Hey guys! Thank you for the reviews, this chapter is dedicated to Auttzthoughtz and RedRozalLove, hope you enjoy it!
John sat back down on the couch. His leg was paining him. He kept his mind off of the reason. Never had he felt so nervous, so worried. He sighed as he laid down on the couch. Part of him now felt exhausted, not felt like he could sleep. He glanced at his phone before allowing his mind to shut down and his eyes closed.
Sherlock let himself fall into the bed of the hotel room. It was over. No more Jim, no more games… a part of him was sad. He would never get another distraction as much stimulating as Jim's games were… but he had John. And no one would ever get his doctor away from him again.
Game over, love –SH
John didn't hear his phone vibrate or see the text. He was already asleep, curled up on the couch. A hand rested on the pillow, Sherlock's name was his lips.
Sherlock waited five minutes before panicking. Why didn't John answer? Had Moriarty arrived before he could kill him? Getting up in a flash, he burst into Mycroft's room. "John doesn't answer", he said, gripping his phone. His brother simply rolled his eyes.
"It's late. He might be asleep, Sherlock". Well, yes, that sounded logical.
"But he aslways answer", he whispered.
"Sleep, Sherlock. We will return to London tomo…."
"No", Sherlock cut him mid-sentence. "I have to return now"
John turned over in his sleep, hugging the pillow to him. He curled up tighter on the couch, gripping the pillow to him as if it was the very man he loved. Deep in his mind, he knew he needed him, he knew he loved him. He wouldn't have anyone else.
Sherlock was pacing up and down the plane two hours later. John hadn't answered yet. Was he asleep, like Mycroft said? Asleep or…. He didn't even want to think about it. When the green light lit up and he sat down again, he looked outside the window as the plane came down.
He turned again on the couch, his hand sliding out from underneath him. He knocked his phone to the floor without notice. His hand was barley touching the floor as he muttered Sherlock's name in his sleep.
"Take my luggage", Sherlock said to Mycroft in the airport before heading to the exist. He couldn't think clearly now. The possibilities were disturbing: John dead, John kidnapped, John hurt…. John sleeping. Sherlock concentrated in that one as he called a taxi.
"221B Baker Street".
John moved in his sleep again, mouth gaped open in a snore. He rolled back onto the couch, gripping the half fallen pillow to him tightly. He buried his face into it, smelling Sherlock. His body relaxed, he felt comforted as if the man was there.
Sherlock burst into 221, almost breaking the door. He climbed up the stairs as fast as he could and forced the door open, looking everywhere for John. "JOHN!", he shouted into the dark room. Dam, he couldn't see…
John sat up on the couch, fear clutching his beating heart. He stood up, nearly stumbling over the table. "Whose...what...whose...?" he whispered. He went to reach for the gun he kept at his side until he remembered Lestrade still had it. It was dark, but early in the morning. He saw Sherlock standing over him, anger and worry etched on his face. "Sherlock," he breathed, stumbling to the man.
Sherlock didn't even reply. He lunged forward, wrapping both his arms around John like his life depended on it. He was trembling, a mixture of emotions running through his body: fear, confusion, relieve, love… "John", he said in a weak voice. "John"
John placed his face in the crook of Sherlock's neck. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock, holding him close. "Sherlock," he breathed over and over again, "You're alive. You're home..." He forgot about the pain in his leg, the stress his body felt. He had a headache, but that didn't matter. Sherlock was home.
"Well, of course I am! Why didn't you text me back?", he said, trying to calm down his breathing. He was so mad at John, but he couldn't step away from him. "I was so afraid, John. Moriarty said that his people were controlling you, and you didn't answer, and…", he was rambling now.
John gripped Sherlock's face in his hands, pulling them away so he could study the other's eyes. "I'm sorry," he choked out, "I'm so sorry. I-I manage to fall asleep...And-and I mustn't had heard my phone go off..." Tears sparked his eyes but he kissed Sherlock's lips despite them. "I'm so sorry.."
Sherlock kissed John back, slight sobs coming from him. "I love you so much. I thought-thought I had lost you…", he rambled between kisses, holding John to him so hard that he doubted the doctor could breath.
John wrapped his arms around Sherlock. "You know what I suffered through then," he whispered, "I thought I had lost you. I know-know you can take care of yourself. But Moriarty...he's...he's crafty." Tears ran down his face as he held him close. "I love you so much."
Sherlock's breathing had started to recover. He felt so relieved now, like someone had lifted the weight from his shoulders. "It's over, John. I beat him. It's over", he kept repeating like a mantra. He draw back slightly, staring down into John's eyes with his own watering ones.
John kissed Sherlock deeply, tears running down his face. "How?" he choked out.
Sherlock told him everything from the beginning in whispers. When he arrived to the last part, he squeezed John tightly. "I was supposed to return tomorrow, but when you didn't answer… I couldn't wait"
John realized the pain he caused. He swallowed hard, holding Sherlock to him. "I'm sorry for worrying you... I'm so sorry," he whispered in the other's ear, "You shouldn't have had to worry.." He reached up to stroke the other's hair. He ignored everything that he said, he didn't need to think about it now.
"I always worry about you", Sherlock confessed, leaning into John's hand. "You'll have to make it up for me, I guess", he said in a teasing tone, kissing his neck.
John shivered at Sherlock's kiss. He realized he had a headache, but it didn't matter. Sherlock was back. He slowly moved them to the couch, having Sherlock lay on top of him. "One day," he promised with a smile.
Sherlock balanced himself on his arms so he wouldn't crash John. He ran his fingers over John sandy hair, lowering himself down to kiss him sweetly on his lips. "One day", he repeated. "You want to sleep", he quickly observed.
"No," he growled, wrapping his arms around Sherlock tightly, "I want to relax with you. To prove to myself you are real and not my imagination again." He pulled Sherlock to him tightly, kissing his lips gently.
Sherlock smiled at him. "Bedroom, then. It's much more comfortable than the sofa", he said innocently. When he realized how it sounded, he blushed slightly. "I didn't mean… I just want to lay down with you".
John blushed at Sherlock's offer. "Right," he said, slowly sitting them up, "You're right. Much more comfortable then the sofa." He smiled, kissing the other's lips. "You look like you need to rest as well. You didn't sleep after it was over? You were too worried." He felt deep guilt. He had cause this pain.
"The flight was during the night. And stop worrying, John, it's over now", he said as he followed John to his bedroom. He took his coat off and fell on the bed, not even bothering to change into the pajamas. "Come here", he offered, patting the empty bed next to him.
John sat beside Sherlock, leaning into him. He was exhausted enough to sleep through the day. "I can't stop worrying. That's asking me to stop loving you," he teased with a smile.
Sherlock blushed slightly, wrapping his arms around John. "I don't want you to", he whispered, slipping his hand under his shirt, feeling his warm skin. "We should sleep"
John was shocked when he felt Sherlock's cold fingers against his warm skin. He relaxed after a second, a smile on his face. "We should..." he agreed with blush on his cheeks.
Sherlock smiled, leaning down to kiss John's cheek. "Good night, then", he said, smirking. He closed his eyes, waiting. He didn't want to force John into anything, they were both exhausted… but he let the decision to John.
John wrapped his own arms around Sherlock, laying them back onto the bed. He covered them up, cuddling up to the young man. They were both exhausted, yet they wanted to do so much more. It could wait until they had some energy. He kissed Sherlock's lips with hunger, lust, and love before pulling away to rest his head on Sherlock's chest. "I love you," he purred softly.
"I love you too", Sherlock whispered, smiling. His always responsive doctor had chosen sleep before pleasure, but Sherlock wasn't going to complain. Sleeping next to John was good enough for him. In less than five minutes, they were both asleep.
John smiled in his sleep, listening to Sherlock's heartbeat. He was alive. He was real. Things would be okay now, things would go back to normal.