Stupid, stupid stupid. He should have known that John wouldn't move just because of the threat of imminent death. He was a solider, for Christ's sake. Why hadn't he realised John would react like this? His deductions were off, for some reason. He couldn't help but relate it to the fact that John was currently pressed up against him.
"Explain. Now." It was an order, not a request.
"This would be much easier if we went inside the church. Come now, John." He dragged himself from John's clutches and began to walk towards the silent, empty church. If he had time, Sherlock would have explained to John exactly why this building was useless- the proof (at least for him) that God didn't exist. But he didn't have time. He needed to get John moving. He looked at John again, and added:
"Please?"
That did it. Normal people responded so well to manners and pleading, especially from him. He tended not to say 'please' or 'thank you' much. It only really slowed him down, but had found that with certain people those little words would encourage them to do what he wanted. If he had his way no one would ever need to have manners.
John started to move towards the church; already he was putting less weight on his cane. Sherlock tried to usher him forward, to make him go faster. But John was determined to go at his own stubborn snail's pace. When they got there, as Sherlock had thought (well, known actually but others would say he had just predicted it), it was totally empty. But they would have to be quite if they didn't want the vicar to them from the parish. He couldn't afford that, he had to make sure that they weren't interrupted, so he locked the door behind them with a key that he had acquired a while ago. It was also an extra precautionary measure to make sure that if anyone had seen them, then they wouldn't be able to follow.
"How do I even know you're you? You could be an imposter in a mask… the way that little girl screamed….obviously someone that looks like you is working with Moriarty." John demanded.
"Dull. What a boring conclusion. I'm obviously me and the real explanation to how I'm still here is far more exciting" He pulled John over to pew in the very back of the church and sat down. "Though I did already explain it to you"
"What? Why do you keep saying that? If I knew you weren't dead I wouldn't have….and I probably wouldn't have ever realised that-" he stopped abruptly and looked embarrassed. "You didn't explain anything"
"Of course I did. Have you forgotten what I said when I called you from the rooftop?" At those words, John's face fell- he was again consumed with the grief that Sherlock had seen earlier at the gravesite, even though now it had been completely illogical. John should just delete that feeling, completely, he thought. Before remembering that John didn't do that, it was only him.
The thing was, he had started to think of John as his equal rather than just some other stupid being that was there aid him in an investigation ( John had always been such a lot more than that to him, he realised that now).
"'It's just a trick John. Just a magic trick' I told you that what I was about to do wasn't real" He emphasised the last word, hoping John would be able to do understand without him needing to explain, that would take far too long.
"No. No Sherlock I didn't get that. No one would have understood that. We don't all have as brilliant as minds as you do." He sighed at the end, exasperated. John was still staring at Sherlock with such an intensity that he it was as if he was afraid that if he even blinked, Sherlock would disappear. Which, of course would be a perfectly justifiable sentiment. "Now. For Goodness sakes, explain"
Sherlock sighed and plummeted into the long, detailed and by all accounts baffling tale of he had survived a 100ft fall from the roof of St Bart's, convinced pathologists (though that was more to do with Molly than anything) and the government that he was dead.
"Brilliant. Bloody brilliant. You're amazing, a complete prick," He looked up and chuckled slightly at Sherlock "but amazing. You know I don't think I'll be able to forgive you for doing this" He looked downcast, the grief still evident on his face.
"I know John. I'm sorry, really. I didn't realise that anyone even care this much about me, I would have told you sooner if I knew this was how it made you feel. If I'd known that you-" The look on John's face made him stop, he had gone bright red and his face was contorted into an expression somewhere between pain, embarrassment, confusion and - the one that made Sherlock want to get hold of John right now and never let go- longing.
"John- what you said, before I came over-did you mean it?" For some reason he couldn't bring himself to say the words. He didn't know if he could say them. What if he hadn't heard John properly (though even the idea of that seemed totally absurd)? He needed confirmation. He craved that, he wanted to hear John say it again- though he knew from the way John looked at him now that the words at the grave earlier had been true.
"Yes. It-it's true. Sherlock I love you. I have for- well I don't even know when it happen. I don't get it I thought I was straight. And of course there is no way that you would ever feel the same way" He hadn't looked at Sherlock since he had started speaking. He was studying an ugly-looking mural on the wall of the church (Ugh. Why did people let children paint?).
"But John I do. I- I love you John Watson" And it was true, he had loved John since almost the moment they met. Since he had realised that John was different, that he actually was intelligent on some level , that John could actually understand him (well on a certain level) almost no one else could do that. John was much more than his best friend. But he had never understood that before, as he hadn't known the difference between a best friend and- well he supposed that now they would be- boyfriend. For him, this was something new and he didn't understand. He hated it. He knew everything about everything, well the important things, he couldn't stand the thought of not knowing. It was like he was half blind, he didn't know how to handle the situation or what he was supposed to think of it. He wasn't even sure what John was thinking. What was happening to him? It was like he was- ugh- normal. Stupid.
Wait. Was this an emotional response? Usually he wouldn't care, maybe not even notice if someone had had a different reaction- an emotional one- to the way he had wanted them to react. He could handle it. But when it involved John he would often feel slightly off, as if there was a piece of translucent glass between them, hindering his deductions.
"Re-Really? But why-how could you like me? You're brilliant and you're beautiful. Any woman, or man , would have you if they could. And I'. I'm ordinary" John looked hopeful, his eyes were glistening with emotion. He seemed to have accepted the fact that he wasn't what he thought what he thought he was his entire life. He only seemed to care about Sherlock now, not what anyone would think when they found out.
"John, you're anything but ordinary. You have a fantastic mind, you're not the same as the rest, never think that. You're charming, you're strong. You-" He could have gone on, but something had stopped him mid- this had happened in any other circumstance he would have just gone on, regardless.
John's lips were on his, Sherlock was startled by this development he wasn't quite sure how to react, he fell into the kiss. John's lips were surprisingly hard against his own, they were tender and sweet. His body reacted strangely to this, it was as if an electric current had been passed through his body and he wanted more. He needed this, he'd never felt anything like this was before. It was better than caffeine, hell it was better than nicotine or in fact any other addictive substances.
He pulled away with great difficulty; fortunately he was better at controlling these sorts of impulses than John who seemed to have completely forgotten where they were, judging by the state of him.
"John. We need to move, someone may know where I've been. I can't put you in danger" Though he knew that it was exactly what he had been doing at that exact moment.
"I know of a little café where we can talk, and then I have somewhere else to go"
John blanched "You're going to leave me again?"
"I promise it'll only be for a few hours. There are a few arrangements I need to make"
"No. I'll go with you"
He looked at John in a way that showed he was serious about his plan to go alone, but also slightly teasingly.
"And there's nothing I can do to change your mind?" He raised his eyebrows.
John looked slightly taken aback. As if he didn't exactly know how to react. If Sherlock was actually hinting at…..or whether it was just another of his manipulatory tactics. It was probably both.
"No, no. I'm coming"
Sherlock sighed. "You stubborn little man". They both giggled at this joke, even though it wasn't really that funny. It was the relief. The fact that they finally had each other.