Work Text:
I am sorry, John
Once there was a time when John Watson would wake up with a smile on his face because next to him would lay the love of his life.
Once there was a time when John Watson would not dream about the war because he would lay in the arms of the love of his life.
Once there was a time when John Watson couldn’t wait to come home from work because the love of his life would wait for him.
But two years ago the love of his life died.
Sherlock Holmes jumped from the rooftop of St. Barth’s and died in front of John Watsons eyes.
John Watson now wakes up with tears in his eyes because the space next to him is empty and cold.
John Watson now has nightmares every night because no one is holding him.
John Watson now works more shifts than ever because at home the flat is empty and cold.
~~~~
John stands in front of a gravestone. Fighting against the upwelling of tears. Even after two years he couldn’t move on. Every time he thinks about Sherlock he feels a lump in his throat. His chest hurts, just like his limp.
John leans down to put the new flowers he bought on the way onto the grave.
He never stays longer than that. He just changes the flowers, whispers a quiet ‘I love you’ and turns. He can’t stand more, can’t stand the sight of Sherlocks name engraved into cold stone.
He sees a movement in the periphery of his vision, just a blur of black. Just a cat or a bird or maybe… No. A cat.
But the whole way back home, he feels like someone is following him, watching his every step.
He opens the door to 221b Baker Street, relieved to close the door behind him, hide from the world. He turns slowly. Even here, something feels wrong. The sudden realization hits him. The coat. Sherlocks coat lies on the sofa. He is sure it hung in the bedroom when he left this morning. He always kept it there to look at it. But there it is, neatly folded on the sofa.
He turns to the kitchen. His favorite mug stands on the counter steaming.
The door to his bedroom is closed. He always kept it open, like Sherlock did.
Slowly, he approaches the door. He can’t hear a sound but his loud heartbeat. He opens the door.
~~~~
A large figure lays on the bed, covered by the white sheets to contrast the dark, slightly too long curls. The body moves slowly, with every breath of the man.
“Sherlock.” John whispers. He thinks about the possibility of hallucinating, like he did shortly after ‘The Fall’. But no, he left it behind. It must be him. His Sherlock.
He emerges slowly the sleeping man, carefully, not to make a sound. The figure moves, turns his head to John and blinks. “John.” It’s more of a yawn than it is a word.
Sudden anger works up Johns throat.
“Two years, Sherlock. Two years. How dare you come here, sleep in MY bed. After two GODDAMNED years?” Johns voice is calm and dangerous. “I thought you were dead, Sherlock. I mourned. I was still mourning about YOU, Sherlock.”
Sherlock sits up, looking into Johns eyes. “John, I am sorry. That wasn’t the plan, letting you think I was dead. Let me explain. Please, John.”
John couldn’t believe he is finally hearing this voice again.
“No, Sherlock.” Oh how good it was, finally saying this name without grief. “No. Just go, okay?”
John wants to turn, but he can’t. He is drowning in relieve seeing this face again.
“I can’t, John. I have to stay here. It is the only place where I am safe and Mycroft can’t risk bringing me somewhere else. Please, John.”
“Okay, I will go.”
“You can’t, either! Moriarty would kill you!” Sherlock jumps up from his bed, worry in his eyes.
John sighs. “You know I am really angry with you right now and I would not hesitate punching you, right?” Sherlock nods. “Good. Tell me about the plan.”
John turns and walks into the living room. He sits in his chair, waiting for Sherlock to follow his lead.
Sherlock sits down in his chair opposite John and gathers his thoughts.
“John, it was not planned for you to think I am dead. But something went wrong and I wasn’t allowed to contact you afterwards. It would have been too dangerous revealing that I am still alive. There were several snipers ready to kill you, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson. I couldn’t risk it.” Sherlock closes his eyes, hands gesturing wild in a plea for John to understand. “I planted hints for you, but the bike hit you and you fell. You weren’t able to collect the clues after that. You hit your head when you fell and you were too confused. I am sorry, John. Truly sorry. After that, I had to put down Moriartys network. I thought he was dead, he shot himself into his mouth in front of my eyes. But that wasn’t him. He had a twin and he forced him to do it. I should have known. He shot himself with his left hand, but Moriarty is right handed. I was stupid. I realized it just a week ago when he told me. He is back in London. I have to kill him. And I need you. I can’t do that on my own.”
It was silent for a few minutes.
“You really wanted me to know?”
“John, of course! I love you. I never wanted you to feel... pain. I never wanted to cause you pain. You have to believe me!”
“I do. I am just angry. I love you, too.” John manages a small smile. Sherlocks face brightens and he reaches with his hands for Johns.
“Is it too soon to ask for a kiss, now?”
“No. Come here, Sherlock.”
John stands and pulls Sherlock up with him. He leans forwards, looking into Sherlocks eyes. It was like the first time they kissed; both were nervous and didn’t know what to expect.
~~~~
“Evening, gents!”
Sherlock and John broke the kiss.
From the door, Moriarty smiles mischievously. “Not going to invite me in? How rude!”
He comes in, walks to the kitchen. “Oh, tea, thank you! A little bit cold, but it will do.”
Sherlock leans to John and whispers: “Where is your gun?” “Bedroom.” Sherlock sighs.
“Moriarty. What a pleasure. How did you get in?”
“Oh, oh, someone is really curious, isn’t he, Johnny boy?”
“What do you want?” Johns fists clench at his sides.
“Oh Johnny boy, you should really control your temper, that’s not good for your blood pressure! And for what I am here, I just wanted to say hello to Sherlock. I am glad he is back! It was so boring without him. I hope you two missed me, too?”
With that he turns to the door and opens it.
“And just one thing. You will hear from me. Bye, lovebirds!” The door closes behind him with a quiet thud.
“Have you heard everything?” Sherlock speaks into his phone. “Good.”
“Mycrofts men got him. He will take care of him.”
“Okay. I… God, I hate him. I wish I had my gun here.”
“Me too. But I am sure he had some men outside to kill us as soon as we tried anything.”
“Yes, but I wouldn’t have cared. At least I am good enough to kill him before he could kill me.”
Sherlock smiles. “Yes, you are. But I am glad you didn’t. I prefer being alive. And… we are free to go out, now. If you don’t want me here, I will go.”
John hugs Sherlock. “Why would I want you to go?”
“You said I should go, before.”
“Yeah, but I was angry. I am angry. But I’m gonna kiss you now and you will ask me out for dinner and maybe I forgive you for all the trouble you caused me.”
Sherlock nods and once again their lips meet.
The kiss is sweet, full of hope about a bright future for both. Too soon they break it for air.
“Breathing is boring” John whispers into Sherlocks ear, who chuckles at that.
“Stealing my text now, are we?”
“You wanted to ask me something, Sherlock.”
Sherlock leans back. “Did I? Oh, dinner, right. Do you want to go out? I know a lovely restaurant. I once cleared the owner’s name.”
“You talk about Angelo’s?”
“Yep.”
“I’m gonna have a shower before. You come?”
They walk to the bathroom hand in hand, undress each other and just drink in the sight of their opposite.
“Was there anyone when I was…?”
John laughs. “No, of course not! How could I? I still loved you so much. And you?”
“John. You were my first and will forever be my only one. Never doubt that.”
Sherlock steps closer to hug John.
“I should tell you something beforehand. I was captured and they… they tortured me. It looks worse than it is.”
“It’s okay. You are here now. You are safe.”
Sherlock smirks. “I am not in shock, doctor.”
“I know, I know. Sorry. Get under the shower.”
John steps into the tub behind Sherlock.
“Give me the shampoo, please.”
John took the bottle from Sherlock and pours a bit into his hands.
“Bend down a bit.”
He revels in the feeling of Sherlocks curls in his hands.
“Hm. That feels so good, John.” Sherlock practically moans.
“I missed this, you know?” John murmurs and then kisses Sherlock with a demanding force. He lets his hands glide down his lovers back, feeling the scars. Finally his hands reach the hips, slamming their pelvises together.
“Oh god, John! I won’t last like this.”
“Me neither. Don’t want to. Two years are way too long.”
Sherlock works a hand between them and took both their cocks in hand.
“God, yes, Sh’lock.”
He works both der cocks and soon they are panting. John thrusts into Sherlocks hand and finally, finally he gets over the edge. Sherlock follows right behind him.
They lean against each other for support.
“That was…”
“Yes, it was.”
“God, Sherlock, I love you so much. Promise me you will never ever go anywhere again without me.”
“I love you, too. And believe me, it was hell for me, too. Knowing that you had no idea I was alive. I will never leave you again.”
They clean each other and stay in the shower, the water slowly turning cold, forgetting about dinner.