blinked in astonishment.
"You never stop surprising me," Sherlock murmured into his love's ear.
The pair of them couldn't stop smiling as they made their way to their seats. They enjoyed the show and came out chatting excitedly about what they had just seen.
"I enjoyed it more than I thought I would," John told his partner, "though I don't doubt that some of that was you whispering the translation in my ear."
Sherlock chuckled warmly, "If you like that one, I think you'd enjoy Rigoletto."
"Oh? Well, we'll go see it the next time it's in town."
"You would like to go again?" the detective inquired a little surprised.
"Why not? We both had a good time," the short blond murmured, taking the other man's hand.
Sherlock beamed down at his love, "Thank you, John. For everything." He looked around, "It's rather late, I doubt we'll find many decent restaurants open right now..." he trailed off as he saw the mischievous grin spread on John's face.
"Oh, I've taken care of that as well…"
They stepped into one of the waiting taxis and as John gave the address, Sherlock's eyebrows shot up.
"Angelo's?" he inquired and when his beau simply beamed at up at him, he leaned over to whisper in his ear, "I love you, John Watson."
"I love you, too, Sherlock."
A couple of weeks later, John got a call from Liya.
"Hey John," she greeted.
"Hey," he replied.
"So, how are things with Sherlock?"
"Just fine." If there was a question John had gotten tired of hearing in the last few days, that would be it. It was like people expected John to throw in the towel any day now.
"Oh, wrong question, I take it?" she asked.
"Something like that, yeah," he huffed into the phone.
"I guess the better question would be, 'how are you both settling into the relationship?'"
"Definitely a better question. We're fine. Not much of a change really. We acted like an old married couple to begin with. All that's really changed is the physical. The amount of touching we're allowed to do now," John explained.
"So, have you had sex yet?" she asked, a grin evident in her tone.
"Liya!" he yelled into the phone. "One, that's not any of your business. Two, why the hell is everyone under the impression that after we confessed our feelings for each other that we just hopped into bed and fucked like rabbits! And three, we are talking about the same person, right? He's not used to letting people into his space as it is. That level of intimacy is hard for him. We're taking things one step at a time. So, no. We haven't had sex yet."
"Fair enough," she said and John could almost see her raise her hands in surrender. "So, I'm sure by now someone has informed you that there were a number of us actively trying to get the two of you together?"
"Operation: Johnlock, right? Yeah, Ford told us."
"Good ol' Sherry, I can always count on him to relay the right information. How would you like a little payback?"
"Oh?" John asked interested.
"I'm going to get Mycroft together with that dashing Detective Inspector of yours."
John's grin could almost be described as feral, as he rumbled into the phone, "Count us in."
"Good. Operation: Mystrade is a go."