KaylieghLock1986



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    A series of rash experiments at twenty-three left omega Sherlock unable to form a bond or have a child. He never particularly cared, even if he sometimes caught himself wishing after meeting John. Now at 36, this inability is simply another part of who he is, like his intellect or his tendency for addiction. So after one night's loss of logic with his married best friend, he doesn't think to question it.

    In hindsight, he really shouldn't have taken it for granted.

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    04 Oct 2019

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    Wilson shrugged. “Well, you’ve met him,” he pointed out. “What do you think House’s kid would be like, if House had a kid?”

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    08 Aug 2019

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    “I love you.”

    Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling.

    “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up.

    The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”

    Language:
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    20 Jul 2019

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    “When did I get so old,” John whispers, because anything else seems too much.

    “When I left you, I imagine.” Sherlock murmurs, presses John’s hand between his. “When I destroyed everything good in your life.”

    John shakes his head, and lifts his other hand to press atop Sherlock’s. “You had your reasons. I was angry for a long time, but I’m not anymore—not about that. I’m angry at your brother more than you. And as for—the rest, you know I don’t blame you for that. It wasn’t your fault, Sherlock. It wasn’t your fault.”

    “As your feeling old and useless isn’t yours.”

    John’s chest feels tight. These are the most real words they’ve said to one another in months. Usually it’s case related chat, or the weather, or light banter about something on the telly. They haven’t talked like this since Sherlock’s birthday. They don’t talk like this. They never talk like this.

    John doesn’t want to talk anymore.

    He wants to…

    He wants…

    Oh.

    He wants.

    Oh dear god, how he wants.

    For the first time in what feels like years he WANTS.

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    17 Jul 2019

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    John feels a momentary twinge of fondness, a fondness he’s been allowing himself to indulge in more and more, of late. One more thing that’s changed. But this change is one that does harken back to those early days, and John finds he doesn’t mind. More than that, he finds he wants it. The anger and bitterness had begun to be too heavy a burden, and no matter how painful the thought of his feelings never fully being returned may be, it’s still easier to bear than the rage, regret and self-loathing. Sherlock wants him here at his side, he’s made that amply clear, on more than one occasion, since John moved back, and that’s enough.

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    17 Jul 2019