NOTE: Quick note to all readers fanfiction appears to be deleting all stories that are mature so if this or any other stories of mine get deleted I will put the link up of where you can find them on AO3.
ALSO! Been a hectic week with interviews, being ill and moving house so I do apologise for the lateness of this chapter! I predict about two more chapters to go in this story! *sob*. So enough nattering, here is chapter 12! :D
John does not leave his room for most of the following day and his friend's absence serves as a pertinent reminder of the previous evening. Sherlock represses the urge to drag him out and demand that he speak to him. He stays silent, unsure of how to proceed, and so very afraid of the damage he may have caused. He wonders if it is irreparable; if the first true friendship he has built with another living soul has been lost. He tries to distract himself. His fingers tinker with a half-hearted determination at his experiment while his mind ponders on John.
Everything had been so utterly primal and simple. Sherlock had degraded himself to his most basic form; to be driven by his most primitive need. It should have terrified and disgusted him. But it had felt wondrous and he craves more. However his error is a constant within his mind and stops him from acting on his affections again. He isn't used to doubt. It is a needless emotion. But now he is engulfed by it. They had wanted each other and they took action.
Now all he thinks about is the shame that was echoed in the sea-blue depths of John's eyes. His face was awash with shock and anger as he had looked at Sherlock. He cannot bear to ever see John look at him that way again. Sherlock cannot understand all of the variables. He cannot comprehend the notion of being 'gay' or that John was with Mary. He only understands one fact that he wants John. That is all he cares about knowing. But to John everything else matters so very much.
He finds he cannot predict John's course of action. Will he want to leave? Or will he somehow understand the meaning behind Sherlock's actions and comprehend what Sherlock can barely understand. That Sherlock wants John. Loves him, perhaps not in the way ordinary people love, but love all the same.
His ears strain for any sound coming from upstairs and his heart thuds frantically in his chest. He can hear the weary footsteps of his flatmate trudge, almost hesitantly, down the stairs. John sighs wearily, dreading seeing Sherlock again, and what he has to say to Mary. He had reorganised their date for this afternoon and after a morning of replaying over everything he finally came to terms with what he had to do. There had always been an elephant in the room regarding Sherlock's and his relationship. He had always ignored his previous girlfriend's comments on how he would always put Sherlock before them. How he can never stay mad at Sherlock and will follow him anywhere no matter the danger. He certainly isn't ready to deal with it until he has seen Mary but he finally acknowledges it. He knows he can't keep lying to Mary and is going to do the right thing.
He had never felt so lost. He had always considered himself straight. Not it the literal sense; broader than that. He always knew himself, understood his direction in life and was always frank. Always honest. And yet Sherlock had bombarded his way into his life and now he finds that he doesn't know himself as well as he thought. He hadn't comprehended that his life could ever be like this. That he would feel so much for one individual. It truly frightens him. He is so deeply entrenched in Sherlock's life and he in his; he knows that if he takes this step. If he tries to become something more with Sherlock then…if he ever did lose Sherlock again…well…he doesn't believe he could cope with it a second time.
He makes his way to the kitchen and looks up to meet the gaze of Sherlock who looks, for want of any other description, petrified. His pale blue eyes are wide and startled; lacking any of their former certainty and mischief. Sherlock is the first to look away and his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. John, however, cannot tear his eyes from Sherlock's profile. He is desperate to understand his motivations. Why did you kiss me? He wants to grab Sherlock by the shoulders and shake him until he gets some answers.
Instead he tells him, voice firm and steady, masking any emotion he might be feeling.
"I'm going out…I'll be back in about an hour or so". He tells him and waits for Sherlock to respond. However he makes no sign that he has even heard him. John can't help but feel slightly wounded by Sherlock's indifference and leaves without saying anything else.
He pulls his coat tighter around himself as the cool air hits his body and walks numbly towards where Mary will be waiting. His thoughts are still only of Sherlock.
Sherlock fights the urge to sweep his experiment of the table onto the floor. He could not respond to John. Fear had captivated him and held him prisoner. The need to destroy, images of Mary flicker in his mind, something is overwhelming. He is not a fool. He knows that John has gone to see Mary, no doubt to see if he can move in as soon as possible, his fingers tremble. He notes it with an peculiar detached feeling; an interesting bodily reaction.
His heart rate picks up and his breathing is shallow. His eyes sting and he finds that his throat has become tight. He catalogues everything and detests it. Amongst his physiological reactions he notices that his craving for nicotine has increased exponentially. He abandons his experiment and grabs his stash of nicotine patches. He applies rows of them up his arm and thinks hard about how he can get John to forgive him. How he can keep him. Sherlock refuses to succumb to something so base as melancholy; he will use his vast intellect and tenacity to overcome this problem. As he always does. He lies back on the sofa, his dark curls contrasting against the lighter fabric of the sofa, and ignores the niggling doubts that hiss like vipers in his mind.
John sits across from Mary who is smiling tentatively and John absently realises that he has not said anything since greeting her. The air around them is tense and John can't help but feel guilty for what he is about to do.
"What did you mean when you said that?" John asks, unaware of how vague his question is, his mind completely focused on the memory of Mary's words.
"Said what?" She replies looking puzzled at his words.
John shifts uncomfortably in his seat and allows his gaze roam anywhere around the small cafe but on Mary.
"When you said that, Sherlock loves me". He reiterates and finds the courage to look directly at her. Mary's gaze turns wistful and a small sad smile finds her face.
"So you can see it now". She says and calmly takes a small of tea.
"I…I don't…" He starts but Mary carries on talking as if he had never spoken.
"Yes…I think you do, John." She says firmly placing her hand over his causing a small tremor to crawl up his arm.
"I…we were drunk and suddenly he just…just kissed me. And I kissed him back…." He huffs out a somewhat disbelieving, hysterical laugh and continues.
"But I'm not even…God. I'm so sorry Mary. I never intended to hurt you like this. I do love you." He tells her, squeezing her hand, and takes in the slight watering of her eyes. In this moment he hates himself even more for causing her pain. Guilt and anger towards himself and Sherlock are overwhelming him. Mary sniffs slightly and sends another smile in his direction but it's fractured and tight.
"The sad thing is John I know you do… but there is a reason for what happened, John. The kind of love you have for me and the love you have for Sherlock…it's. No, let me finish". She says holding up a hand to John's open mouth.
"No matter what kind of relationship you want to pursue with him. He will always be the one constant in your life that you cannot be without. I know…I know because I felt the same way about Daniel. I've seen how you are with each other. And as cheesy as it sounds…you complete each other. And I'm not even mad that you kissed him, John. I have every reason to be. But if anything I'm jealous". She says smiling genuinely now and releases his hand to sit back in her seat.
John can feel his mouth open and close a few times before he can even muster the brain power to reply.
"Jealous?" Is all he can ask causing Mary to shake her head a little before looking directly at him; the severity of her gaze making him unable to look away.
"You don't even know how lucky you are. The man you love came back. Don't waste that. Please, don't waste that. And promise me... that we will still be friends? I'd hate to lose you, John". She asks hope radiating from her face.
John can feel all the air leave his body in one great rush as the meaning of Mary's words hit him. She is right. John has a chance that is rarely ever given and he has two options before him. He can ignore his feelings and go back to being friends with Sherlock always wondering if he could have had more. Or he can act like the man, like the solider he believes himself to be, and admit to Sherlock just how much he means to him; consequences be damned. An unwilling smile slowly spreads across his face; full of joy and hope.
"I…I don't deserve a friend like you, Mary." He tells her, meaning every word.
She reaches forward and cups his cheek tenderly.
"No…you don't." She agrees allowing a thumb to trace his cheekbones. An intimate act that they both know will never be repeated again.
He rises from his seat, leaving some money on the table to cover their bills and places a light kiss on her cheek.
"Thank you Mary". He says hoping she can tell how grateful he is to have her for a friend. She smiles wiping a small tear from the corner of her eye with her thumb and nods slightly.
"See you later, John. Let me know how it goes." She chuckles and waves him off as he crosses the street.
John can feel some of his earlier bravado leave him as he strides to his destination. Oh god, but he's…he's Sherlock… how the hell I am supposed to…but he stops himself there. He instead focuses about everything he feels towards Sherlock and the kiss they shared. There had been no mistaking the passion Sherlock had displayed. John had shared a few drunken kisses in his time, although none admittedly with any male friends, but they had never contained the same kind of fire that he had felt when Sherlock's lips had met his. He recalls the hands that had roamed over his body and the domineering nature of Sherlock's touch. Sucking bruises on his neck and hands pushing under his shirt to feel the skin there.
It is the first time he has allowed himself to think about the kiss and he can't deny the heat curling at the base of his stomach. He allows his imagination to go further, images of Sherlock naked and panting on his bed, a flush crawling up his pale skin. He wonders if Sherlock is proportionate to the rest of his body which causes John to flush, despite the cool air, at the thought of Sherlock hard and swollen against his muscled stomach. He wonders what it would be like to feel his naked body slide against Sherlock's, to taste him every inch of him and to feel him in…He fights down the arousal licking at his core and walks faster to their apartment.
Perhaps I should re-evaluate the 'whole-not gay' thing, he wonders, blushing furiously now. But an attractive woman with an ample cleavage on display walks by and attracts his attention. Maybe bisexual then? He shakes his head, knowing that the semantics didn't matter and smiles knowing that they really didn't. He ponders what he will say to Sherlock and decides that honesty is the best policy. He will just be upfront and hopes that he won't be horribly rejected by the end of it.
He pauses outside of his apartment door and takes a deep breath. His hand clenches around the door handle. He can feel his whole body tense and he is painfully aware of how wrong this can go. He might lose his one true friend forever. He might be rejected for Sherlock's work and be asked to leave the apartment. But he may also gain something so much more if he is willing to risk all those things. He knows that it won't be easy if he and Sherlock became a couple. Sherlock will most likely drive him crazy and there will be some difficult times ahead. But he knows it will never be dull with Sherlock around and he cannot imagine ever being without him. He's got his second chance and he is going to take it. With that resolve and his heart thundering in his chest; he steps inside.
Sherlock: *sighs* "I am here to request that you please leave reviews for this fantastic story..."
John: "Sherlock...you don't have to be so sarcastic. It's a very good story."
ME: "Why, thank you John! And that's very kind of you Sherlock, asking all these lovely readers to leave me a review!"
Sherlock: *eye roll* "John, come. We're leaving.
John: "Sorry about him...But do leave her a review, it's only polite."
SO YOU HEARD THE MEN! BE NICE AND LEAVE ME A REVIEW! Heck, a word would suffice! Thanks for reading! :)
AN: In this Mary's dead fiancée is called Daniel if anyone can tell me other wise I shall be happy to alter it!