Utter Abandon
Sometimes they give in.
It can be almost anywhere, anytime, but always it's after what John thinks of as a redemption.
The absolution is never their own, it's always an innocent they've helped bring back from the brink—a kidnapped child, a tortured man, a battered woman.
It's these kinds of cases they both feel most keenly, the ones that come with such clear salvation, and afterward they're left with a rare moment, maybe two, where they stop, look at each other, and for long sweet seconds they see in one another everything. All of it. Each perfection.
I will fight for you…
I will die for you…
And for all our lives together I will love you…
And that's when their nerves jolt electric and their hearts trip much too fast and they just damn well give in.
It doesn't matter where they are or who's watching or what's being said, they reach for each other and they sink, submerge, fall so deep into a kiss that honest-to-god everything vanishes.
There's no police constable awaiting the rest of their statement. No cabbie asking where to. There's no one and nothing but this, just this, just them.
And the never-fading realization that they saved each other, that however long they have together it'll be enough, and every moment they can feel this—the joy of the saving, of knowing they've been saved—well damn it they best relish each one.
And so sometimes John and Sherlock give in, and they hold one another, and the world falls away, but people watch, they always do, and like a stone tossed into still water, John and Sherlock ripple, their passion spreads wide, bringing to everyone it touches their own small bit of sweet redemption.
I love the look of utter abandon a SH2JW gave to John and Sherlock in her artwork (Google: sh2jw and 26485044098). They're a million miles away from everything and the eye of their own perfect storm.