Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: Thanks for all the love! I'm happy to see that everyone is confused. (evil laugh)
Beta: twolovesonestone
John spent the day in his cabin. He only ventured out for a smoke around noon and as he passed 221B he never paused, didn't even allow his head to flinch in the direction of that door.
Around five he was drying out his hair and pointing his mustache. He found it more relaxing than he should, maybe it was the soldier in him; demanding routine. The suit he had ironed before was laying over the bed and John walked his way over and stared at it.
It was just as old as the other suit, but John thought this one better fit his frame. It was black, just like every other tuxedo but it was the one he had worn to his sister's wedding. True, the marriage had ended on bad terms, but John tried to bask in the warm emotions that had happened during the ceremony.
At the time, John had desperately wanted it to be him standing at the alter. Not because he wanted to marry Clara, but he had wanted a love, someone to give his all too. He smiled at the thought of Irene. I could ask her tonight. Make my intentions known. John knew his pace might be considered 'reckless', but he needed to confirm that there was no ambiguity about his intensions.
More for himself than hers.
He scanned the ballroom for what seemed the hundredth time. John had been talking to Irene and her friends throughout the night. Although, whenever he tried to remember their conversations later he couldn't, as if the only real people on the Nautilus were him and Irene. Whenever John struggled to focus his thoughts on that his head hurt, so he took another sip of wine and concentrated on the feel of Irene's arm on his.
His head kept turning from side to side-searching for something...or someone. As he and Irene twirled around the room in a waltz, he kept seeking out the mysterious thing he needed.
"Darling, you seem distracted."
John whipped his head around, he didn't realize he had been spacing out at the wall. He opened his mouth to tell her the truth, he didn't want to lie to her; something held him back. He knew his mouth was hanging open.
"I do?" He leaned down to kiss her, it was better than continuing with what was going to say. Maybe because I was planning on asking you to marry me. John had felt so sure in his cabin, now being faced with the full force of what that statement meant, he hesitated.
Her kiss was sweet and John easily opened Irene's mouth to allow his tongue access. There was an emptiness of feeling. Why had he not realized before that the action between him and her was just lips on lips? It wasn't passion, there was definitely lust and his fingers ached to touch her, but his being wasn't affected. The inner self that made up more than just his body didn't desire her.
He knew what it desired.
Instead of stopping the kiss he deepened it. John was flooded with a fear that if Irene knew what was going on between him and Sherlock she would be angry; irate, and something terrible would happen.
He didn't hesitant, not tonight. John didn't even knock, he just opened the door to cabin 221B. Sherlock was staring out the small window, the moon was framing him in a soft glow. All the lights were off in the cabin. John strode up to Sherlock but paused a foot behind him.
He waited and Sherlock finally spoke. "I can't close this distance between us, only you, Dr. Watson, can do that."
"Don't call me that."
Sherlock never turned around, but John could see a shiver rock his shoulders. He refused to advance until he had it, something he ached to hear.
"John."
He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Sherlock's middle. His hands covered John's and frantically touched ever piece of skin they could. Sherlock turned around in John's grip and their eyes met.
To John's shock, Sherlock was more ghastly looking than before. His eyes had bags under them; dark and angry. Sherlock's mouth was strained, like he wanted to frown deeper but he was stopping himself.
John's thumb stroked against Sherlock's cheek bone. "God, are you all right?" John didn't try to mask his concern, he knew that Sherlock needed to hear it; starved for the emotion.
"No John. I can't do this for much longer, and I am terrified to death I won't be able to reach you in time."
John waited for Sherlock to cover his mouth with his, but Sherlock only brushed his hands on his back. John felt hurt and it shadowed over his face. Sherlock laughed, it sounded broken with no mirth.
"John, only you can do this."
Unbelievable, John still hesitated. He had never wanted anything more but a thought tugged at him drawing him away. Sherlock's face went from being broken to filled with anger. His lips thinned and his arms made fists with the material of John's jacket.
"Can't you see what's going on?!"
Sherlock looked strained that he had allowed his emotions to break. His hands released John, expecting him to walk away, leave like he had every night before.
John held on to him tighter. He locked eyes with Sherlock. He needed to convey this to Sherlock, yearned for him to understand. "I can't seem to understand anything right now, other than the fact that you are real." John brought his hands up to hold Sherlock's face. Sherlock closed his eyes and his breathing stilled, the anger draining out of him.
His lips brushed against Sherlocks, it was like hot irons. It hurt, almost to the point that he flinched away but John had known pain before and he refused to let it rule him. He pressed himself into Sherlock and his arms entangled him. John brought his lips away and then back again. The pain was no less great, but there was now a touch of release.
John had been searching for this release from Irene but she had never been able to provide it; no matter how many times they kissed. With barely a touch, Sherlock was able to give him what he craved. The unknown force in him begged for more, that with this man's touch, it could be strong again.
Sherlock stifled a groan as a John slipped his tongue into him. The burning in John's chest became heavier and he felt it radiating through his veins. It wasn't adrenaline, for the two forces were mixing, becoming one.
John opened his eyes and the moonlight had taken on a soft greenish glow. It gave Sherlock an impish look, John was convinced that the pale man was not of the human world. He was so fascinated by these thoughts, he didn't catch now Sherlock's eyes were widening in shock.
"John, god, you're..." The words were lost in Sherlock's throat.
John squinted his eyes. He moved his hand from behind Sherlock and brought it up to inspect it. His nails were emitting a green glow. It was gentle and outlined some of the veins in his palm. Instead of frightening him, it calmed him. This is what I was searching for, the part of me that had been sealed away. He flexed his hand and watched as the light danced.
Sherlock stood transfixed. John dragged his nails over Sherlock's cheek, there was a glittering path of emerald left were they made contact. He leaned into the touch and it was all John needed to know that the light did not scare Sherlock.
John drew his head back in again and this time the pain had vanished. There was only hot sticky lips gripping for more and more of each other. John moved his hand to Sherlock's hair and pulled at the curls on the nape of his neck.
Sherlock removed John's jacket and it slipped silently to the floor. Their movements became more frantic and Sherlock began to unbutton John's shirt, it followed its fallen comrade.
John shivered as the cool air hit his skin. Sherlock's hand tracked the rough skin that covered the wound on John's shoulder. It was an intimate gesture and it caused John's chest to tighten. Sherlock removed his lips and ducked down to place a feather kiss on this bullet wound.
John could feel liquid covering his eyes. The tear cling to his eyelash and trembled as it was released from him. It traced a path down his skin, John gasped and his eyes unfocused.
His chest tightened up like a top that was ready to spin out of control. His vision blurred and Sherlock held him up. He mumbled soothing words in his ear and over his skin. John caught the tail end of "Let it take you. Everything is safe. I'm here John."
John choked and his eyes bulged. Sherlock was almost sobbing, "Let go."
John let gave his control over and his muscles buckled. His body shivered and he felt the beginnings of a seizure. The room spun around and John sank to his knees. John gave one more gasping breathe. Sherlock kissed the top of his head, it was hard and it hurt.
"I love you."
Then the world turned black.