Chapter 9: What?
Notes:
This chapter is also un-betad :).
Please, tell me the spelling, grammar mistakes in this story because English is not my native language :).
Enjoy :).
John looked at the manhandled body of his best friend, it was the fall all over again. Loneliness, defeat, his will to live, it all came back.
Defeated he fell on his knees, desperate whine escaped his throat, this wasn't real. "Sherlock" he whispered.
He looked at the body of his best friend, the person he loved most, the person he killed for.
Sherlock was death, and it was his fault. Why did he leave baker street? He left Sherlock and now the killer took him away before he could make it up.
Lestrade tried to get him up again. "John, c'mon you can't stay here."
"No" he whispered "Please no."
In a trance he followed Lestrade who took him by the hand, led him outside the museum and into his car.
Mindless he looked outside the window.
Sherlock was dead.
Sherlock was dead.
Sherlock was dead.
SHERLOCK WAS DEAD.
Tears rolled over his cheeks. How did this happen? Why was Sherlock there? What was he doing there?
Sherock…
Lestrade lay his hand softly on Johns' arm. They were back at Baker Street.
"We are here, let's go inside John."
His voice trembled. "I can't. I left him there Lestrade."
He swallowed and rested his head on his hands. "I left him, and now he's dead."
Lestrade stepped out of the car, walked to John's side and opened the door.
"Let's go inside John. I'll make you some tea and…"
John's head snapped up, a rage of anger flooded through him. "I don't want your bloody tea! Sherlock is dead and the only thing you can think about is stupid tea!"
Lestrade's face went serious. "You are a mess John, let's go inside."
"Can you guys stop shouting? It disturbs my thinking."
John and Lestrade glanced in an almost comical way at the front door of 221B, a very annoyed and very alive Sherlock Holmes was looking like them.
"You bastard." John shouted when he jumped out of the car and almost ran to Sherlock. "You stupid, horrible bastard!"
Sherlock opened his mouth and closed it again, for the first time in his life the great detective was speechless.
John's fist came into contact with his perfect cheekbones. "You… horrible… git!"
John became angrier by the astonished look on Sherlock's face. "Is this another weird experiment, it must be a joke for you right. The let's see how we many times we can mess John up joke!"
Sherlock's face stayed serious. "About what are you talking John?" He looked at Lestrade who was staring at him like he had seen a ghost.
"We have seen you dead Sherlock. Your legs were removed from your body and there were cuts in your throat."
"Let me see the body." The detective answered.
John glared at Sherlock. "You mean… you didn't know?"
Sherlock let out an annoyed sigh. "No off course I didn't. I'm good in deducing John, I can't read your mind to see what happened. Yes I know you were angry, confused and shocked. You had seen something horrible."
John pulled the detective close, he felt Sherlock stiffen in his embrace. "I thought I lost you." He muttered in Sherlock's ear.
"I thought you died before I could say for the second time that I really love you Sherlock Holmes."
Sherlock relaxed in his embrace. John's eyes met the beautiful eyes of Sherlock. Those eyes that looked like a storm at sea. Puddles of ocean grey.
He brought his face closer to that of the detectives', and their lips met each other. John closed his eyes and invaded Sherlock's mouth.
Slowly they explored each other's, first slowly, very fragile, very new.
When they departed from their kiss, he opened his eyes to see that Sherlock's' were still closed.
Carefully he stroked his hand through Sherlock's curls.
"Let's go to see the body, I'm interested to know who he is."
Sherlock opened his eyes and smiled, it was one of those smiles that he only saved for John. "A body that looks like mine, very interesting indeed."