After I tried to upload this chapter about a dozen times from my iPhone, I realized that the only way it's going to be published properly is from my computer.
So, as much as I wish to update this story on a daily basis, I'm in the army, which means I only have a computer once every a week or two- Sorry!
I wanted to say that I'm completely moved by your comments, and they give me lots of motivation! so thank you so much!
and now, here's the chapter you've all been waiting for;

Chapter 7- A Human Comfort

Sherlock Pov

The last 3 days passed so quickly, that I felt like they were some kind of a very long nightmare.

Just 3 days ago, I was about to leave the great kingdom, and go on to Eastern Europe, where only god knew what was expecting me. Just yesterday, John was still with me, I still hugged him, I almost kissed him. Just yesterday. Everything seemed much easier yesterday, when he was next to me. I can already get used to the pathetic sensation that following me everywhere I go, when I think about him.

I picked up the phone and dialed his number, just wanting to make sure that he arrived safely to Paris, that everything is alright with both, him and Mary, trying to convince myself that it's not because I miss him, but everyone seems to know the truth, maybe I should face it too.

His phone's off. Probably he and Mary are just having some holiday-sex/thank-god-we're-alive-sex. Damn it. I cannot believe I actually envy them. Well, envy Mary. Oh for god sakes, there are better things to do than mull about John's sex life.

I had better things to do; I needed to think about Moriarty, where am I going to find him, and about his next possible victim- Molly.

Text to: Molly Hopper
From: Sherlock Holmes
'Are you ready?'

Text to: Sherlock Holmes.
From: Molly Hopper.
'Yes. Everything is set. Take care, Sherlock. Call me if you'll need any help.'

It is hard to think. I know that Molly will do fine; she is smart enough to deal with the plan with started planning since the day I came back, just in case that someone will come after her. It was time for her own face death, which is an easy enough task, since she works at the morgue. But I still couldn't think straight. Something is utterly wrong, but what is it?

When I picked up the violin few minutes later to relax, there were knocking on the front door.
I opened the door to see, the beautiful as ever, Janine. She was crying hysterically and she was gasping for air and tried to control herself, but without much luck. She was obviously in distress and came here to make me feel bad, for what was, practically, my fault. Janine just stood there, in the doorstep, for a few minutes, crying her heart out. I tried to hug her, but she just slapped me instead. I guess I deserve that.

I felt completely hopeless of course, watching her cry like that, knowing it's my fault, and yet there was nothing I can do to help, or could have done at the time.

"Janine, I'm sorry, for everything." She eyed me for a minute and went pass me into the cold flat.

"Tea would do for now" she said as she collapsed on the couch, trying again to regain her focus back.

I went to the kitchen and put on the kettle, making tea as I remembered she liked it- strong without milk, with a lot of sugar.

She was sitting on the couch in complete silent. Finally, after a few minutes, she stopped crying and started to calm down. I gave her the cup of tea and sat next to her, trying to understand what she was doing here, and maybe, just maybe, convince her to talk about what happened, and how. It was important to me to know everything that happened that day, how it started, where was she when she was kidnapped, if Jim himself have done all this horrible things to her. It wasn't critical for the game, it was all history anyway, and I can't even explain why, I just need to know.

"He thought it was funny, you see. He read all those articles about our sex-life, all the '7 times a night in Baker street'… so he thought it would be funny to undress me. It was humiliating Sherlock." She paused and took a few deep breath, trying to avoid another panic attack. "When he made me read this stupid riddle, I was sure I was about to die! Do you have any idea how frightening that was?!" she pulled me closer to her and leaned her head on my chest. She started crying again, more calmly though. I stroke her hair as gently as I could, trying to comfort her, trying to ask for her forgiveness without speaking. Her tears wetted my shirt, but I didn't really mind, I just wanted to get this over with, to stop her from crying and promise her, without words, that everything will be alright from now on.

What I didn't anticipate is that moment one she stopped crying and raised her head so she could look me in the eyes. I know that look; the look of lust and sentiment.

Before I knew it, she was already kissing me hard and started reposition herself, and within seconds, she was sitting in my lap. It wasn't the first time Janine nearly raped me out of the blue, but it was different than, we were together. We were a couple, even if it was only for a short time. It's different now, we haven't seen each other for more than six months, we aren't together and I haven't done anything sexual since. I kissed her back as passionately as I managed. Knowing that she needs this, she needs love, comfort, desire, and "steaming hot" (as Janine always says) sex. Normal people often find sex as a comfort, and if that what she needed, it was the least I could do in the circumstance.

There we were, on the couch, most of our cloths were already vanished, as she whispered my name repeatedly. It was then, when I figured that I can't do that. As much as I want to comfort her, and make her happy (because, let's face it, it's my fault she is here to begin with) I just can't do that.

I tried to call her and tell her to stop, but it seems she only saw it as a gesture of desire. She was already naked on top of me when I finally managed to make her listen and pull her away.

"What's wrong?" She asked, trying to breathe normally again. I swallowed hard and couldn't believe that I'm turning her down now. Hurting her again was really, one of the fewest things on my mind.

"Janine, I just... Can't." She stood up, her eyes wide and her cheeks and ears red with embarrassment. She put her clothes back on and tossed me mine. We dressed in silence, and she went to the kitchen, putting on the kettle again. She leaned on the counter, staring at the floor. After a long moment of silent, she asked, with a trembling voice, why.

"Do you really want to know?" She straightens up so she was facing me, looking me in the eyes, and nodded.

"John Watson." Is all in needed to say and all the embarrassment, anger and lust disappeared from her face, and instead she was giggling and smiling broadly.

"So you finally figured it out than? It's about damn time! I'm so happy for you Sherly" she came back from the kitchen and hugged me, still giggling. I was utterly confused, which made her start laughing even louder "Oh, come on Sherl, everyone knows you love him, it's about time you'd confess it to yourself."

"Yeah yeah, I got that part. But why are you happy for me?" I smiled wryly, "he is happily married with Mary."

Janine stopped laughing and just smiled with sympathy in her eyes. "I know, but don't you think it's better than hiding it? You should tell him... The rumor says that he is madly in love with you even more."

"The rumor says...? Does everyone knows?!"

"Of course love, you two are so obviously in love with each other. Both of you completely blind to each other's feelings and your own, but everyone saw it since day one. Even Mary told me that she's a bit afraid that John might leave her for you after you came back."

I looked at her completely shocked. How could I have not seen this? I heard what people said about us being a couple, but I never gave it much thought until recently. I most certainly didn't thought that everyone thought so. That everyone saw what I didn't let myself see for a few years. I felt like a goddamn fool.

"Don't be so hard on yourself Sherly, sometimes we rather ignore our own feelings to protect ourselves. It's natural."

"I don't do natural." She chuckled and rolled her eyes at me, as if she was trying to say 'surprise, you arse.'

"Well, seems like now you do... It's ok Sherly, being in love is magical. And who knows... Maybe if you'll tell him-"

"He is gone. There's nothing to tell. I probably never going to see him again, so let's not waste our time talking about it." She didn't say anything for a few long minutes. Well, it's not like there was something to say. She just hugged me tightly again. When I tried to let go, she just tightened her hold on me.

There was nothing to say.

Janine left about an hour later, an hour that we mostly just hugged each other, comforting each other with a tight embrace. The rest of the time, she asked about John, why am I not going to see him again, and if Moriarty got him too. I was shivering with dread by just thinking about that possibility. I told her everything, when I first figured it all out, about the letter I never gave him, about what happened after Jim returned, and about the almost-kiss. When we got to the part that I had to give up on John for his own safety, I felt that cursed lump in my throat.

She promised me that everything is going to be 'fine' and that the both of us will find a solution.

I wanted to say to her that there is nothing we can do, but she seemed so determined, it was almost encouraging, I couldn't take that naive hope from her.

Still can't stop thinking about John. I tried to call him again but his phone was still off. I began to think that something bad might have happened, but superseded that thought. I'm sure he's just fine, hanging out in Paris. Probably barely thinking about me, if he is thinking about me at all.

I remember that time 2 years ago, when I came back just to see if he's alright. It was about 5 months after he tried to kill himself. He was on his first date. One of many. The woman was much taller than him, but attractive. She has a kind face, a bit childish even, and she even seemed to like him. He tried to look like he wants her, but if you knew him as I do, you would know that he didn't even tried to like her, he just tried to sleep with her, which he did. It was very hard to watch that date; it was as if moved on. It was the first time I found myself completely jealous. Too bad it wasn't the last one.

In a perfect world, he would be right here, sitting next to me, watching some stupid sitcom series on the television. He would make tea for the both of us and force me to eat something. He would hug and kiss me as if I'm the only one in the world deserves his affection, and I would kiss him back, because he's the only one that I want his affection, that I want him to love me and that I'll love him back. In my perfect world, he isn't married (unless it is with me), he loves me and wants to be next to me until death.

But, as even the stupidest people on earth knows, this world is not perfect. I would never get the only person I truly love and care about. Again, feeling the horrible lump in my throat, I went upstairs to John's old room. Everything stayed just as he left it when he moved back to the suburban with Mary.

His jumpers was still in the closet, on his nightstand there's a picture of him and Harry, and next to the picture was the letter I wrote him, just a few days ago, which he didn't had the chance to read.

I opened the envelope with the letter and sat on the edge of John's bed. Taking a deep breath as I read, for the hundred time, at least, the letter.

"My dear John

As sad as it is, this is my last words to you.
All those things, I wanted to say to you personally, face to face, but unfortunately, I didn't have the courage.
I'm not like you John, I don't have the courage to face emotional situations, and I'm sorry about that, because maybe, if I were, everything would turn out differently.

Never mind that.

Since the day we met I knew that you would change my life; I didn't know how, and why, but I was right. You changed my life, John, you changed me.

You, John Watson, you are the only reason that I'm still alive. The only reason I want to live. That makes me want to fight for my life. I had no one in my life until I had you, and it just made me see that all the other people was, as I always thought, boring and superficial, annoying and stupid. But you weren't. You are the only exception to all of my rules.

You are, the one person in the world, which I really adore, and look up to.

You are so smart, acute, brave, loyal, and my best friend in the world. You'll be my best friend until the day I die. You are the one for me, in any possible way.

Frankly, I would rather die than live without you.

I want you to know that I never really left you when I 'died'. Once every 2-3 months I came back, just to see you. I wanted to tell you so many times, I almost have told you, but I knew I couldn't, because your safety is above any sentiment in the world.

The day you tried to kill yourself was the most awful day in my life, but I owe it everything. Because that day was the day, I realized how I feel about you, and how deep those emotions are. I sat next to your hospital bed the entire time you were out, and I realized everything. It was unbelievable.

This time, I won't be able to come visit and to make sure you're OK, and this is really the hardest thing I had to do in my entire life; Saying goodbye to you, forever.

Please, take care.

John, there aren't so many ways to say it, and I want it to be the last words you'll ever remember from me.

John Watson, I love you."

The letter was stain with teardrops and most of the letters became blurry because of them.

It didn't matter really, It wasn't like anyone is going to read it any way. Despite that annoying fact, I put the letter back in the envelope and on the nightstand.

I lay down on John's bed, hugging his pillow as if it was John himself, closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, smelling John's smell. The combination of tea, shampoo, sweat and something you can only describe as John. This is the smell of home, of friendship, of anything important. It was all John.

It was 3 am when the phone waked me up and I woke up from that wonderful dream about John. Waking up in his bed, surrender by his smell, I was sure I was still dreaming until I opened my eyes and saw that I'm all alone in that bed.

I answered the phone call more frustrated and angry that I've ever been over the last year.

"What?"

"Good evening to you too, little brother." Mycroft. What does he wants?!

"Evening? Have you seen the hour? It's almost morning."

Mycroft sighed and changed into his deadly-serious tone "Just listen, it is important"

"Is Lestrade ok?"

"Yeah yeah we are fine... Listen, well... There isn't any good way to say it..."

"Just talk already." I heard Lestrade on the background saying that there's no time to waste, and that he should do it already. I was the moment I really found myself terrified. What could have happened that is so horrible?

"John didn't get on the plane, but no one seen him anywhere, and now I checked, and Mary didn't make it to Paris. I think that I know where John is but Mary absolutely disappeared." I started to feel how every cell and nerve in my body suddenly froze with dread. I can believe this is happening. It has to be a nightmare; I had so many of those. It has to be, but it isn't.

"Are you telling me, that you forced me to give up on John and send him away for his own safety, so he can be kidnapped and god knows what by James Moriarty? Is this what you're telling me?"

Mycroft cleared his throat, "I'm sorry Sherlock"

"Send me the damn address. I'm done listening to any of your suggestions and 'solutions' until the day I die. If John is… if something happened to him because I sent him away, like you said I should, I will kill you."

"Sher-"

I hung up the phone ad ran down the stairs and into my room, changing to a suitable clothes as fast as I could, and just in time I got the address for where John possibly is.

It was a place just outside of London, about a hour and a half drive.

John. The only thing that important is that I'll get to John in time. For once and for all, I'm going to kill Moriarty with my own hands.

No one is hurting my John.