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The week went on blissfully with John waking up to Sherlock every morning, Sherlock clinging to John until he went out. John looking back at the window as soon as he stepped out to find Sherlock standing there. Evenings were spent in John cooking and Sherlock making it impossible by throwing all sorts of tantrums. Nights were spent in warm embraces and long kisses in anticipation of something more to happen soon.
On the third week the bliss began to fall apart.
"Harry, I'm fine. No I'm better now. No. No news. Yeah just a bit caught up in work. I'll visit you as soon as I can. Okay? Yeah. You too take care. Give Clara my love. "
John put the phone down on his office desk and leant back on the chair with a huff. This was the third enquiry this week. He had bumped into Mike the other day and he had asked him to join him for a drink which he had to decline. The man wanted to come up to his house which he also had to politely decline. Marry had called. And now Harry. They were all concerned about him after his one year depressed stunt. He appreciated and cherished their concern but couldn't let it shatter the temporary bliss he was sharing with the man he loved. Their concern seemed like probing and he wanted to avoid it at all costs. He knew these were the people whom he'll have to fall back on when Sherlock disappears again and yet all he wanted was to keep these people from probing. Cut off all ties as long as Sherlock was there.
He couldn't tell how long it would be until someone actually came up to check on him. What would he do then? Most importantly what would Sherlock do?
John's life was a fair mess. Every time he held Sherlock he used to fear it would be the last and now adding to it was the growing concern of his family and friends.
Sherlock opened the door with his now a day's usual glee in his eyes and a petulant pout. John on the other hand was not his usual self and just smiled tiredly at him.
Putting away the coat John entered the kitchen and put the kettle on. Sherlock followed but maintained a distance watching him closely.
"Harry called." John said succinctly.
"Did you tell her about me?"
"No."
John turned to look at him.
"She's worried about me." He said searching for answers in Sherlock's eyes.
They were cold. Calculating. Devoid of emotions.
"That's what families do." He said curtly.
"Do you have any?" John asked out of the blue and startled himself.
"Someday." The baritone said wistfully looking deeply into John's eyes.
John's heart constricted as he stopped himself from being wishful of something unattainable.
"What if she comes to visit me?" He asked in a small voice looking away.
"Then I'll have to leave."
John gulped. He was afraid of this exactly.
"Would someone visit you?"
"Who would?" Sherlock asked softly.
"Any friend or colleague…Billy?" John asked frowning. Did he actually want any of them in his house? Not exactly but it felt so bad to think Sherlock didn't have anyone. Anyone except him.
"He's dead."
John slightly jumped at the words and a shiver ran down his spine. Sherlock on the other hand maintained a stoic face.
"I'm sorry to hear that. Was he your…?" what?
"What do you think he was?" Sherlock asked and a bit of amusement gleamed in his eyes.
"A colleague? Assistant? Sniper? Helped you with…with your…work?"
"I'm not just a killer John." The baritone said deeply measuring John's perplexity.
Another statement that left John clueless.
"My job doesn't only entitle killing people. It is an aspect though. The most haunting aspect."
Sherlock looked away, deep in thoughts.
"What are you?" John whispered.
"I can't tell you. Not now."
John slouched leaning on the kitchen counter resignedly.
"Of course you can't." because it is only me who can trust you, not vice versa.
Sherlock came closer and put his hands on John's shoulders trying to ease the tension and to reassure him.
"John, just don't blame yourself thinking that you're in love with a mass murderer or some kind of an assassin. And believe me, some of the people I've killed actually deserved it. " Sherlock said with a faint smile.
John didn't know what exactly Sherlock expected him to feel to that information. Relieved? Contended? Somewhat relaxed?
"Good to know." John said incredulously.
Sherlock dropped his hands. The amusement left every corner of his face.
"Are you having second thoughts?" he asked gravely.
John looked at him. Steadied himself.
"No. Not at all."
Sherlock gave him a thankful look.