A/N: Ayno23 – Aw I'm sorry if it seemed rushed and you wanted it to happen a bit slower. I was thinking that as I was writing it, honestly, but I couldn't think of how else to slow it down. I might go back to that chapter some time and find a way to slow it down if I feel inspired. I'm glad you liked the rest of the chapter though!

Chapter Eight: Not Leaving You

.o.o.

.o.

That we won't run, and we won't run, and we won't run.

And in the winter night sky ships are sailing,

Looking down on these bright blue city lights.

And they won't wait, and they won't wait, and they won't wait.

We're here to stay, we're here to stay, we're here to stay.

Howling ghosts they reappear

In mountains that are stacked with fear

But you're a king and I'm a lionheart.

A lionheart.

Of Monsters and Men – King and Lionheart

.o.o.

.o.

John smiled when he glanced over at Sherlock, who was currently looking slightly perplexed. His smile faded and worry creased his eyebrows.

"Sherlock? What's wrong?"

It took the consulting detective several moments to realize that his companion had asked him something. "Hm? Oh. Nothing."

John looked skeptically at him and sighed, getting up from his armchair to sit down on the coffee table in front of where Sherlock was laying. He reached out almost tentatively for Sherlock's hand and felt a warmth run through him when he let John hold it; their first affectionate touch as lovers and companions. He gently caressed Sherlock's smooth skin and long fingers. "Do you honestly think that I can't tell when you lie after living with you for so long? Come on. Let me in, Sherlock…"

He didn't look at John but let his fingers dance with John's affectionately back. "Tell me that you're not here with me because you feel bad for my loneliness, John. I want the truth, but tell me that you're here because you feel the same affections for me as I do you."

John was surprised at the almost pleading tone in Sherlock's voice. He hardly ever begged like this. He leaned forward slightly. "Sherlock, look at me," he ordered gently, and then continued when Sherlock turned his head to look at him. "I love you, you mad bastard. I'm not here out of pity. I'm here with you out of love and I was too thick to see what was right in front of me. You mean the world to me."

His friend didn't look entirely convinced but he nodded. He searched John's brown eyes before he suddenly leaned in and pressed his lips against the doctor's, wrapping his hand around the back of his head in his passion. John kissed him back, tasting the desperation and fear in the kiss Sherlock had started. He reluctantly pulled away. Sherlock sat up and he looked down at his hands unsurely.

"I-I'm sorry, John. I'm not… sure what came over me."

John Watson wasn't sure what he had expected Sherlock to act like in a relationship but apologetic, desperate and scared weren't any of the reactions he had anticipated. He took both of Sherlock's hands in his own and forced him to meet his eyes again. "You're scared. You're scared that you're going to lose me like how you feel like you lost me the first time, to someone else, and that's normal. It's normal to feel like that. It's… human. You're not a machine. I know you're not. You hurt like everyone else, even if you deny it."

Sherlock shook his head, fear written on his face. "I t-thought that I wanted this. I thought I could do a… a relationship with you but now… I-I'm not quite so certain. I lack a certain ability..."

John shook his head in protest. "No, no… I know that's not true. Do you love me, Sherlock?"

The detective sighed and tried to make a dismissal wave but at the last minute seemed to remember that his fingers were still interlocked with John's. "Love is… a dangerous disadvantage and… sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side, John."

John shook his head more firmly this time. "No, stop feeding me Mycroft's words. You might have said them at one point but I know you don't feel like that. Tell me, Sherlock; do you love me?"

Sherlock was quiet for what felt like ages but he finally nodded resignedly. "Yes, John. I do. I do love you."

John felt his heart swell and he smiled softly. "Good, then, because nothing you say is going to convince me otherwise. I remember when you first told me your feelings for me that one day and… I wanted to tell you the same, I really did. I suppose it was all about timing, though. Maybe… if I had felt for you at the time the same way you felt for me, then things would've been different."

Sherlock finally forced himself to look at him. "What changed your mind? What made you love me?"

John blushed slightly and he cleared his throat. "Well, err… I suppose seeing you all protective about me certainly helped. I've… always felt something towards you after doing all these cases with you, Sherlock. I may have tried to push it down when it was inconvenient for me but obviously there's no more hiding it. I care about you more than I've cared about anyone and I know that you feel the same way about me."

Sherlock nodded confidently and relaxed a bit. "I'm... really glad I have you in my life, John. You're everything to me. I'm not very good with these sorts of things but I'm going to try to be the best person I can be for you. You… bring out the best in me."

The doctor's smile grew brighter and his smile reached his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this happy. John leaned in and gently rested his forehead against Sherlock's, occasionally nuzzling his cheek against his companion's. Sherlock let out a deep throated chuckle as he smiled contently as well.

"God, this feels so… so right," Sherlock confessed.

John closed his eyes as he felt Sherlock's breath so close to him. It did feel right, there was no denying that. This felt the most right things felt in such a long time. He lifted his hand up and placed it on Sherlock's jawline, gently thumbing his soft skin there.

Sherlock let out an involuntary moan as the doctor's hand then moved down towards his shoulders and then chest, moving downward. He pulled the doctor on his lap and placed both hands on John's face before he started to passionately kiss him, letting their tongues dance over each other elegantly in a waltz only he could create.

It wasn't long before both their shirts came off along with their trousers and they were both laying on the couch in just their boxers. Sherlock and John both felt sweat beating their skin as they made out with as much passion as they possessed.

Finally, John leaned away, breathless. "S-Should we take this into the bedroom, then?"

Sherlock smirked slightly and then nodded before he stood up and grabbed John's arm to pull him up. As John was making his way towards Sherlock's room, Sherlock leaned over and smacked the doctor's ass gently before he laughed another deep, throaty chuckle as the two men disappeared into the room.

They emerged from the bathroom about two hours later, already washed up with wet hair that matted their foreheads and clean bodies that left no evidence of what took place earlier. Sherlock tied the scarlet red gown that was now draped over his shoulders and looked over at John had sat down in his armchair, grabbing the newspaper.

"Would you like some tea?"

John glanced over at him from his place and smiled, feeling like they were already married. Everything about this felt so natural. "That'd be great. Thanks, Sherlock…"

Sherlock turned on the fire underneath the kettle and took out two cups before he dropped teabags into both just as his phone chimed. He ignored it, afraid that if he looked at it, then this moment with the man he loved would be over forever.

John looked over at the coffee table as Sherlock's phone chimed a second time. He looked over at Sherlock questioningly. "Would you like me to get it for you?"

The detective gave an apathetic wave before actually shaking his head. He wet his lips before he placed his hands on either side of the tea cups on the counter and leaned down, balancing his weight with his shoulders. He nearly cringed when it chimed a third time.

"Oh for God's sake!" he cried out in frustration before he finally walked over to his phone and went through it.

"Sherlock," John spoke, almost in a warning voice.

"My apologies, John," the detective remarked, but obviously didn't seem very sorry at all.

Three Unread Messages from Mycroft Holmes:

We need to talk, dear brother. – MH

It's rather urgent, if you don't mind. – MH

I'm at Baker Street. I'm coming up. – MH

"Damn it…" Sherlock groaned before he walked over to the flat door and opened the door to see a rather bored looking Mycroft standing before him.

"Did you honestly believe I wouldn't hear about the schoolyard brawl you had as well as the incidence that occurred here with that same man?" Mycroft drawled before he walked inside.

John stood up and walked into the kitchen to tidy up so the brothers could have some resemblance of privacy.

Sherlock watched John do this and then looked over at his brother. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about, Mycroft."

His older brother walked further in and sat down where John had been sitting. Sherlock just remembered the tea but when he looked over, he saw John turning the burner off and pouring three cups inside of two. He looked back at Mycroft with impatience in his eyes, waiting for an answer.

"It won't do you justice to deny anything, dear brother mine. I am all too aware of your goings-on nowadays, Sherlock. Tell me, what was your petty fight over? Please do tell me it was worth the damage done to your face and he's not pressing charges against you…"

Sherlock sighed and shook his head. "I assure you it was well worth it, and I believe it'd difficult to press charges against someone when you're locked up inside of a mental hospital," he replied, perhaps a bit too smugly. "Anyway, shouldn't you know all this? I thought you had your fingers in all the pies of the country?"

Mycroft smirked before taking the tea John had walked over to them to offer the brothers. "Thank you, John," he looked over at Sherlock just as he smiled softly at John and winked at him. His brother eyed Sherlock warily now before his eyes widened and his mouth opened in almost disbelief. "What was that?"

The detective cocked his head slightly to the side. "What was what?"

Mycroft cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable before he tried to fix his demeanor. "Nevermind. It isn't important in the least. Just tell me this so I can be on my way. Who was this man to you? Do you require my assistance, Sherlock?"

"No, Mycroft," Sherlock took a sip of his tea as he watched John walk back out into the kitchen. "As much as it displeases you to hear, I don't constantly require you to help solve all my problems. This man was a friend of John's who… merely rubbed me the wrong way and I lost my temper. He came in here the other day and he became violent, threatening both of us. I believe he had some type of breakdown and he was inconsolable. I had to call Lestrade. I was fearing for both of our lives, Mycroft. That's the whole of it."

Mycroft nodded in understanding and then took a sip of the tea before he placed it back on the plate. "As long as this doesn't affect me. I do not wish for this incident to come back and hurt either of us, dear brother."

Sherlock rolled his eyes tapped his fingers on the arm of his own chair. "It won't. Is that all you came here for? Because you were worried about your reputation? I assure you that it'll remain firmly intact."

John sipped his tea from the kitchen, pretending to scrub at a stubborn stain on the counter as he unintentionally eavesdropped on the brothers' conversation.

"I came here because… God help me, I worry about you. With your history of substance abuse, it would be irresponsible of me not to check up on you every now and then, would it not?" he drawled coldly.

Sherlock shifted in his seat somewhat uncomfortably now. He took a long sip of his tea before glancing at John in the kitchen. He refocused his eyes back to his brother. "I suppose it would be irresponsible. Anyway, you may leave now. I'm not using."

"Would a urine test prove that, Sherlock?"

"Yes," he replied instantly, not missing a beat. "It would, but unfortunately for you, I'm not taking one and you're wasting your time even asking. It's been lovely but goodbye, Mycroft."

Mycroft sighed but set his tea down before he stood up and walked towards the door. He had opened it when he finally turned back to look at Sherlock. "I try not to pry when it comes to you so all I'm going to say is I'm grateful for whatever or… whomever, is keeping you clean. Goodbye, Sherlock."

John waited until Mycroft closed the door behind him when he walked out into the living room and sat back down in his armchair, looking at an unsettled Sherlock. He was quiet for several moments before he cleared his throat.

"So… you think he knows then?"

Sherlock looked up from his position in his chair. "Knows… about us?" When John nodded once, Sherlock half shrugged. "I think he suspects. Either way, it's not my problem. Would it bother you if he knew about the two of us, John?"

The doctor thought for a bit, wondering if it would bother him if Mycroft knew. Nothing bad would come from it, certainly. Mycroft Holmes couldn't stop it from happening, and even if he had that power, he probably wouldn't make attempts to stop their relationship. After all, he just wanted his younger brother to be clean and happy, or at least, as happy as Sherlock Holmes could be.

"No, you know what? I don't think it would bother me, actually. Would it bother you if he knew? I mean, he might think differently about you."

Sherlock smiled slyly before he took another sip of his tea. "Not particularly. I believe if he knew we were together, in a relationship, he might be less prone to pestering me about taking care of myself. He might be a bit more at ease. If it's all the same to you though, I would prefer he didn't know about us until it's absolutely necessary."

John furrowed his brows in slight confusion but he nodded. "Are you… afraid of him… judging you for what you are? Well, me too, obviously but… you know what I mean. He's… the same way, you know, right?"

Sherlock looked thoughtful, but uncomfortable again. "I know. I'm aware of his sexuality, as… well as ours. I don't think he'd judge me. I think he'd just be... surprised. It's complicated to explain, John, but I'm just not ready for him to know about us quite yet."

John cleared his throat and bit his lip before he looked away, having a difficult time containing his feelings. "Right… sure. Sherlock? Are you ashamed of us? Are you ashamed of me?"

He shook his head. "No, of course I'm not ashamed of you, John. I… could never be ashamed of a man as brilliant as you. I just don't see why my brother has to be aware of our private life is all."

"Our private life? Sherlock, we're not going to tell him we bloody had sex! We'd just tell him we're in a relationship!"

Sherlock shifted again in his seat and set his tea down upon seeing John's anger. "Why? Why's it so vital to you that my brother knows about us? It's not going to change anything between the three of us!"

"Exactly!" John exclaimed. "It's not going to change anything, so why don't you want to tell him? If he knew the exact reason why you were protecting me, he might be less suspicious about you and he wouldn't feel the need for his random visits. I just thought you'd enjoy seeing less of him!"

Sherlock stood up and sighed heavily before he turned around to look out the window, putting his hands on his hips. This was what their first spat was about. Of course it was about Mycroft. It was so typical. "Must we fight about this right now?"

John stood up too. "Oh, I'm sorry, Sherlock! Do you have somewhere better to be at the moment?"

"Stop it!" Sherlock suddenly yelled, spinning around to look at John, waving his arms in frustration. "Please, John! I don't want to fight about coming out to Mycroft! If we're going to have a domestic, I'd rather we fight about... misplaced calls or… someone leaving the coffee pot turned on for hours or… something less significant."

John rubbed the bridge of his nose and then looked back up at Sherlock, somehow feeling significantly calmer. "Just… promise me you'll tell him about us one day. That's all I'm asking, Sherlock."

The detective chuckled and sighed softly. "I promise I'll invite him to our wedding. He'll find out that way."

John looked like a young child who was pouting because his mother wouldn't let him have cookies before dinner. He massaged his hands distractedly and looked at the floor.

Sherlock smiled and laughed to himself. "Oh my god… come over here, you stubborn arsehole."

John reluctantly shuffled over to him and then looked up at him, playfully narrowing his eyes. "You're the stubborn arsehole, Sherlock. I don't know how you can do it, though."

He looked at him curiously, a smile dancing on his face as he took one hand and ran it affectionately through John's hair. "Make us stop fighting over… dumb things. I know you'll come out to him eventually. I just… wanted to make sure it wasn't because you were ashamed of us."

Sherlock moved in closer and then wrapped his slender arms around John, resting his elbows on the doctor's shoulders. "I promise it's not because I'm ashamed of us. I love you, John Watson, and nothing can change that. I just need time. Can you at least give me that?"

John nodded against his chest and breathed him in. He didn't know how Sherlock Holmes had the power to make them go from fighting to hugging in less than ten minutes. Sherlock, the man everyone called a machine. It seemed remarkable.

"I can't believe we had a spat over Mycroft, of all people," Sherlock chuckled once they separated. "Isn't it ridiculous?"

"Incredibly," John agreed, also starting to chuckle, much to his own surprise.

Sherlock couldn't stop himself from smiling as he looked at John, so he didn't even try. He wanted to reach out and embrace him again, but he swallowed the urge back. He couldn't let John distract him from work, as much as he wanted to.

He bit his lip and then walked over to the desk before he started typing on John's computer. "Right, back to work then."

"Work?" John looked at him with amusement. "What work? We haven't had a case in weeks!"

Sherlock ignored him as he opened their conjoined email and started to look furiously for a case. He needed to keep his mind busy to keep it functioning properly to aid with future cases. If he only had John in his Mind Palace and nothing else, then he'd be useless when it came down to it.

John grabbed both their mugs and took them into the kitchen to wash them out. He glanced over at Sherlock, wondering what was going on through his head, and feeling frustrated that he couldn't read his mind. They worked on their individual tasks in silence for almost an hour before John looked up at the clock and saw what time it was.

"Oh, it's nearly five. What do you want for dinner, Sherlock?"

Silence from his end, the scratching sounds of typing on the keyboard.

John scratched his temple, trying to keep his patience. "Do you want me to order takeout or do you want me to make you something?"

"Mm… yes, sounds good."

John smirked and shook his head. "I'll just make something then, I suppose."

"As you wish, John…"

The doctor started to make spaghetti, hardly believing how quickly Sherlock could go from being affectionate and loving to…well, this. He had become almost cold in his demeanor and John couldn't stop from questioning it as he made their dinner.

"Was it something I've said?" John asked from the kitchen, glancing over at his companion.

Sherlock forced his eyes away from the screen, unable to explain his dark moods to John. It hardly mattered that he was a doctor. He only saw what was physically wrong with them. "Hm? No, no. It's nothing you said, John. I promise…"

John just nodded and turned his attention back to cooking, not fully assured. Sherlock knew that John was aware of his depressed states but he felt foolish explaining that it was because he was feeling depressed that he was acting the way he was. Love, he felt came more naturally to him than confessing why he felt like he wanted to drown in the covers of his bed and sleep for four days straight. He didn't know why but Sherlock felt like he could explain why he loved John so deeply and how he wanted to live out the rest of his days out with the doctor than why he suddenly felt cold, distant, and drowning in a sorrow he couldn't even explain was there in the first place.

After he had finished with the spaghetti, he placed some on two places and set them beside each other. "Dinner, Sherlock!" he called, wanting to make sure he heard him.

The detective looked from the window to the computer screen to John in the kitchen, having lost track of time. How long had he been staring at nothing? He bit his lip unsurely and then stood up before he sighed. "Actually, put mine in the fridge. I'm not really that hungry. I'll have it tomorrow."

John saw the familiar dark storm swimming in Sherlock's eyes and nodded in realization. He gave him a small smile. "Okay… can I… get you anything? Do anything for you?"

Sherlock stopped in mid-step, taken back by the doctor's offer. "That's nice of you but… you can't help me right now." With that, he walked into his bedroom and gently closed the door before he curled into the comfort of his bed.

John Watson felt slightly hurt by the assumption. He could think of lots of things he could to try and help Sherlock. He wanted to help him right now, more than anything. He looked down at his dinner and no longer feeling hungry, he pushed it away and stood up.

John walked towards Sherlock's room and quietly slipped inside before closing the door again, knowing how much he enjoyed the darkness. He walked around to where Sherlock wasn't a lump in the bed and slipped underneath the comforters. He felt around until he realized the detective was curled up in the fetal position, his back towards him.

He put his arms around Sherlock, holding him close. John could feel Sherlock's shoulders shaking and it took him a few moments to register that the detective was crying. He felt his heart shattering in his chest, holding Sherlock closer to him.

"Y-You don't have t-to do this, J-John. I t-told you that y-you can't h-help me," he cried softly into his pillow.

John gently kissed Sherlock's bare shoulder before he lingered there. "I know, but I want to at least try. I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you, Sherlock. I'm not leaving you."