14. Leaving
The movers packed the last box onto the truck. John signed the clipboard and watched as it drove away. Sherlock had already gone up.
"Sad thing to lose you." Mrs Hudson said, "Don't know what we'll do without you. Sherlock will be ten times worse with you not around. All his goings on. I don't know how I'll stand it."
"Yes, I'll miss you too Mrs Hudson." John said before walking up the stairs to his apartment for the last time.
The living room looked much as it ever did. Most of the things in the apartment were Sherlock's after all. Sherlock had offered him the chair, but he had left it here for visits. Mary already had a complete living room set.
Sherlock was at his customary perch by the window. "I guess I better check out my room to see that I have everything." John said and seeing no reaction he turned and went up the stairs. He heard the sound of footsteps behind him as he entered the room.
It seemed so empty now. There was only a wooden dresser and a bed without sheets. John went over to the dresser and checked the drawers finding them all empty. He stood by the window and looked back at Sherlock who had remained by the door barely inside the space that was John's old room.
"Well I'm all cleared out. Everything's ready in case you get another flatmate."
"There will be no other flatmate John." Sherlock said.
"But the rent?" John said, "You can't afford it alone."
"Mycroft has been paying the rent. He has an automatic account that does it. I don't think that he even knows that it's still set up that way. I'll get along alright."
"But if Mycroft's been paying it? What have you been doing with my money?" John said a bit angry.
"I saved it. I invested it. To give to you as a wedding present." Sherlock said.
"I'm not getting married. I'm just moving." John said.
"Yes of course." Sherlock replied.
"You and Mycroft. Always trying to tell me what I'm thinking."
"Mycroft?" Sherlock asked, "Did you see Mycroft? What did he want?"
"To stop me from moving." John said, "He made a pass at me."
"What?" Sherlock exclaimed "I'm going to have to have a talk with my dear brother about proper manners."
"No, no, no Sherlock," John said, " It was just … a misunderstanding. He was just...helping me get my thoughts straight about you."
"Oh, is that what you think he was doing?" Sherlock said the edges of his mouth turned down. "So, how did you respond to this pass by Mycroft?" John looked at Sherlock who was trying to look casual and nonchalant, but was visibly hurt by this confession.
"Well," John said, " He tried to put a hand down my pants, so I clocked him one."
Sherlock broke into a smile. "Really? I'd have liked to have seen that. Then what?"
"Then he immobilized me with that umbrella of his. Is that why he always carries it around?"
"Mycroft always preferred weapons. He studied the sword and the cane. I prefer hand to hand myself. You clocked him...really? Does he have a black eye? I should go visit."
"Blimey. You Holmes are an interesting pair."
"Yes, I suppose I am 'Holmes' to you now. When you have children, will you have them call me Mr. Holmes or Uncle Sherlock? No, Mr Holmes will be better. It's always the person called 'Uncle' who turns out to be a child molester or a thief."
"Sherlock. Don't be that way."
"What way? What way do you want me to be?"
"I just don't want you to talk that way. " John said, "I don't want you to feel..."
"To feel what?"Sherlock said, his voice cracking, "To feel hurt? Well it's too late. I do feel hurt. I feel abandoned. How could you suggest that I simply rent out this room as if anyone else could ever replace you."
"This isn't about replacing anything. We can still work on cases together."
"In your spare time, when you aren't too busy."
"Yes, in my spare time. We discussed this."
"We?" Sherlock said accusingly, "As if you heard a word of what I had to say."
"I heard you Sherlock. I just...had to make a choice."
"Well you made your choice. This isn't your home anymore. So go!" His outburst echoed in the empty room before falling to the floor in silence. The two of them stood there not looking at anything except the gray emptiness.
"Alright." John said finally, "Goodbye Sherlock."
But as John walked toward the door Sherlock reached his arm out to him. John turned and saw Sherlock's eyes wide, round and watery as he said, "John, don't go. Please don't go like this."
John grabbed Sherlock's hand and kissed it. Then he held his shoulders and hugged him to his chest. Sherlock closed his eyes and held on for a few seconds, then he took a deep breath and pushed John away.
"Forgive me John. It was a moment of weakness. You should go now. Mary's waiting." Sherlock walked a few steps into the room and faced away refusing to see John.
John looked at Sherlock's stiff back. At Sherlock's version of keeping a stiff upper lip. Sherlock was in pain, but he put John's happiness before his own. Where was the selfish child of their first months together? He was noble and full of compassion. Sherlock Holmes had become a GOOD man. At this moment he was so beautiful that John could hardly bear to watch him. He walked up to him and put his arms around Sherlock's waist.
John put his mouth on the back of Sherlock's neck. Sherlock stiffened. John rubbed his tongue across the back of Sherlock's neck spelling out first in script and then in Morse code the letter S. Sherlock turned his head and glanced at John out of the corner of his eye.
John tightened his grip around Sherlock's waist and hugged him. Then he leaned over and stared at Sherlock's profile. Sherlock glanced at John and then away. So John rubbed Sherlock's neck with his chin before planting his mouth on the side of Sherlock's neck. He tapped out in Morse code the message
M. I. S. S. Y. O. U.
Sherlock dropped his head to his chin in surrender and then he turned and faced John. They stared into each other's eyes and then John stood on his toes and kissed Sherlock. Sherlock wrapped his arms around him and kissed him back passionately, deeply, desperately.
Sherlock rubbed John's back in large circles pulling him closer as if he wanted to absorb John into himself. He lifted John from the floor and then staggered backward until he fell onto the bare mattress. The sun was just setting and the shadows of evening gave the room a golden glow. Grains of dust floated through the air making halos around their faces. How could one express in a moment, in an hour, feelings that went through the core of a person's heart. Sherlock and John lay locked in each other's arms their legs tangled on the sheet-less bed.
John reached up and tenderly kissed Sherlock's forehead. Sherlock closed his eyes and covered John's mouth with his own. John could feel tears falling on his cheeks. They rolled into the corner of his mouth so that Sherlock's kisses tasted of salt.
Time passed by as they lay together in a world of their own. The glow of the streetlights the only illumination in the darkened room. They held on as hours passed by in the outside world. John's eyes began to close as exhaustion led him toward sleep. Sherlock kissed the side of John's neck beside the ear, and then he tapped on John's ear lobe. Half asleep, John concentrated on the message L.O. He must have slept through the beginning of the message. It was surely HELLO. More letters V.E.Y . John opened his eyes O.U. J It didn't make sense?
HELLO VEY OUJ
But then again maybe he didn't mean hello. What was the first letter he remembered.
L.O.
More letters: O. H. N. John spelled the letters out in his mind again,
L.O.V.E. Y.O.U. J.O.H.N.
and then he turned and gave Sherlock a deep, long kiss.