Thank you soooooo much everyone! very sorry for the length of the chapters but if I try to deliberately write longer ones it may mar the spontaneity!
John didn't know what to think.
He could take what Sherlock said for granted or he could take it as inevitable that he would be coming back to an empty flat.
The second thought made his stomach turn.
John couldn't stop fretting and fidgeting all day at work.
"Why do you keep forgetting things John?" Asked Sherlock hugging him from behind as he made tea that morning, already tensed.
Sherlock rubbed his chest soothingly and pressed his lips to John's nape making him relax a bit.
"What did I forget?" John had asked in a small voice.
"That I have promised you I'll be here when you come back."
He turned around and took Sherlock in his arms and looked into those misty grey eyes imploringly.
"You will keep your promise?"
Sherlock pressed his forehead to John's, smiling lovingly.
"I promise." He whispered.
After several long kisses and many hugs John had stepped out of the flat forlornly. He kept looking back at the door until he saw Sherlock standing at the window pressing his palms to the glass and pouting. John smiled reassuringly at the child he was leaving behind. The child blew warm breath on the glass making it foggy and wrote with fingers.
Back soon.
John had great difficulty controlling the urge to run back and hold him in a never ending embrace. His feet felt heavier with each step away from Sherlock, away from home, away from their household.
Please god let him be there when I return.
John wanted to hurry back as soon as work was over but he needed to buy things.
John found shopping for Sherlock was extremely difficult. What do you buy for a man like that? What would he like to wear? John never spared much thought or money on his own clothing but this was Sherlock! He was special.
Anyone else would have thought that any kind of cloths would be enough for a man from the streets who had hardly worn a piece of clothing in years which was neither well-worn nor torn. But John couldn't dream of thinking like that. He had pictured the man in suits since the night they first met! Sherlock was a prince and he needed to dress like one. John paid much attention to buying suitable things for Sherlock. He bought every single piece with much care, he felt every single fabric, made sure they would be comfortable, they would keep Sherlock warm and that all the other things were useful for Sherlock.
All the time a worm kept wriggling in his mind.
What if he's not there when you return?
Mrs Hudson is there. She's keeping an eye on him.
Do you really think she could help if he decided to escape?
He won't. He promised.
When John finally got out of the taxi and paid the driver his heart was doing a kind of gymnastic. It dipped to the stomach once and then returned to its proper place.
John's hands trembled as he tried to put the key in the hole.
Once in he put everything on the landing across the door and ran upstairs. He felt his heart would give away any second now. With immense restraint he turned the knob.
This is it! He's gone.
"What took you so long?" An extremely petulant baritone called from the sofa accompanying the vision of a very pouty, very bored looking Sherlock curled up on it.
A wave went through John. He felt like he had been swimming in the sea for a very long time and had just resurfaced. He was overwhelmed. He felt he would cry. But he could do nothing except running toward the man and wrap his curled body in his and kiss and kiss and kiss again.
After making sure that the pout was completely gone and retrieving the many bags from down stairs John was greeted with a sheepish grin form the man he loved.
"I made you tea."
For this the man got washed over in kisses again.