AN:THIS IS IT! Oh my God we're almost done. Like two more shorties. But this is it! I'm so glad to those who stuck with it, hope this doesn't disappoint! Happy Reading! Review pleaseeeeee?~
When I'm Gone
Chapter 29
"It's New Year's Eve, Sherlock! Get up!" John shouted at him, rolling him over until Sherlock swatted John's hands away from him.
"What time is it?" he asked. It felt like he'd only been asleep for an hour.
"It's almost eight."
"Eight in the morning? And you woke me up?"
"No, eight at night. And I woke you up to eat dinner." John stated, hoisting Sherlock up.
Sherlock grumbled. Ever since the wedding, he had been extremely tired and didn't stay fully awake like before. The stress and the nerves started hacking away at his mind, and he had found his limits. He had eaten, and talked with John, and gone out and walked. And he liked his boring lifestyle, no matter how repetitive it had been. He liked spending it with John, who filled in the dynamics when Sherlock wasn't all there.
"Sherlock?" John yelled from the kitchen.
"How long have I slept?"
"Eighteen hours. New record." John shouted back as Sherlock put on a shirt and slacks.
"No party?"
"Why the hell would I have a party with you dressed like that? Look at your hair!"
"Such a girl sometimes." Sherlock shoved John playfully.
"Eat. I made chicken." he said, proud of his creation of orange chicken. He didn't bother going to get take away, not when he had all the ingredients. Besides, that would mean leaving Sherlock, and Sherlock got extremely worried when John never told him he was going out.
"Thank you. Eighteen hours? Should have woken me up sooner."
"I was going to, but you seemed to be in a deep dream, from the sound of it."
"Oh." Sherlock blushed. He couldn't remember what his dream was about, but he hadn't meant to be that vocal about it. "How bad?"
"Nothing worth noting upon." John said, shrugging his shoulders. "How many have you been having?" he asked, referring to the nightmares Sherlock had told John about a few days earlier.
"None like they used to be. They've settled down." he replied in turn to John's question.
"Do you want to talk about any of them?"
"I honestly can't remember them when I wake up, that's how I know they're not as bad."
"You could remember the ones from before?"
"I still remember the ones from before." Sherlock concluded.
They ate and talked about more trivial things, such as what they were doing for the new year and what they planned on doing within the next week, yearly resolutions.
"I think I'm going to try to stay away from sociopaths. And tall buildings." he joked around.
"I think I'm going to find a job, make some money, try not to stay around the flat all the time." he said, looking to gauge for Sherlock's reaction. He frowned at John, but motioned for him to continue. "Erm...Lestrade..."
"What did he want?" Sherlock pressed.
"He wanted to get me a job as...a professional blogger. Write up the cases, maybe report them to put in the paper."
"Oh?"
"And of course you could come along. And deduce the cases. Just not paid." he wondered how Sherlock would take the news.
"Okay. Sound's fine."
"You'd be okay with not being paid?"
"I was never before."
"Okay, I'll tell Lestrade I accept his offer."
"Wait."
"What?"
"Will Mycroft be watching over us?"
"No, he said Mycroft was a temporary replacement for you during our break, after the new year they would try to get you a kick start on cases."
"Good. Take the offer. Get's us both out of the house. Wonder how Anderson will take to me being there? Especially since I don't plan on telling him anything."
"You're just going to show up? Play surprise?"
"Yes."
"Sherlock..." John shook his head, letting Sherlock win this time. Anderson, poor Anderson, one of who was to take the blunt end and suffer through what Sherlock put him through, the insults, even after death, not even making the cut of who to tell. He saw Sherlock shrug in response, and take another piece of chicken. "I bought champagne for the occasion." John said, changing the topic.
"Oh?"
"Well, I didn't buy it, but your brother gave it to me while you were sleeping, brought it over so we could have something to toast at midnight."
"Thoughtful." he remarked plainly.
"Bit tired still then?"
"Still there, still waking up, yes." he said. He always got this way, so annoyed when he was woken unexpectedly. But John did have a fair reason, eighteen hours was a bit much. 'So about this job...' he wanted to ask John. He wanted to ask why Lestrade didn't bother telling him this, especially while he was there five days ago. He figured it was something Mycroft had said, not to tell Sherlock until John knew the plan first, the one who would act more rationally. He didn't find that fair. He was rational. He was logical. Well, actually, he was all over the place, especially now. "When are we starting the cases?" Sherlock instead decided to ask.
"Two days." he answered.
"Why not tomorrow?" Sherlock huffed.
"Break." they said together.
They cleared the dishes and sat down, waiting until about ten o'clock to celebrate the upcoming new year. John sat down with his laptop and began typing away, not on the blog though, as Sherlock could tell from the screen when he looked over. He sat down with a cup of tea.
"What are you writing?" he asked, curious to know what John would think of next.
"I'm starting on the second part."
"Second part? Of what?"
"The biography. There's no way that I'm done yet, too many new cases, too many events to write."
"Don't you put them on the blog?"
"I write facts on the blog. This, I can expand, add, embellish. I can do a lot more to this than I can on the blog."
"Hm." Sherlock went to the couch and flipped on the television, going to the local London newscast for the countdown for New Year's Eve. There was always some sort of concert, something that could distract his mind for a second as John wrote, not really in the mood to talk.
Sure enough, there was an orchestra there playing some fairly nice music, not like the mainstream auto-tune they played on the radios. The music played on and on, and at around nine when they were doing their last piece, Sherlock came up with an idea.
He got up and walked over to John, closing his laptop. He took it away and placed it on the ground.
"Sherlock what are you-"
"Listen, John." he led John into the middle of the floor.
"Sherlock, I can't dance." he tried to push away, not sure where Sherlock was going. He wasn't about to be embarrassed in front of Sherlock, as he surely would hold it against him.
"Shh." Sherlock hushed him, clasping him tighter, leading him around the room to the waltz the orchestra played.
The song ended after about five minutes, but each had grown accustomed to the moves and they continued dancing for at least another hour, just to the music that was playing in their minds. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock and Sherlock around John, both trying to get closer to each other. He put his head on Sherlock's chest, hearing the smooth, slow heartbeat that was the opposite of how John felt. The pair continued swaying, the final song stuck in their heads. The time passed and it became ten thirty, eleven, and eleven thirty. They had no recognition of time anymore, as they were lost in each other. The warmth they both felt was incomparable, willingly trapped in each other's arms, the final few notes still buzzing around in their minds, the sound of their breathing the only thing they were really keeping track of.
They heard the countdown begin from a minute to zero, and just as they counted down, Sherlock lifted John's chin.
"Happy New Year, John Hamish Watson." he whispered in his ear.
"Happy New Year, Sherlock." echoed John as they pressed their lips together, the kiss sinking into their souls, not just a par of lips touching anymore, but a connection, a firm synapse of their minds, something Sherlock could relate to, expanding his mind, even his heart.
They stood after a minute, parting slightly but keeping their arms tight around each other.
"Let this be the start of a new year. A better year. An extraordinary year." exclaimed Sherlock, and John smiled at him, this man, in a way that made Sherlock feel at home, made him feel like he was never going to leave anywhere ever again. "Just the two of us against the rest of the world." Sherlock said, taking up his violin and playing an old English song, solidifying his promise to John.
AN: Okay, so how did you like that? Happy ending! Yay! So, first, I am so thankful for the support I've gotten through the story, it means so much considering it was my first one. Second, the crossover seems to be having a bit of trouble saving, so I'm going to have to call a short hiatus on that one until I can get the problem fixed. Third, I should be having an OC Divergent/Hunger Games crossover soon, time allowing; it is summer after all XD! Yeah I know "How can you possibly mix Hunger Games and Divergent?" Well, simply, actually. I write it! So when I get that one uploaded, can you promise to check it out? Okay? Okay:) So thanks once more for those who read, I hope you loved it. A couple more little things coming after this chapter but this was the big finish:) Hope you loved it as much as I did!~
