Edit 7/18: Thank you Sue for pointing out the tense mistake.
Back up plans were done for. I don't think I could sit through a movie or compose myself for dinner. Going back downstairs to get my belongings so I could skip town was a no-go even if I possessed the will to live.
It was afternoon in spring and comfortable outside. In fact, the weather was lovely. It was so lovely that it succeeded in distracting me for a little while as I found myself staring off into the light grey distance. I think the weather was just to show off to people like me how little the world cared about any life-altering sadness I could be feeling by being as nice as possible.
I was angry. At myself. So irrational. So stupid! Getting myself caught up in this messy, hormonal relationship doomed from the start was entirely idiotic and frankly embarrassing. This should have been a productive year for me, for research and continuing to grow in deduction. Instead, instead I've been wasting it on fruitless activities with John Watson.
Honestly, though, what did I ultimately expect? That we would live happily ever after and go off into the sunset and that's it? That my first real friendship and relationship with someone would be so perfect that nothing could break it?
I was crying then, I'll admit. Emotions have never been my strong suit and yet there I was on the bloody roof again crying into a nice, if partially cloudy, day. Pathetic. Absolutely, incredibly pathetic –
"Sherlock? What's wrong?"
Oh, John. He found me – of course. He knows all of my spots. He walked around and sat next to me leaning against some metal wall facing the edge of the building. Our sides touched and I hiccupped into a sob, attempting to control my emotions. John's arms, damn him, wrapped around me, and my body, damn it, leaned into and clutched at him. John Watson was the only person I wanted to comfort me when I was upset about John Watson. Damn him.
A few moments passed in silence and hiccups until John spoke.
"Are you okay?"
"Does it bloody look like I'm okay," I mumbled, then rolled my eyes to his jacket. This was not the time for my impertinent sarcasm to break through uncontrolled. Not to John.
"No, no you don't. What have you been thinking about all day? Did someone visit or did you go out…?"
Should I tell him everything? It was all so… embarrassing and childish in my opinion. But John was John, and that means John was kind and would want to know. If I didn't tell him, he'd get it out of me eventually, and since this situation and realizations could hardly get much worse I decided to open my mouth. The problem was trying to close it once I gave it the go-ahead.
"I've been thinking about you, John," I said. "More specifically, us. Us and, oh for god's sake, us and.. sex. The next stage in our relationship and all that."
John was quiet for a moment, then: "Oh."
"Yes, oh. Oh to the fact that it probably isn't a thing that is going to happen and that you don't want, especially with me and how it's absolutely ridiculous how I've been worrying and preparing for it and it's not even a thing to worry about and it's holiday and I planned out for a good day but -"
"Sherlock, I -"
"But then you went out and you've been going out and socializing with normal people without my knowledge -"
"Hey, that's you ignoring me when I speak and you're thinking -"
"This relationship obviously isn't going to last, John. That's the all of it – we have separate dreams and socio-economic classes and you're… You're perfect and like sunshine and people like you and you're kind enough to talk to me and be my friend but I know there are better people for you – god anyone would be better and realize you're worth a million of a freak like me -"
"Hey! That's enough!" John shook me and tilted my body away to look at me, but I felt the loss of his warmth even in the nice weather air. "Where are you getting these ideas from?"
"I -" I shuttered a breath.
"No, shh. That's the problem. You've been thinking too much. Okay, so when you were talking you said, god, you talked about twenty different things about us. Most importantly, Sherlock, and you listen to me on this. You are not a freak. You are intelligent, more intelligent than anyone in this bloody school, but they're just too stupid to understand what a wonderful, brilliant mind you have. Disregarding any lapses in social convention you have," he said, trying to lighten the mood.
He lights up the setting sun with his compliments, lights up my chest and makes it warm enough to stop trembling. I don't deserve him. Pushing aside a weak (but sincere) smile. "The rest of it -"
"The rest of it sounds like rushed, one-sided panic thinking that happens when someone is insecure in a relationship – Sherlock, love, start at the beginning so we can make some sense of it all."
I told him everything. It was hard to hold back. John was still sitting here, still listening to me blabber on and on. My trembling ceased completely and I was able to breathe regularly again, no longer burdened with snot or tears. Leaning against John and the low wall behind us, my eyes tracked the sparse clouds and the slowly changing sky. I told him about the day, how it was supposed to go and how it actually went. He insisted on looking at my elbow to make sure there was no lasting damage, and I let him.
I told him the turns my thoughts took me and how everything felt really just helpless and awful all at once then he showed up and I fled.
"…and it's all so ridiculous because I'm acting like a teen in a rom-com which is stupid. It's like all of my actions are coming from somewhere else, like they aren't even mine to begin with and I'm being intentionally dramatic somehow. I feel ridiculous and it's making me feel sick."
"Sher," he said quietly after I had finished. "Let's go downstairs so we can talk about this, okay?" He kissed my head where it rested on his chest, causing a rare blush to cover my neck.
BREAKBREAKBREAKBREAKBREAKBREAKBREAKBREAKBREAKBREAK
I settled down on my bed, scooting back on the messy sheets until my back was resting against the wall, feet tucked up and arms around my legs. John flipped on the electric kettle sitting on the floor and prepared some tea for us.
I love his tea. It's perfect.
A quick few minutes later, he was sitting close to me in the middle of the bed, facing the wall and me on my right hand side.
"Sherlock, I really, really like you." He sighed. "I don't really enjoy talking about this sort of stuff, but yeah. I want to be with you, and god that sounds like a rom-com line but it's true. I have wanted it since before I kissed you last year and I haven't changed my mind. Why would you think I didn't want to be with you?"
"You've been going out more often. It's like you're almost distant. Pulling away." I took a sip of his tea. It warmed me.
"Sherlock you can possibly expect me to stay with you constantly, can you?" he said kindly. "I love spending time with you, but I do know other people and I have managed to make a few friends here." He paused and said, almost reluctantly, "I think that some of this is your fault. Don't take that the wrong way! Please, don't, but you've been doing that deep thinking thing more and more often lately and it can get kinda lonely in here when you do that, so I go out. And I've been studying in the library and making up a few lab hours recently. Sherlock, I haven't been trying to abandon you or anything, I usually tell you I'm heading out or where I'm going, you just don't hear me, I guess."
This was turning into more and more of a mess and an embarrassment on my part. I still felt like I was taking it too seriously for our situation – I should be disconnected enough to realize it's just another stage in my life that will pass eventually, yet why is it that when I think about a happy future I can only see John with me?
"I'm sorry," I said, and I meant it. "I had no idea those thing were related. Perhaps I need to work on my timing and duration of visits to my mind to coincide more regularly with schedules. And I should build in a safeguard when you need to get my attention, perhaps a word or phrase or -"
"That sound great, Sher, but we're losing the conversation a bit now. What is it that has you so worried about – about us and this relationship?" John took my empty cup and placed it down with his on the bedside table and turned to join me against the wall. He took my hand and I interlaced out fingers, staring at them for a moment.
"Well, I mean, you can't possibly want to stay with me forever, can you? Relationships are so senseless. They just end and people expect another and another then they die. What's the point of them! We're going to graduate and go separate ways and you'll be a doctor and I'll be whatever but the circumstances we're in won't be replicated outside of this school unless we move in together -"
John silenced me with a kiss. "Is that what you want?"
"What?" I asked. His face was so close to mine, searching my eyes as I searched his.
"Do you want to… to just break up?" His voice cracked. "To end it because you think it'll end anyway just to – to get it over with because that would be… logical?"
His eyes were tearing up now and my tea-warmed heart hurt at the sight. Before I could say anything he kissed me again.
"Because, Sherlock," he breathed. "Because I don't want that. I choose door number two, you git, I choose a longer time with you if that's what you want. I choose a life of ridiculous cases about clowns and cats, of running after you and protecting you so you don't end up in the hospital again. Of your beautiful face and curls and your long neck to kiss. Of surprising Christmases and absolute insanity and beautiful violin pieces at two am and everything else and more. I've thought about what to do after we graduate, Sherlock, and I can't imagine anything more brilliant than moving in with you."
I stared at him. So this is what shock felt like. I stared at my John and I stared at the words coming out of his mouth and every bad thing I've been feeling all day went away and I just stared. He looked hopeful but scared all at once and I didn't like that at all so I kissed him instead of saying anything.
"So?" He asked.
"Oh, god, yes," I replied.
He gave the most brilliant smile and blinked away the moisture in his eyes before leaning back and putting his lips on mine once more. He scattered kisses, my chin, my cheek, my eyebrow, my forehead, and tangled his right hand in my hair. It was then that I realized our hands were still connected by our sides. Still clutching at each other, afraid to let go.
So this is what love feels like.