John took another sip of his coffee as he waited at the edge of the sofa seat in Victor's living room.

He'd just told Victor about Sherlock going to meet David. He'd just told him about raising his hand on Sherlock. God knows what the protocol is between a Dom and his Sub, but I do know that raising your hand on your Dom cannot be right. I've seen and read about Subs being caned for far minor infractions.

He waited and watched as Victor stared at the carpet, a frown on his usually amiable face. Say something, for fuck's sake…..I still haven't told you about Julia and you're already speechless….

Finally, Victor looked up, a hint of disbelief in his eyes.

"You raised your hand at your Dom? At Sherlock?" He shook his head. "That's … not a thing that is done, John." He took a deep breath and was silent for a bit longer. Finally he smiled encouragingly and patted John's knee as he rose, "Anyway what's done is done. Some more coffee?"

At John's nod, he got up to fetch a fresh batch. John followed him into the kitchen.

Victor chuckled suddenly, "Look, I can understand why you are upset. I had told you I behaved like a complete jackass about David too? And if it makes you feel any better, Sherlock was the same with me. He wouldn't tell me anything. I begged, I cajoled, I yelled, I threw tantrums…..bloody hell, John, I even cried. He wouldn't talk. Kept saying it had nothing to do with what we had. And that as a rule, he never liked to talk about any Sub to anyone else…..that it was an intensely personal relationship and none of my business."

He stirred in some milk in the fresh batch.

"So one day, I took it upon myself to confront this David person"

John looked startled.

"Yeah, I really was as bad as that..…" He gestured with his hand, "Look, let's take a walk outside."

They stepped out of the large French windows into the huge back yard. They ambled slowly, coffee cups in hand, as John waited for Victor to continue.

"He was stunning…..really, John. I mean there is good looking and then there was David….. Waif-like body, the face of an angel and eyes…..God, John, breath-taking eyes that could haunt anyone forever…..barely in his early twenties…." He shrugged his shoulders, "I just landed on his door step asking for… You know what? I can't even remember what nonsense I said to him now. Babbled something about Sherlock being my Dom, and keep your hands off him….the look that he gave me, I'll never forget it as long as I live. So much hurt, pain….."

Victor broke off, lost in thought.

After a while, John asked, "What happened then?"

"He was so disquieted at my distress," Victor said with wonder in his voice. "So upset that I could think anything negative about Sherlock."

John hung on to every word even as his legs walked on autopilot.

Victor shook his head as he continued haltingly, "So he told me about himself. Said he did not want anyone to ever misjudge Sherlock…. Long story short, he used to be a street-kid who got in with the wrong people. Someone called Tobias started pimping his arse… With a face and body like that he was like a bonanza, too precious to be sold to the johns outright. So at first he was mainly used in clubs as stimulating viewing entertainment, and for occasional and very expensive use only. But one night there was a foreign group, stinking rich…..very hard-core, into young boys and pain and rape role-play….that sort of thing….there were other boys too. One of the boys died that night, his body was dumped somewhere. Sherlock got on the case….one thing led to another and he found David."

John listened in horror, his eyes wide as he struggled to absorb what Victor was saying. They stood in the middle of the backyard, holding their cups in hand.

Victor pulled up a couple of deckchairs, giving John time to digest what he'd said. When he resumed, his voice was soft, "Sherlock got him out of there. And went after Tobias with a vengeance. He sent him to prison for a very, very long time. And David…God, John… that young gutsy man actually stripped to show me the scars on his body from the torture he had endured. And it turned out he was so badly scarred in his rectum that at one stage they considered a permanent colostomy."

John's gasp was loud, "Fucking hell…" He fell into one of the chairs, a stunned look on his face.

Victor snorted as he sat down as well, "Yeah…..I know." He sighed deeply, "So you see, John, your fears are unfounded. Sherlock has never even touched David in a sexual way. He worked with him tirelessly for months- all that depression, fear, post-traumatic stress…..I had told you he would make a brilliant psychologist…..Then David met Adrian, another of Sherlock's Subs. God only knows what his story is…. And they decided to have a go at a relationship. Sherlock kept working with both of them…I really couldn't ask David much more."

Victor rubbed his face with a long shuddering exhale. "John, he just…. stood there….telling me such an intimate story for no other reason than I had maligned Sherlock….." His voice fell into a whisper, "Such a deep and true submission….. I felt like a freaking imposter in his presence. I almost ran out of there."

John buried his face in his hands and repeated, "Fucking hell…."

Victor shook his head ruefully, "Yeah…..not my proudest moment."

All was quiet for a while as the two sat there, lost in thought.

Finally, Victor leaned forward, his voice reassuring, cheerful, "Hey! Look on the bright side. You are not alone! And Sherlock doesn't expect much from us at the start anyways. He expects us to behave like idiots and just keeps patiently steering in the direction he wants. In fact the only time I've ever really seen him furious is when I insulted David." He gave a sheepish smile, "At the height of my insane jealously, I ended up asking him one day whether he went to David because he sucked cock better than I did or was his arsehole tighter than mine…..and not in such a polite way either."

He stared into the distance, lost in the past, a grimace on his face.

"He went absolutely feral…..it was quite something." He held his thumb and index finger a couple of inches apart. "Came this close to hitting me…Yeah….Told me to never insult any other Sub in his presence ever again. He will NOT tolerate it. Ever…..You know that voice he has? That Master's tone that snaps everything inside of you, tightens you up as though he was holding an actual whip…..yeah, that voice…..Sherlock will tolerate a lot of things, but disparaging either his Sub or the act of Submission is off limits…. It's as though it is sacred to him somehow….." He shrugged his shoulder. "As I said, not my proudest moment….So cheer up! We've all done shit."

John stared blankly at a nearby tree, his mind in turmoil, his eyes darting around as he tried to retrieve data from his memory bank.

Would you like me to grovel, lick your shoes perhaps? Or maybe suck your cock? Or would you like me to strip and present my arse to you like Victor, huh?"

You will never belittle the magnificent symbolism of the act of Submission in my presence again. IS. THAT. UNDERSTOOD?

And that we are? Your whores? That you can get us to bend over at will and dip your bloody huge cock into any one of us whenever the whim overtakes you?

His head hung low as he grappled with what he'd just heard. The jagged ache in his gut was as though tearing him from inside out. I DID insult his Subs. Victor. Called us all whores. No wonder he lost his temper…..almost called him a sex-starved maniac who runs around fucking his Subs….made a mockery of the act of kneeling…and …..He was going to help David….why didn't he just tell me…..but…..shouldn't I have known, trusted…..he had said he would tell me if he was going to be intimate with anyone…..I imagined all sorts of things…..yelled at him, shoved him…..and fuck it all, fucked Julia…..how can I ever make this right….…..

Victor patted John's knee as he arose. "Don't worry, you'll get over it." His tone was matter of fact, "I'm famished. Would you like a sandwich?"

John gestured with one hand to stop him. "Wait….. just.. can you give me a minute?"

Victor settled back down on the chair, puzzled. He observed John's face as he stared into the distance. I know exactly what you are feeling…..it may be years ago, but I felt the same…..shame, guilt, horror, self-recrimination. He stayed quiet though, giving John time.

It was a while before John looked at him.

"Yeah…well, that's not all." John took a deep breath and continued in a miserable small voice, "I was so upset with him…..while he was in Edinburgh…." He broke off, unable to bear looking at Victor's face. Staring at the tree again, he said in a quiet voice, "I actually slept with someone. She is a doctor at my surgery."

John's gaze flicked to Victor to see how he had reacted.

Victor's lips were pursed, "Um-hmm…..okay. What did Sherlock say?" he asked.

John took a deep shuddering breath as he admitted, "I haven't told him."

"What! Why?" Victor frowned.

John shrugged, "I…..don't know…just."

Victor shook his head, "I don't understand. John, you must tell him. I told you, don't lie to him."

John nodded, "Yeah…." Another deep breath, "I know I should….. I just…." He turned to Victor and blurted out abruptly, "Victor, have you ever….. you know, slept with anyone else since you've known him or cheated on him?" Tell me please, how will he react…..I need to know…..

Victor stared at John for a while before dragging his eyes away, staring into the distance.

"Look…..I'm not asking out of some morbid curiosity. I just need to know…what will he…." John broke off as he looked at Victor, his eyes pleading. "Please…."

Victor sighed and bowed his head down as he thought.

Still staring away, a haunted look crossed his face. He said at last, quietly, "About one year after he became my Dom… I asked him if I could have sex, experience role-plays with another Dom…someone else….I had become more confident in my role as a Submissive. I had some friends who told me about these…..clubs."

He turned to face John, his words slow, halting, as though dredging up a memory he'd rather forget. But he bravely soldiered on, "I wanted to experience … more. I thought I might be missing out on things….being just with Sherlock. So….. I mean…. it sounds so amazing now, but I actually went to Sherlock and demanded he take me to a club or give me permission to seek some variety."

John's eyes were bulging as he stared unblinkingly at Victor.

"I don't know if you've ever been to a BDSM club, John? Sherlock took me to the best one in London. Bloody hell…. It was like a shrine dedicated to hedonism." He shook his head. "It was quite something. Huge, ornate, flashy…..full of patrons. I'd never seen so many Dominants and Submissives in one place….all the toys you could imagine….Hooks hanging from the ceilings, crosses to tie down the slaves on, whips and paddles and floggers….masks and blindfolds…..Doms trolled for other Subs, fucking them after discussions with the Sub's own Doms. Subs submitted to different Doms. Different areas, rooms, floors for different activities. Dazzling lights, loud noise. Cries of pain, sobbing, begging. Sounds of orgasms and threats…Naked bodies…all manner of sexual activities going on without restraint. Some in plain sight so that others could join in, some behind closed doors."

John sat gaping as he listened, and tried to imagine.

"They hated Sherlock. Parted like a sea when he walked in, their faces sneering… He wasn't one of them….. the Dom who'd chosen to buck the trend….. who flouted their rules, refused to negotiate and draw up contracts. People don't accept that, you know? They and their kind feel threatened….There is a convention that needs to be adhered to… But the club owner knew Sherlock. He came with two other older, experienced Doms. They greeted us. Took us to a private room…"

Victor broke off, his hands gripping the seat as his jaw clenched, an abject look of torment on his face. John kept quiet, desperate to hear what happened and at the same time fearful of hearing it. At some level he felt like he was reliving it with Victor, seeing it in front of his eyes.

"He sat there the whole time and let me do what I wanted….and when things got overwhelming and I beckoned…he came and sat close to me. Facing me, looking at me, one hand holding mine while running his long fingers through my hair with the other….. So calm, so gentle." He shook his head as though trying to break the memory free, his voice choked with emotion. "His eyes, fuck, John…..all I remember from that night are his eyes. They were blue in that light, calm as a lagoon. Accepting of everything I wanted, everything I did…..Rest all is a blank…. At some stage I pushed whoever the fuck it was away and asked Sherlock to take me home… Do you know what he said to me on the way home? He said-Victor, I am so pleased you came to me. Whenever you feel the need for something else, something more, come to me. I will get it for you. That way I can make sure that you are safe….."

Tears fell out of Victor's eyes as he sat quietly for a while, biting his lips. John sat in stunned silence, searching for something, anything to say.

Finally, Victor looked up and smiled weakly, "Sorry….I...I think I'll get a glass of water. You want some?"

John shook his head and waited for a while to allow Victor some chance to compose himself. And then followed him into the kitchen.

Victor stood by the sink, looking outside the window, a forgotten glass of water in his hand. John stood quietly, leaning against a cabinet.

Victor spoke as though continuing aloud a thought in his head.

"He loves you so much. Perhaps you don't know…..The day you got married, that night he came here. He stayed here for five days. Did not talk to me. Did not touch me…..just lost in thought. Then he took off." He turned towards John. "As long as I live, I never want to see that look on Sherlock's face, John."

John nodded sadly. There was nothing to say.

"Why, John?" Victor asked softly. "Why have you not told him yet?"

John's face crumpled.

"Because I'm scared. Of what he will say. How he will react. That he will ask me to leave," John finally admitted.

"You fear the one place where you are guaranteed sanctuary," Victor murmured as he looked at John intently.

John looked up frowning.

Putting the glass down, Victor came closer, his voice hard, sharp, "You haven't come to me just to unburden yourself, but for advice. Then listen carefully, John. Your thinking is all upside down. Please try to understand. Sherlock does not view a Dom-Sub relationship like everyone else. It is sacred to him. He is not in it for his satisfaction, sexual or otherwise. Don't you see? It is not about going down on your knees and sucking his cock, it is not about presenting your arse for him to fuck, it is not about pain or humiliation, it is not about your kinks. If you need it, he will give you all of those things as well. But it is not about any of those things to him."

John's brow furrowed in thought, even as his heart realised the truth in Victor's words.

Victor waved his hands emphatically.

"Please try and understand. In order to see it the right way up, a subtlety of intellect is required. It's almost as though you have to develop an inner vision to share his vision." He came closer and gently tapped John's head with a finger. "In there, inside your head…..you have to be mentally prostrated in there to understand. And yes, you went to him and knelt down weeks ago. And yes, you accepted the fact that you belong to him. But John, that is just one in a series of steps, it is a process. You began submitting to him long before you knelt. And you need to keep on learning and let that state of submission deepen. Let your faith in him materialise into knowledge, unshakeable knowledge. You can't move backwards….I told you it is like free fall."

His face hardened as he pinned John with his stare, "But in your case it is almost as if…after jumping you are still craving the safety of solid ground under your feet, grasping desperately at any overhanging rock or bent tree branch to save yourself. That is not submission."

John's cry seemed to come from his soul, "I am submitted."

Victor gave a short laugh.

"Are you? Then WHY are you here? The best dom I have ever seen is waiting for you at home, available to you. And yet here you are. Asking me for advice. Why are you seeking for help and support elsewhere? Why are you still grasping, instead of letting go? John, GO. TO. HIM. Fall to his feet and know in your heart that only what is good for you will happen."

John looked at him and nodded. Go to him...Go to him…tell him….what more can I do? I cannot live with this guilt, this pain anymore…..He stiffened his spine and gave a brief nod.

"I will."

John stopped short as he entered the front door of 221B.

Sherlock sat on his chair, working on the laptop. His gaze flicked up as John entered, eyes scanning and then narrowing. Face expressionless, he closed the laptop and set it aside. Legs crossed, arms on the arm rests he waited patiently; all the incredible focus of that exceptional mind trained on John as he approached.

John neared with eyes that were clouded over with remorse, with apprehension. Sherlock continued to watch him in silence as John sank down to his knees, his arse coming to rest on his heels.

John sat quietly, head bowed, eyes darting around as he searched for the right words to say and came up blank.

Sherlock was quiet. Waiting. Observing.

It was a while before John swallowed nervously. He threw his shoulders back, face resolute as he looked up at Sherlock's calm face.

"Sherlock, I've…." he started and then broke off. He took a deep breath before continuing, "Sherlock, there is something I need to tell you."

Sherlock inclined his head slightly.

He's not scanning with his eyes, he's not deducing…what is he thinking?

John took another deep breath, "The night you came back from Edinburgh, I was…..there was a staff party to celebrate the award the clinic will be getting. That night, before I came home, I slept with Julia." His eyes desperately searched for some reaction from Sherlock…..get it over with, you idiot…."I am sorry that I did not tell you straightaway…..I know I should have, but…." His voice trailed off.

Unable to stand Sherlock's calm gaze any longer, John's eyes moved to the floor once again as he winced inwardly waiting for Sherlock's response. Say something, he prayed…..please, Sherlock….I cannot stand this anymore….

Finally, unable to bear the silence he looked up again. Sherlock's eyes were like twin spotlights focused on John as though seeing inside his soul, his expression still inscrutable. He looked like he was waiting for something as he sat with his hands steepled under his chin, that familiar pose somehow both apropos and comforting.

John stared at him mutely for a while and then continued haltingly, "I mean…..I know you said it was alright for us to have sex with other people, as long as I told you about it….but I didn't….I mean, how can anyone be okay with that sort of thing…." He bit his lip, and shook his head, "Sherlock…. I can't sleep, I can't eat. I feel like I'm dying inside…." His lips trembled, "I…. the guilt is killing me….after everything you've done, after submitting to you…..I….I raised my hand at you….. I went behind your back… I wanted to tell you...but I couldn't…. I was scared…I am afraid…." He fell quiet.

What more can I say….I have confessed, now it is up to him. To punish me or throw me out…..what's done is done….at least I won't be carrying the burden of this sordid secret anymore.

Several moments ticked by in absolute silence.

"Why?"

Such had been the silence that had preceded it that the one word boomed in the empty apartment, even though the voice was soft, gentle.

John frowned. "Why?" he repeated mechanically, his eyes darting all around. "Because…..well I thought you would be angry…or jealous….."

Sherlock tilted his head as his eyes looked at John with the gaze of a curious child, "You want me to be possessive, jealous? Why?" His brow furrowed even as he shook his head, "John, jealousy springs from immaturity and insecurity. I haven't been immature since I was five years old. As for insecurity…..why would I feel insecure? You could sleep with all the consenting men and women in all of Britain and it still wouldn't change the fundamental truth that you are mine. Your inner core belongs to me. That you love me. Actions propelled by momentary lust, anger and hormones do not negate this truth. Why should I feel insecure? Why should I be angry?"

John looked at him, marvelling at the self-assuredness, the confidence. There was a time before Sherlock had jumped that John had found this same behaviour cocky, arrogant. Now though it just served to highlight the contrast with his own low self-esteem. How can anyone be so composed on the face of what I did…Suddenly, fiercely he NEEDED for Sherlock to be rattled….to rage and swear and yell at the top of his lungs…

He cried out, "Did you even hear me? I had sex with someone….behind your back. It is okay…it is normal to get angry, to react. Don't you even care?..." His nostrils flared with anger as he stared at Sherlock's calm face, "But you know what? It's easy for you. You have confidence in yourself, in who you are, in who I am to you. I don't. Sherlock, you don't understand….what it is like in my head." His voice became more emphatic, "You couldn't possibly understand what it feels like…..you hate sentiment, always think of it as a weakness….how could you know?"

A flash of pain crossed his face as Sherlock repeated, "I don't understand? You really believe that I don't know what it is like inside your head, what you are thinking…..Oh John!" He sighed.

Sherlock broke his gaze and stared into the distance, his expression thoughtful, his jaw clenched. John looked on with desolate eyes. How can he know? Look at him…..everything is so cut and dried…can you be normal for once, Sherlock…I need you to feel, to react….not the Mr Spock act….the normal human reactions….…

The minutes ticked by.

Finally, Sherlock looked back with unblinking intent eyes, "John, you feel insecure for three reasons. One, you fear and you have always feared that I might leave you. Two, you do not believe that I do in actual fact love you, even though by word and deed I have done nothing but demonstrate that. You cannot reconcile the fact that I love you with the fact that I can love anyone else. Because you equate love with exclusivity. You would prefer for me to be 'in-love', what you qualify as romantic love, and with you and only you. The way society portrays it. Love without the caveat of monogamy and supremacy over others is inferior to romantic love, in your view. Three, you cannot fathom why I should love you as your self-esteem, your sense of self-worth is so low that you have come to believe that you are not worthy of love. You believe I should be angry, jealous, possessive in view of what has recently transpired and that my failure to do so further reaffirms that I do not in fact love you."

The stare that fixed John in place was piercing, "HAVE. I. MISSED. ANYTHING?"

John shook his head, his voice quiet, "No."

"Would you like to add anything else?"

Another shake of the head, "No."

Sherlock's lips had thinned as he closed his eyes and pressed them together. After a while opening his eyes, he looked directly at John.

"John….. I am not angry. I am not upset about you sleeping with someone else. It is not and it has never been a big deal to me. Sex is a physical activity that we perform with the body for momentary pleasure. More important than actions are the motivations, the attitudes behind the actions. And I am far more concerned about the anger, the doubt that propelled you."

He leaned forward as he explained, "You felt abandoned, unloved…..you panicked and were fearful of your place in my life…..you got angry…..you had sex with someone else to prove to yourself that you are still desirable, to prop up your self-esteem…..and for the past week you have been berating yourself, beating yourself up with guilt…"

He raised one finger and moved it in a circle as he continued, "Desire, insecurity, fear, anger, doubt, guilt, worthlessness…." He traced another circle in the air, "Desire, insecurity, fear, anger, doubt, guilt, worthlessness…The cycle goes on and on and on….The mind jumps from one emotion to the next and drags you along with it….and you follow, seemingly impotent….little realising that there is no end-point in that sort of thinking, it is an infinite loop."

He broke the circle he was tracing and sliced his hand in the air with emphasis, "There is nothing new under the sun. This whole damned thing goes on and on. Don't you see?"

Sherlock broke off and looked at John's face, eager for comprehension, questioning. But John looked back, slumped as he accepted the truth of Sherlock's words even as his eyes looked defeated, as though unable to translate those words into any meaningful change in thinking. Yes, Sherlock everything you say is right….but what can I do about it? That is the way my mind works.

Sherlock looked thoughtfully into the distance, his gaze drifting. How do I explain…..which other way do I have to explain…if he understood, I could discuss, debate the finer points…. I could make him SEE. But he is so entrenched inside his mind, his ill-conceived convictions, his biases….how do I pull him out?

He turned back to John and said softly, "Come here."

John shuffled forwards to come and sit in between Sherlock's spread legs, looking up into his Dom's eyes.

Sherlock lifted John's chin with his fingers, "John….my love. Please understand. Every single one of your fears is unfounded. I am not going to leave. Ever. No matter what happens, I will still be here. And you know this in your heart. You are just allowing your thoughts, your cloudy emotions to get in the way of clear thinking."

He brushed back John's hair, "I love you. Yes, I love my other Subs. I am responsible for them too. But, John, love is not a finite resource. It expands to the same extent as your vision. Don't confuse love for the so called state of being in-love. One expands, the other constricts."

Soft lips kissed John's forehead, his temple, his nose, his lips, "As for you not being worthy. John, think! Why would I be here, if you weren't worthy? How can you know that I love you and still consider yourself unworthy? You know me, do you think I would do anything I didn't want to? Do you think I would be here if I did not in fact love you and considered you more than worthy of my love, my time? THINK….."

Sweet soft lips kissed John's parched ones. A sudden influx of tears misted John's eyes as he looked up at his Dom, as he felt those arms around him again. I need to feel it, Sherlock. While I am in your arms, I do feel it. But the moment anything happens, I start to doubt again. When does this end?

Sherlock's voice was a desperate plea. Please understand, John…..believe what I say.

"Do you really think this is what Sumission is meant to bring? Loss of clarity and a wavering mind? Do you really think this is what I want for you? To make you dependent on me? To seek my presence, my approval, my love, my attention? John, veneration is conformity. And…that is NOT what I want for you…...I want you to fly, to soar, to be complete in yourself. More than anything, my love, I want you to rise above any need for me. Do you see?"

I see….but I don't know how to do it…..Victor said it is like free fall….and he is right…..I don't trust you enough to let go….we are back where we started…. And I don't think I can handle this guilt, these doubts…..

Sherlock continued, his gaze intent on John's face, his eyes searching …..

"John, the objective truth is like a brilliant light; the endless fog of emotions, of confusion and delusion obscure it, distorts it beyond recognition. Push aside this useless sentiment. The mind is like a key in a lock….you turn it one way, it will open the doors to the dazzling intellect, the truth that is in you. You turn it the other way and you will lock yourself in, forever trying to swim against the endless tides of emotions, destined to wander into the bye-lanes of fruitless and ultimately finite sentiment, living your entire life with flawed perception, dependent and wanting."

He grabbed John's shoulders and shook him lightly, "Do you see?"

"I CAN'T."

The cry rang out loud in the living room of 221B, freezing Sherlock in his place.

John peered into his eyes, his anguish writ large on his face, his hands clutching at Sherlock's wrists in a death grip.

"Can't you see it? I can't." His tone was pleading as he begged Sherlock to understand.

"I am not like you, Sherlock. You are able to intellectualize everything, see everything from an objective point of view. And believe me I do understand what you are saying. But I am not like you. I can't say to myself that it is okay, Sherlock doesn't mind. I fucked someone…..behind his back… You once said to me that I am loyal to a fault. That it is both my greatest strength and my greatest weakness. Well, guess what Sherlock? I was disloyal to you. After spending so much time agonizing over infidelity, it was I who cheated….How can I live with this guilt, this knowledge? It may be trivial to you. But to me it is a big deal, a huge fucking gigantic deal."

Tears gathered in John's eyes as Sherlock looked on helplessly. How do I help him…..he is drowning with guilt, with the agony of self-recrimination. Once again he is not thinking clearly….how do I help him?

John stood up abruptly, his hands pulling at his hair in frustration. "For fuck's sake, I am not you."

He started to pace, why can't he understand…..how do I make him understand what I am feeling…. He waved his arms around, "Victor told me it should be like free fall. How can I let go? When I still am unable to believe in my heart that I am worthy? That you love me? That you will never leave? How…..don't think I haven't tried, Sherlock. And more than anything else in this entire fucking world, that is where I want to be."

He came closer to Sherlock and peered down at him. Their eyes were mere inches apart as they stared into each other's eyes. John's face was an anguished grimace, Sherlock's eyes wide with desperation, his hands fluttering helplessly by his side as he listened. John raised his hand to gesture, "I am this close." He held his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. "This fucking close to eating my gun. This fucking close to going insane. I am so sick of this guilt, reproach. I am sick of doubting you, doubting us. I keep screwing up and you keep making it okay…"

He stood up again, wretchedness all over his face and anger at himself. Spreading his arms wide he yelled.

"And where does it end, Sherlock? What happens after this is over? Huh? The next time something comes up, I will be the same again. Agonising, doubting, mind going around in circles-that infinite loop that you talked about. I am sick of being this way. I want to see things as clearly as Victor does, as you do. What is wrong with me? But you said we can't change who we are…it seems like this is the way I am….the way I'm always going to be."

John came closer as his hands gripped Sherlock's shirt front as he pulled him closer.

"Listen to me. YOU have to help me. You are my Dom, my friend. I need to purge myself of this corrosive guilt. Atone. Somehow….And YOU are going to help me. I do NOT need absolution, I need penance. I need to be able to look at you in the face again. Like a man, not like a weasel. I need a chance to redeem myself. You have to do something. Punish me. Beat it out of me. Please."

Sherlock's blood ran cold as his eyes widened with dismay. NO…NO, NO John…..

John shook Sherlock by the grip on his shirt front, his soul speaking of deep torment seeking redress from the one place he felt confident in asking for it, "Anything is better than being an ongoing stooge at the hand of my crazy mind. I'm being eaten alive by guilt. I can't eat, I can't sleep. And I'm sure as hell not going to accept you overlooking another one of my melt-downs magnanimously. It makes me feel even more worthless, can't you fucking see it? Be fucking normal for once. Get angry, threaten retribution. Discipline me like a normal Dom. Then I'll feel like I've paid my dues….and then maybe we'll go back to normal. But I refuse to have you say it's okay, John. I don't mind…you got that, Sherlock?"

They stayed in place, immobile, Sherlock looking up with growing alarm, John determined to get what he wanted. What he felt he needed.

As though struck by a sudden thought, he let go of Sherlock and looked around. Frowning with concentration, he stomped off into the bedroom and came out after a little while.

He walked up to Sherlock and dropped the riding crop on his lap.

"Here. Use this…..I had wanted you to hit me for fun, for pleasure. Maybe this would be more appropriate. Punish me, Sherlock." For once do as I say…..for once stop thinking you know what I need, that it has to be YOUR way….He fell to his knees, the grief in his voice tearing into Sherlock. "Don't you get it? I….Sherlock, please…..I need you to exorcise these demons in my head. Victor said you are the best Dom he's ever seen. That you always give your Sub what he needs…I NEED this. Make me whole. The Sub that you truly deserve. I need to be at peace."

John buried his face into Sherlock's chest, desperate arms clinging to Sherlock. The words seemed to come from some as yet unexplored depth of himself, words of hope and entreaty and despair, as he cried out…

"Help me. Please, Sherlock…..I have nowhere else to go."

Sherlock shook his head no, no, NO don't say that, John….he pulled John closer into a desperate embrace, his fingers tangled in John's hair, his face buried in John's neck. A choked cry escaped his throat, "I don't discipline Subs, John…that's just not…."

John's voice was muffled against Sherlock's shoulder, "But you will…..for me….because you love me." He didn't know where the conviction arose from…but this he knew; Sherlock would give him what he needed.

He drew back and looked at Sherlock.

Sherlock sat staring at the riding crop on his lap. John looked at the beautiful face, for once unguarded, naked. A myriad of emotions flashed over Sherlock's face in succession. Anguish...desperation…..doubt…..hesitation…..love….. Sherlock's eyes closed as he thought furiously. Some way out of this challenge, this gauntlet that John had thrown at him so enmeshed with the prayer for absolution, for penance and the demand for affirmation….his mind raced.

John watched as the eyes moved under the delicate closed eyelids, the hands fluttered over the riding crop.

The moments passed in silence. The Dom stood hesitant at the crossroads, lost in thought. The Sub having surrendered his deepest fears and needs at his feet, now waited.

Finally those beautiful blue-grey eyes opened. The look was composed, decisive as Sherlock pulled John close. He cupped his face and stared down, his voice insistent, "If we do this, I want your word that you will give me exactly what I ask for. Remember John, there are no safewords, no limits." He gestured to the bedroom with a quick jerk of his head, "Once we are in there, you obey every command, no questions or hesitation. You endure everything I do to you and in return give me what I ask for. No matter how demanding, how punishing, how cruel you find it."

John felt like he was burning up with the dazzling intensity in Sherlock's eyes. A small tendril of fear crept inside him like a snake. He clamped down on it, even as he mentally stiffened his spine.

Sherlock's eyes moved searchingly over John's face, taking in with satisfaction the look of resolution, the set jaw. "I want your word, John. As a man, as a friend and as my Submissive. We do this only if I have your word…..that this will not have been in vain. Promise me, John."

John leaned up to graze his lips lightly over Sherlock's, his voice rang clear, "I promise, Sherlock. I will take everything you give me. I will do exactly as you say."

Sherlock stood up slowly, tall and commanding, his voice unwavering.

"Very well then. I need you to go to the bedroom. Strip. And wait. I will join you shortly."

John nodded, his chin up, hands steady, "I won't let you down, Sherlock. Not again. I promise." He gave a short nod as he walked off to the bedroom and closed the door.

It had been fifteen minutes.

Sherlock sat on his chair, applying leather conditioner to his riding crop. He watched with fascination the gentle tremor in his hands, dread disguised as hesitation. His jaw was clenched. He needs this….for John, I can do this…..he is hurting…..he needs to stop hurting…I can do this…...for John.

He kept rubbing.