Finally Happy

Okay, I KNOW, I HAVE been a COMPLETE BEACHY PERSON ALL THIS TIME after you peeps gave me those awesome reviews.. and I'm sorry. Really. Very. Sorry. Its just tha I had a whole lot of things going on, and with no new inspiration… well.. it was very hard. So here it is- the final chapter of this johnlock fic. Fluffy, you can say. One more thing. *whips out twin blades and points them at review button* say it. out loud, review. Say it (got the reference?!) (no?.. well, okay… got it now?!)

Review button: People, do you REALLY think that this insane, abnormal crazy and dysfunctional girl owns sherlock? Her own heart is heartbroken, she can't break us, can she?

Me: oh, so I can't, right? *grins jeff grin* reeaaalllyyyy review? I can't? welllll, pop goes the weasel…

Review : *gulps* well people, r r read o o onn…. *moves back*

_IreneAshlynn

Chapter three: Finally Happy

Sherlock POV

My mind never stopped. Never. But the minute I saw john pick up the pistol and flick its safety off, it did. My heart skipped a bit. No. no. this could not happen. "STOP, JOHN! DON'T YOU DARE MAKE ONE MOVEMENT. SEAR IT ON ME!" I screamed, my mind finally starting and I sprang forward, knocking the pistol out of his hands. John was shocked and because of this, we both fell on top of each other. He looked up, and I heard a sudden gasp of surprise escape from his lips. His eyes were wide with shock, and his face seemed like a screen through which a thousand emotions were passing. Fear. Shock. Surprise. Alarm. Disbelief. Dazedness. And the last of all, anger. The astonishment and utter disbelief in his wide eyes crumbled in the face of fiery hot anger, and his jaw ground out, eyes narrowed, he punched me hard. The force was hard enough to make me fall back on the ground beside him, bewildered for the first time in my life.

"Sherlock Holmes, do you think of me as a puppet? A game control to be manipulated according to your wishes? Am I NOT a human being? Are you not one too? oh, who am I asking? You think no one cares for you, that you were born to be alone and will do as you please, not once caring what others think. Fine, I know that you are the smartest devil on earth. Your deductions are NEVER wrong. But you know what, Sherlock? One of your deductions is wrong. Very wrong, actually. You assume, no, you KNOW no one gives a dead rats ass for you. But you are, infact WRONG. If people didn't care for you, would Mycroft be moping right now? Would Mrs. Hudson be sobbing? Would Ophelia be screaming in anger and hurt, would the irregulars be crying right now? Would not Greg have thrown a party at your going? Tell me, the way you have treated Mycroft and Greg, you'd expect them to dance around in happiness singing Hallelujah now. Ophelia and the irregulars would be moving on with their lives. With the rackets you create at home, I think Mrs. Hudson should be throwing parties instead of funerals after your death. Tell me what you think, Sherlock WRONG Holmes?" John asked, breathing heavily at the end of his rant.

I was shocked, to say the least. And utterly flabbergasted, but I managed to say, " Mycroft is my brother, he HAS to keep such relations and so he'll be fine. Greg needs me for solving cases. We pay Mrs. Hudson rent. Ophelia's family, and the irregulars are her friends. Like Mycroft, they'll be fine" I said emotionlessly. John looked broken. "And what about me, Sherlock? Do I not mean anything to you? Just a tool to use perhaps, I suppose." Those words, and the face that accompanied them, completely and utterly broke my non-existent heart. I scrambled forward, stumbling like a newborn child trying to walk and said, "No John, you are not just a tool. You are my friend, the only friend I've ever had. You've stood by me always, not caring for the world and its opinions on me. You are my blogger. And what would a detective be without his blogger?"

John's eyes shone with unshed tears and newfound hope. "Then why, Sherlock? Why do you do such things?" "Because I have never loved, much less hoped to be reciprocated in this emotion." It is entirely new and unrecognizable for me. John's eyes widened at this new confession. I continued, "I had to fake my death to fool Moriarty. And I had to leave to kill his fellow mates."

"You mean you do.. l.. . ?"John asked, eyes widened. I smiled. "yes, my blogger. I do." Nothing more was to be said. Things that were said were not said by words, but by our hearts and our touches. I stepped forward and kissed him, wrapping my arms around him. If love was a dangerous chemical reaction of various pheromones and hormones in our body and brsain which led us to believing in our affection for someone, I'd say that as far as dangerous reactions go, this one was the best and the worst. A complete oxymoron and paradox.

John POV

If people were figures of speech, I'd be a simile and Sherlock would be a paradox and our love would be irony.

Well, howwie wasie it? ya like? If you do/don't revie's (review button's new nickname)here to speak up

Revie: i… I … l..oo….love you… *looks at me* *I glare and prod him with an iron poker* OW! Yes, yes I love you so please kill me, i..i.. press me! And write! Write please!

Well, folks, ya heard him. *blows air on fingernails* do it. click on revie, he loves YOU!

-IreneAshlynn (if you're wondering, its not my real name, I'm Indian) toddles then! Until next time!
_