Chapter 45

Suddenly Ian's lips were on his, hesitant and soft, but with a hint of a desperate passion that must have been building in him for days. Sherlock had expected some kind of thrill, like the first time he kissed John. A fluttering in his stomach, a shortness of breath. But he felt nothing. Just slightly embarrassed on Ian's behalf.

But he had asked for this, had he not? How would Ian feel if he pushed him away now with a 'Sorry, not interested'? In the past, he would not have cared, but he remembered John's concern for the young man's feelings and realised that the right thing, the polite thing to do, would be to give him a chance.

So Sherlock put a hand on Ian's cheek and returned the kiss, mentally adjusting to how he seemed to prefer it. It was very different from kissing John. The kiss didn't last long. Ian pulled away, watching Sherlock with a mix of eagerness and apprehension. Sherlock tried smiling kindly at him, but Ian did clearly not see what he had been expecting.

He looked crestfallen. "Oh, god. Forgive me, I..."

"No, it's okay," Sherlock said quickly. "I suppose it is just too soon after..."

Ian nodded. "Yes, of course. I'm sorry." He got up and walked away, stopping at the window staring out into the darkness.

Sherlock got to his feet and approached him. "No, it's me who is sorry," he said, searching for the right thing to say. "I thought I wanted this... I really like you. It's just that John and I were together for a long time, and..."

Ian turned to him and smiled. "I understand. I'm sorry, I should have realised that you weren't ready." He took a step towards him and gently stroked Sherlock's cheek. "Maybe in time..."

"Maybe," Sherlock lied, suddenly desperate to get away. Ian was sweet and attractive, but he was not John. And right now, the only person he wanted to see, the only person he could bear touching him, was John. He managed a smile. "I better get some sleep," he said. "I have to catch a train early tomorrow."

Ian nodded. "Of course."

Sherlock could feel his eyes on his back as he left the room, fighting his urge to just run and hide.

...

On the train back to London, Sherlock considered getting in touch with John for the first time in over a week. The incident with Ian, the previous night, had made him realise that though some things about life with John had been difficult, the good things had far outweighed them. How could he have been so stupid to let a brief moment of frustration ruin everything they had had? How could he have blamed John for Mycroft's interference? And all the terrible things he had said...

He buried his face in his hands for a moment. What was done, was done. He could not go back. Not now. He sent a text to Lestrade instead, informing him that he was returning to London and asking if he was needed on any new cases. Soon, a reply confirmed that indeed his help was needed and it would be appreciated if he could stop by New Scotland Yard as soon as it was convenient.

After having left his things in the hotel room where he would be staying until he could find permanent lodgings, Sherlock went to meet Lestrade. The case seemed pretty simple: some expensive jewellery had disappeared from a hidden safe in the home of a wealthy business woman. Only the most valuable items had been removed, leaving several pieces that were of sentimental value to the woman.

Sherlock visited the flat, spoke with the woman and then returned to his hotel and set to work on his laptop. The next morning, he called Lestrade to explain that it was a simple case of insurance fraud, orchestrated by the woman's ex-husband without her knowledge. He had some rather pressing debt and had wanted to ask for her help. But he had discovered that she did not at that time have the available funds to help him, so he had taken it upon himself to create some cash flow. He had not attempted to sell the items, which Sherlock suspected he would have attempted to return to her at some later time. They could most likely be found at his residence.

Lestrade was grateful for the help and promised Sherlock to let him know as soon as something else arose.

With the case solved, Sherlock set about the much harder task of finding a new place to live. It took him almost a week to find a small flat in West Kensington that he could just afford. By that time, he had had the cast removed and was ready to start working again in earnest. He changed the contact information on his website, and soon a small trickle of cases began. He tried to bury himself in his work, but as the weeks passed, he found that he had lost the drive. It was really just work now.

...

The nightmares returned almost every night now, awakening John breathless and sometimes in tears. If it went on like this, he would have to see his therapist again, and then how pathetic would he sound? 'My boyfriend left and now the war is haunting me again.' John snorted at the thought.

He knew it was time to take things in his own hands. A few weeks had proven that Sherlock wouldn't be coming back, and he had to move on. He couldn't spend his spare time feeling bad and lonely in a too large flat for the rest of his life. Maybe he should find himself a girlfriend, so he would at least have a comforting body with him in bed, and he could build himself a new life. A normal life, after he had gotten used to the danger and thrill of living with Sherlock? God, no. He wasn't ready for that.

...

On his next day off, he called Lestrade for a night at the pub. It had been quite a while since he had seen him, and John had to admit that he had avoided him, as the subject would inevitably change to Sherlock at some point.

"So you and Sherlock have broken up."

There you had it. "Yeah."

"I saw him on a case, two weeks ago. Stolen jewellery that turned out to be an insurance fraud, nothing too special, but he really needed something to occupy his mind. He's found himself a new flat," Greg said.

"Ah. So he's back in London. Cardiff must not have been such a success, then," John said flatly.

Greg looked a little confused. "From what I have heard, it actually was. He helped that old book collector with something for a museum in Warwick, I didn't quite catch the finer details."

"Oh. I thought... I didn't know he really had a job there." John felt a little uncomfortable. Had it not been for Ian that Sherlock had gone there, after all?

"Why else would he be there?" Lestrade asked.

John shrugged. "Dunno. I don't really know what he's been up to. Somehow I thought I would have heard it sooner if he returned to London."

Greg sighed. "Neither of you look very good at the moment, if you don't mind me saying. You should talk to him."

John shrugged again and changed the subject.