"To the very best of times, John."
It struck him to his core. His heart ached. John took a deep breath and walked over to Mary. She looked up at him and gave him a small smile as he stood next to her. He couldn't look at her. Must keep it together. It played in a loop in his mind. Must keep it together. You can break down later. Cry later. When you're alone.
Sherlock was leaving him alone. Again.
Yes, he wasn't technically alone, but when the person you are left with is a big fat liar and the singular cause of your best friend leaving AGAIN, you tend to not be too pleased with that, but what could he do? The Plan had gone haywire and now he was stuck with her. And who was he kidding? Sherlock wasn't just his best friend. He was his everything. His life. #sherlocklives means #johnwatsonlives.
Don't think about that. Must keep it together.
"Hey. You ok?"
John snapped back to reality. What kind of a question was that? Of course he wasn't ok! His life was falling apart piece by piece in front of his very eyes!
"Yeah," he cleared his throat and nodded, his eyes still on the plane. "Fine."
Mary smiled and hooked her arm in his. John immediately went still. They hadn't touched each other since Christmas. Not really.
He sighed and forced himself to accept her touch. Maybe it would help alleviate some of the pain.
"Should we go?" Mary whispered.
"No!" maybe that was a little harsh. He cleared his throat. "Er.. no let's just... stay a little while longer."
She nodded and followed his gaze to the plane.
After what seemed like an eternity of waiting for the inevitable, the plane took off and John's heart broke into a thousand little pieces. He couldn't stay. He couldn't leave. He was stuck to the ground beneath him watching his life fall apart.
The plane had been in the air for exactly 243 seconds when Mycroft got out of his posh car and told them the news. God, he never thought he'd be so unabashedly happy that a certain consulting criminal was back from the dead, but he was. He really really was. He breathed a sigh of relief and turned to Mary. The look on her face was anything but relieved.
"But you told me he was dead, Moriarty."
"He was. Blew his own brains out."
"So how can he be back."
"Well if he is, he better wrap up warm. There's an East Wind coming." John could feel the smile on his face as he said those words.
Sherlock was coming back. His everything. His life. And that was all that mattered.
"To the very best of times, John."
It sounded so cliche, but it was the undeniable truth. Sherlock had been half a man before he met John. Living half a life. The times spent with John were undeniably the very best.
It had been complete and utter torture walking away from John. From his life. From the one person who mattered. He was leaving him. Again. His heart couldn't take it. The heart that he wouldn't even know he had if it weren't for John. The irony of this was not lost on him.
He looked out the window to see John standing near Mary with her arm in his. He couldn't bare to look. He couldn't look away. His eyes refused to focus on anything but John. His John. The love of his life. He did his best to blink away the tears.
The engines rolled and Sherlock was brought back to himself. He could do this. He could. He'd left John to save him before. He could do it again.
Of course, the first time around he had been stupidly unaware of just how much he would miss John. How completely and utterly head over heels he was for the man. How John was his very reason for living.
Stop that. Get a hold of yourself. You have to do this. There is no other option.
That was the truth. He'd made his bed and now would lie in it.
When John had come to him with the flashdrive Sherlock jumped at the chance to help him. To save him. Seeing what Mary had done to those people...it made him physically ill. He had to save John. Save him from her. That monster of a woman. He was determined to.
But unfortunately things didn't pan out the way Sherlock expected -they never do- and he was forced to do the only thing he could think to keep John safe.
Kill Magnussen. Get himself out of the picture. Keep Mary happy.
Once the first two were done, the third would come naturally. The only variable here was John. He had to stay with her. Even though the thought made Sherlock's heart ache.
"Sir? It's your brother."
He'd only been in the air 243 seconds and the plane was turning around.
He had to laugh at the absurdity of it all. He'd spent 2 years dismantling Moriarty's network for christ's sake! How in the hell was he back? It didn't matter. He was going back. Back to John. And that was all that mattered.
"Perhaps Mrs. Watson should return home." Mycroft appeared at John's side. "London is in danger and Sherlock will undoubtedly require your assistance, Dr. Watson. I would be happy to provide a security escort to ensure her safety."
John had never been Mycroft's biggest fan, but at the moment he could practically kiss the man.
"RightyesMaryyoushouldgo." He tried not to sound too eager. It wasn't working.
"No. I'm staying. You can't leave me alone!" Mary insisted.
Before John could respond, Mycroft chimed in. "That wasn't a suggestion, Mary. You will be escorted home by one of my top agents. This is a matter of National Security. End of discussion."
Mary's face went cold and hard. "Fine." she whispered as Mycroft's minion escorted her to the car.
John allowed himself to relax. "Thanks for that."
Mycroft smirked. "Trust me. I wanted her here just as much as you did, Doctor."
That made John chuckle. Of course Mycroft knew. He always knew everything.
"We'll discuss this more once Sherlock gets settled back in."
Just as Mycroft had said that the door to the plane had opened and Sherlock appeared at the top of the stairs.
He took a deep breath. This is it.
Sherlock stared at John from the top of the stairs smiling like an idiot. Mary was no longer latched onto John's arm like a leech. In fact, she was nowhere to be seen. Thank God. Mycroft's doing most likely. Love him or hate him, but that man did have his redeeming factors.
Sherlock sucked in a breath and took a step. Before he knew it he was practically running down the stairs. To his delight, John was jogging to meet him at the bottom. Once Sherlock's feet were on solid ground, he reached out and pulled John into a crushing embrace which John eagerly reciprocated. He tightened his arms around John's shoulders, put his nose in John's hair and breathed him in. He was home. He was never letting go. And going from John's grip around his waist, he wasn't letting go either.
"I thought I'd lost you again." John breathed. "I don't know if I would have survived, you git."
Sherlock felt his stomach do a flip.
"I surely wouldn't have," he whispered. His lips to John's ear.
John pulled away slightly and looked Sherlock in the eye. "You mean that literally, don't you?"
John pursed his lips for a moment. It seemed to Sherlock that he was deep in thought.
"John, about earlier," Sherlock said, determined to keep John from thinking too hard, "I'm sorry. I should have-"
Sherlock was afraid that he had angered John in some way, but his fears were unfounded when suddenly John's hand was on the back of his neck pulling him down and pressing their lips together. Hard. A very pleasantly surprised Sherlock wrapped his arms around Johns waist and pulled him in closer. Snogging John Watson was better than Sherlock Holmes had ever imagined. And he imagined it a LOT. John's lips were soft and supple against his own and the hand rubbing small circles on the back of Sherlock's neck sent shivers down his spine. John's tongue darted out to taste Sherlock's plump bottom lip and Sherlock parted his lips slightly, inviting John in. His tongue was warm and slightly rough against his own. John let out a small growl at the first taste of Sherlock's tongue and immediately deepened the kiss. Sherlock definitely wasn't letting go now.
They immediately froze with their lips still pressed together. It would have been comical under other circumstances, but with Mycroft standing an arms length away from them it was downright uncomfortable. They slowly and reluctantly pulled away from each other.
"Perhaps it would be prudent to first get back to Baker Street."
"Oh for god's sake," Sherlock groaned. "Couldn't you allow us one moment of privacy?"
"Brother dear," Mycroft sighed. "I have your best interests in mind. Truly, I do. Baker Street. Now."
Sherlock rolled his eyes at that, but it was all for show. Truthfully, there was no other place he'd rather be than at 221B Baker Street with John. He'd have to do his best to get rid of Mycroft, though.
They took their seats in the back of the car with Mycroft close behind. On impulse, John grabbed Sherlock's hand and held it tight.
A look of surprise flashed across Sherlock's face, but was quickly replaced with a beaming smile.
John beamed right back.
"Ahem," Mycroft feigned another cough to snap them back to reality. "As you both know, our Plan was derailed after a certain turn of events, but I assure you that we are doing our best to get back on track as soon as possible."
John's lips were pursed in his telltale sign of distress. His grip on Sherlock's hand tightened.
Sherlock turned to look at him and intertwined their fingers, sending silent reassurance.
It's going to be fine, John
John took a deep breath and gave him a small smile.
"It took a great deal of work for us to track down Mary's true identity, but seeing as the flashdrive was useless, we had no choice but to do some ever exhausting legwork." Mycroft said with a look of true disgust.
"AND?" Sherlock spat out impatiently.
"Her name is Sabrina. Moran. Sound familiar?"
"Wait," John said, perplexed. "Moran. The same Moran that tried to blow Parliament to smithereens?"
"The very same. They've been working together for the last ten years. She's his wife."
John huffed out a breath. His wife. Of course she was. Of course. That lying scheming bitch. John knew he should have called off the wedding after the stag night, but something inside of him convinced him he shouldn't. That it was all in his head. Sherlock didn't really want him. If he did, he wouldn't have left. He thought Mary was safe. Mary was a sure thing.
Mary was a liar.
"That's all the intel we have so far. Lord Moran is reluctant to share anything without... persuasion. And there's only so much we can do before we have Mary - excuse me - Sabrina in custody."
"John," Sherlock said with a pained expression. "I am truly sorry."
"Don't be. I should have known. She didn't even let me propose. To be honest, I don't think I would have once you came back. She basically put the ring on herself. I should have known."
"Don't blame yourself," Sherlock was staring at his lap, his shame clear in his voice. "I should have seen it myself, but I wasn't focused enough. I could barely think straight. I came back and everything was different.
"Both of you get a grip," Mycroft looked sternly at the two of them. "She was a very effective liar. She worked at it. We all share the blame here, but she will pay dearly for her actions."
"I never thought I'd say this," John whispered. "But thank god Moriarty is back because if I had to spend one more day with her I think I'd blow my own brains out. If she didn't first, that is."
"Oh John," Mycroft almost laughed. "Moriarty is dead."
"What do you mean, he's DEAD?" John said as he walked up the 17 steps to 221B, shrugging off his coat and tossing it on the couch as he made a beeline for the tea cupboard. "I just saw his face, how can he be dead?"
"It was a long shot, John," Mycroft took a seat in John's red armchair and ignored the 'look of death' that Sherlock was sending his way. "But I simply could not let Sherlock go to his death in Eastern Europe. I had to do something."
John came to stand in the doorway to the kitchen with two mugs in hand. "And you knew about this, did you?" He shot a look at Sherlock.
Sherlock squirmed under his intense gaze. "I had my suspicions, John. I witnessed the man shoot himself in the head, even I couldn't fake that."
John's shoulders slumped. "Okay, so he's dead. He's dead and you staged his return. Thank god you're above all the dramatics."
"It was the only way, John." Mycroft gave a huge sigh.
"And what of Mary?" Sherlock interjected.
"Sabrina is being escorted to an undisclosed location as we speak," Mycroft said with as much enthusiasm as one reads the weather. "She will be induced upon arrival. Once that is out of the way, she will be questioned and tried for her crimes."
"What happens to the baby?" John asked with a worried look to Sherlock.
"She will be given to the rightful next of kin," Mycroft sighed nonchalantly. "I assumed you'd object to a prenatal paternity test and the postnatal test cannot be conducted until the baby is born, as I'm sure you're aware."
John was going to be sick. He could feel the bile rising in his throat. That lying scumbag. She deserves everything she has coming to her. I'd kill her myself if I could. He was fuming.
"John," Sherlock gently put his hands on John's shoulders. "I know you're ready to shoot her yourself at the moment, but you need to be patient. There are other things at play here and we can't lose focus."
John leaned his forehead on Sherlock's chest and breathed him in. It was amazing to John how calming Sherlock's presence could be. "You're right," John whispered. "I know you are, but after everything she's done to me, Sherlock. Everything she's done to you. She has to pay for this."
"She will, John," Sherlock took John's chin in his hand and gently lifted his head so their faces were mere centimetres apart. "Trust me. She will."
Then Sherlock closed the space between them with his lips. It was the gentlest kiss John had ever shared with another person. It was a promise. They would do this together. Get through it together.
William Sherlock Scott Holmes and John Hamish Watson. Even with everything falling to pieces around them, nothing had ever felt so right.
Come let me love you
and then colour me in.
"Well, I'll be off," Mycroft said mostly to himself. "There's nothing to do now but wait for news on the delivery of the baby. I'll update you as necessary." He got up from John's chair and made his way to the door. Just before he walked through the doorway, he looked back and said, "Be good to him."
Before either of the men could respond, Mycroft was down the stairs and out the door.
John gave a little laugh. "I'm not sure whether that advice was for you or for me."
"I'm sure it was a little bit of both," Sherlock chuckled as he caressed John's bicep. "John," He whispered, suddenly taking on a more serious tone. "About what I said earlier... I want you to know that I meant it wholeheartedly. The times I've spent with you have been the best of my life and I wouldn't trade our years of friendship for anything else in the world."
"Sherlock," John said with a strained voice.
"No, please. Let me say this," He said and took a deep breath to do his best to keep the tears at bay. "I can't let the moment pass me by again. Before you, I didn't have anyone. I had no friends to speak of. I had the drugs and I had cases. But I wasn't sad. I wasn't lonely. I was just me. When I first saw you, I knew you'd be different. After our first adventure together, I knew that my life would never be the same. You understood me in a way no one ever had or had ever attempted to. You made the fun bits more fun and the dull bits less dull. And before I could stop myself, I knew that I'd completely and utterly fallen in love with you." Sherlock was weeping freely now, but couldn't be arsed to care. "When Moriarty had me trapped on the roof, I knew what I had to do to keep you alive. Even if that meant leaving you for a little while."
John huffed a tiny laugh at this, but held Sherlock's gaze as he tenderly wiped the tears from Sherlock's cheeks.
"I always knew I'd come back to you, though. Either that or I'd die trying. The two years I spent away from you were the most painful thing I've ever had to endure. Even more than a gunshot wound." He gave John a small smile. "You were the only thing that kept me going those two years. Your voice inside my head saved me more times than I would care to count." He pressed his palm to John's cheek, stopped a runaway tear in it's tracks. "When I was finally able to come back, I had convinced myself that nothing would be different. You'd still be living here, getting your danger high from some other source. I never dreamt that you'd move out and move on. It was completely selfish of me, but what can I say? After two years of fighting to get back to you, I had high hopes. After I came back, I felt something that I hadn't felt in years. Completely and utterly alone. I was surrounded by people, yet completely alone. Yes, you would sometimes come along on cases, but what good is that when at the end of the day you'd go home to her? I tried my best to put on a brave face. To be your best man. One of the two people you loved most in the world." The tears wouldn't stop streaming down his face. "It was completely unbearable, but I made it through. It gutted me to the core when I'd deduced the pregnancy. I was sure I'd lost you forever. I couldn't stay after that. I couldn't watch you bask in the glow of it all with her. I couldn't stand to be in that place any longer. I came straight here and tore everything apart. My life was in shambles. Everything I'd worked towards for two years wasn't even mine. It was hers. I couldn't bear it. You told me I could have called to talk to you if I was anywhere near using again, but the truth is… It would have made my need for it worse. I’d hear your voice and my heart would break all over again. I just couldn’t, John. My heart wouldn’t have been able to take it.”
Sherlock’s hand was still cradling John’s jaw, his thumb caressing his cheekbone, gently wiping his tears away. John turned his head ever so slightly and pressed a small kiss to the palm of Sherlock’s hand.
“If I had only known,” John breathed. “I would have waited. I would have waited a thousand years for you, Sherlock.” He wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist and buried his face in his posh shirt. “I didn’t know. I only hoped. Before you, I thought the only high I could get was on the battlefield. I never knew life could excite me. Thrill me. You showed me a world I never even knew existed. No one had ever looked at me the way you did. Yes, I had girlfriends, but they never lasted. Not while you were around. You were the one I wanted. The one I always wanted. I never thought you wanted me back. When you were gone, I told myself that if I ever had a second chance, I’d take it. I wouldn’t think, I’d just snog you senseless and pray to god you’d kiss me back. When you came back, I thought it was too late. Yes, technically it was a second chance, but things were different. I couldn’t just leave Mary in the lurch, even though I probably should have… Hindsight is 20/20, isn’t it?”
They shared a small laugh, but John’s gaze remained intense.
“I love you, Sherlock. Down to my very core. Life without you was no life at all and I never want to live like that again. You breathe colour into my world. With every fibre of my being, I love you.”
“John,” Sherlock choked out as he cradled the back of his neck with both hands. “You are my light. My sun. My source of life. Without you, I am nothing. ‘Love’ is not a strong enough word to describe the depth of what I feel for you. I breathe for you. I live for you. My life is yours. I am yours. Always.”
“Oh god, Sherlock,” He surged forward and captured Sherlock’s lips with his. John wrapped his arms tightly around Sherlock’s neck. “I love you,” He whispered between kisses. “I love you, I love you, I love you. So much.”
“I love you, John,” Sherlock whispered back as he wound his left arm around John’s waist and pulling him impossibly closer. “John. My John.” He brought his right hand up to John’s chest, feeling his heartbeat. “I’ve wanted this for so long. Wanted you. I thought it might never happen.”
John caressed Sherlock’s face. “You have me, Sherlock.” John laced his fingers through Sherlock’s black curls and closed the distance between them with a tender kiss.
Sherlock’s hand slowly worked at the buttons of John’s shirt.
John sucked in a breath and immediately deepened the kiss, suddenly frantic for more. More contact. More skin. He kissed and nipped along Sherlock’s jaw line until he reached that gorgeous neck and Sherlock let out a gentle moan.
“Bedroom,” Sherlock said in an impossibly low baritone. “Now.” He took both John’s hands in his and led him down the hall, his eyes never leaving John’s.
John should have known that Sherlock would be able to walk backwards and manage to look sexy as hell doing it. He huffed out a tiny breath. “God you’re gorgeous…”
Sherlock stopped them at the doorway to his bedroom, leaned him against the doorframe, and looked at John with the utmost adoration. “Not as gorgeous as you, John.”
“Mmmm,” John hummed in appreciation. “I love the way you say my name.”
Sherlock leaned over him and put his lips to his ear. “I love saying it,” he whispered as he kissed John’s earlobe and nipped at it.
John growled in response and took Sherlock by the shoulders, leading him back until his calves hit the bed. “If you keep talking like that,” John whispered as he gently shoved Sherlock onto the bed. “I won’t last very long.”
“You’re wearing too many clothes, John.” Sherlock grabbed the hem of John’s shirt and pulled it off in one fluid motion.
“You too,” John said as he fumbled with Sherlock’s belt buckle and slowly pulled down his trousers. He rubbed his palm over the tent in Sherlock’s pants. His mouth was already watering. He’d never done this with a man, but he knew what he liked himself. He could just try to mimic that.
Sherlock grabbed John’s wrist gently guiding his hand over his pants covered cock. “John,” He said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Please. Touch me.”
That was all the invitation John needed. He quickly rid himself of the rest of his clothing and pushed Sherlock up the bed until he was half resting against the headboard. He gently spread Sherlock’s legs and nestled himself between them. He leaned on his right elbow and planted a wet kiss on Sherlock’s left kneecap.
Sherlock’s hips bucked and he fisted his hands in the sheets.
“I’ve got you, love,” John whispered as he slowly kissed his way up Sherlock’s leg. “Let go… I’ve got you.”
Sherlock moan in response and rested his left hand on John’s head, his fingers gently massaging his scalp. Sherlock took a shaking breath. “John… My John… Oh god…”
John’s own cock was aching for release, but he ignored it in favor of covering Sherlock’s lower body with little kisses. “You are amazing,” John said to him between kisses. “You know that? Utterly incredible.” He nosed at the hair at the base of the genius’s cock.
“My god, John,” Sherlock groaned. “Please.”
John licked a long stripe from the base to the tip of Sherlock’s throbbing cock. He grabbed the base with his left hand and guided the tip to his mouth. John swirled his tongue around the tip before wrapping his lips around it engulfing it in the wet heat of his mouth.
“John John John John…” Sherlock’s brain could barely function. There was only John. John’s hands, John’s lips, John’s mouth. And that was all that mattered.
“You are so bloody gorgeous,” John said while alternating between licking and sucking. “The most gorgeous man I have ever seen.” He pushed down his gag reflex and took Sherlock’s entire length in his mouth.
Sherlock’s breath caught and he tightened his hand in John’s hair. “Wait, John,” He said suddenly, pulling his hair gently. John’s mouth let go of Sherlock’s cock with a loud pop. “I want you inside me.”
“Oh god yes,” John’s voice low and gravelly. “Do you have-“
“In the drawer,” Sherlock breathed.
John grabbed the lube and slicked two of his fingers. “Let me know if it hurts.”
“God, John I’m not-“
“I know you’re not fragile, Sherlock. Just please…”
John kissed his way up Sherlock’s torso as he teased the puckered ring of muscle open. He was nipping at Sherlock’s left nipple when his middle finger slipped in to the first knuckle.
Sherlock sucked in a breath.
“Okay?” John whispered, his lips now on Sherlock’s neck.
“More, John. I need more.”
John happily complied. He gently slipped his finger all the way in then stilled his hand. “I love you,” He whispered in Sherlock’s ear.
Just as Sherlock was about to reply, John took the words from him by brushing his finger against his prostate.
“Mmmm you like that?” John hummed with pleasure.
Sherlock could only nod in response.
John quickly slicked a second finger with more lube and gently pressed in. “You’re so beautiful like this, love.” He gently fingered him more open.
Sherlock was pressing down on John’s fingers, seeking more. “Now John, please,” He groaned. “I need you inside me.”
“Yes, love, yes,” John said as he slicked his cock. “Yes, Sherlock.” He pulled Sherlock down the bed and placed a pillow under his hips. He pressed their bodies together from hips to chest. His hips bucked at the contact.
Sherlock wrapped his arms and legs around John’s body, pushing their bodies impossibly closer. John took his own slick cock in his hand and guided the tip to the crease of Sherlock’s gorgeous arse. He teased the opening with the tip of his leaking cock and finally pressed into the velvety heat.
“John,” Sherlock moaned.
John tried hard to focus, but he was very nearly seeing stars. “Alright, love?” He panted. He really wasn’t going to last.
Sherlock pushed his hips down in response, seeking more.
John pushed all the way in, immediately finding his prostate. “Oh god, Sherlock you feel so amazing.”
“You are amazing, John,” Sherlock’s breathing was laboured. “Now please, stop teasing and fuck me.”
John pulled out ever so slowly and pounded into Sherlock. “Like that?” He growled.
“Yes, John, yes! Harder!”
John worked his cock in and out of Sherlock, gripping the headboard and nearly bending Sherlock in half, hitting that spot inside of him every single time.
When John felt his bullocks drawing up and Sherlock’s arse tightening around him, he wrapped his hand around Sherlock’s cock and pumped his fist.
He pumped once, twice, and then Sherlock was coming with John’s name on his lips. Spilling between their bodies.
John followed less than a second later, filling Sherlock with his release. They rode out the waves of the aftershocks together. Whispering ‘I love you’s in each other’s ears.
Sherlock made a sound of discomfort as John gently pulled himself out of their tangle of limbs.
“I’ll be back, love,” He whispered as he tiptoed into the loo for a flannel.
After cleaning them both up, John slipped back into bed and slotted himself in so they were face to face. He wrapped his arm around Sherlock’s middle and pulled him in.
“John,” Sherlock whispered.
“Yes, love?” John gently stroked his back.
“For what?” John made a little face.
“For loving me back.” A single tear rolled down Sherlock’s cheek.
John’s sucked in a breath. Who would have thought Sherlock Holmes could be such a romantic? “Thank you for loving me at all.” He kissed away the tear on his lover’s cheek and pressed their foreheads together with their lips centimetres apart. John closed the small distance between them and they shared a long gentle kiss.
They drifted off to sleep together with smiles on their lips.
Sherlock woke with a start the next morning to the sound of his mobile going off. It was half four and he was just in the middle of a wonderful dream. After opening his eyes and searching for the mobile in question, he realised it wasn’t a dream at all. John Watson was still sleeping next to him.
John Watson. In his bed. He smiled to himself as he slipped out so as to not wake up the sleeping form.
He padded about the room in search of his idiotic mobile that insisted on ringing incessantly. After fumbling around blindly, he found it in the pocket of his trouser’s that had disappeared almost completely under the bed. The light from the screen nearly blinded him.
He would have been angry if he didn’t owe the man his life.
“Any news?” His voice was hoarse from sleep.
“Labor has been induced. I’ve sent a car for you; it will be at Baker Street in 10 minutes. Be ready.” Sherlock’s stomach rolled with trepidation. This had the potential to change things forever. Deep breaths.
Sherlock put his mobile down and rested his hand on John’s shoulder. “John,” He whispered gently.
His eyes shot open and he leapt out of the bed nearly toppling Sherlock over. “Right,” He mumbled as he stepped into his jeans and pulled them up in one smooth motion. John was ever the soldier. Ready to go at a moments’ notice.
They were stood at the door to 221B shrugging on their coats when Sherlock realised they hadn’t exchanged more than a few words in their haste.
“I… Er... I er… That is to say that…” Deep breaths. “Whatever happens, I will always be there.”
John held his eyes for a moment with something between a grimace and a smile on his face. “Best get this over with, yeah?” He gave Sherlock a peck on the cheek before leading the way down the stairs and out the door.
They had been waiting in the holding area for three hours (the longest three hours of John’s life so far) by the time Mycroft stepped in.
“It’s a girl. She’s being taken to the nursery and a DNA test is being conducted as we speak. We’ll know within the hour whether or not the baby is yours. In the meantime, I have arranged for you to speak with Sabrina before she is incarcerated… If you so desire.”
“So she can rub it in my face how she seduced me, manipulated me, and then shot my best friend? No, I’m all set, thanks.”
“John,” Sherlock cut in. “I believe we should. She may have information that Mycroft’s minions have looked past.”
“But she’s the last of Moriarty’s web, Sherlock. What could we possible have to gain by talking to her?”
“We assumed she was the last, but there could be more. We have to know for sure. I can speak to her on my own, if you wish, but we can’t let this opportunity pass us by.”
“Fine. Five minutes.”
They were led into what looked to John to be a standard recovery room. Mary -Sabrina. Stop making her something she never was - was sitting up in her bed with her hands tied down and a guard on either side of her. She looked up at them, her eyes cloudy. John could tell that the painkillers were still in effect. Perfect. Maybe she’ll be more bearable this way.
“Ooooh, look at these two lovebirds,” Sabrina cooed. “Hello, boys. To what do I owe the pleasure?” John could see the disdain dripping from every word she spoke.
Or she’ll be more miserable. “Hello, Sabrina,” John hissed.
“Finally figured it out, did you? Or did your genius boyfriend over here have to spell it out for you? Poor Johnny, always two steps behind. Did little Johnny boy need his precious detective to hold his hand through this terrible heartbreak?”
“NO!” His fists were clenched at his sides. Deep breaths. Do not explode. She isn’t worth it. “Don’t start with me, Mary, I promise you it will not end well.”
“Sabrina,” Sherlock cut in, saving John the trouble of strangling the woman. “As enjoyable as this reunion is, there are more important things at hand.”
“I would have thought you’d be able to deduce my intentions right away, Sherlock. You’re slower than I thought-”
“Why did you do it, Sabrina?” Sherlock cut her off. “a petty revenge story to add to your already impressive repertoire?”
“Oh Sherlock,” She hissed, ignoring his question. “When I first saw you four years ago, I never imagined burning the heart out of you would be so damned tedious.”
“Four years?” John and Sherlock asked in confusion.
“The pool. Where little Carl died,” Sabrina mimicked. “You both were supposed to die that night. Jim couldn’t have you bodging up his plans.”
“The snipers,” Sherlock whispered. “Of course. You and Sebastian were there aiming rifles at our chests.” John could tell Sherlock’s mind was racing now.
“If only Irene Adler hadn’t fucked everything up and convinced him to let you live,” she said with disdain.
John couldn’t completely disagree there.
“He was determined to burn the heart out of you. On the day you jumped off the roof, we promised to fulfil his plan no matter what happened to him. Our fearless leader was gone because of you. Because of John. We couldn’t allow you to continue after you’d forced him to take the only viable option.”
“So you seduced me in order to get revenge on your dead boss?” John said incredulously.
“Oh, John. I hardly seduced you. You were so sad and small when I met you. It was easy. Like taking candy from a baby. After Sherlock finally revealed himself was a different story. That night at the restaurant, I saw him come up to you in that ridiculous waiter get-up. I couldn’t allow you to notice him before you’d popped the question. You’d never have asked me, otherwise and you know it.”
“But why do it in the first place?” John asked, still digesting all the new information.
“What better way to burn the heart out of the man than to take his love away? I knew Sebastian and I had made the right decision when Sherlock pulled you out of that bonfire. Lucky CAM actually helped us without even knowing it.”
“But I thought Moran was working for North Korea,” John still didn’t understand.
“It was two years since Moriarty’s death, John. He had to work and North Korea was the better paying job,” Sherlock deduced.
“Very good,” Sabrina said mockingly. “You’re getting better, Sherly.”
Alright that’s it. “So what now?” John asked Sherlock. He was getting impatient.
Sherlock took John’s cue. “Sabrina, we need all the information you can give us on the remains of Moriarty’s web. Is there anyone else after us?”
“And ruin the surprise? Why would I ever do that?”
“If you don’t, I assure you, both you and Sebastian will die a very slow and painful death.”
“This all depends on you, Sabrina,” Sherlock said with disdain. “We have the power to put you away for the rest of your life in a cold cell with no more than a bucket… Or we can put you in a comfortable cell with pillows and blankets; perhaps even a television. It’s your choice.”
Sherlock couldn’t imagine ever helping this wretch of a woman, but he knew these were necessary steps he needed to take. He had to ensure John’s safety at any cost.
“Oh please, Sherlock. Do you really think there is anyone left besides Sebastian and me? You murdered everyone of importance… Most brutally, I might add. I must say I’m quite impressed.”
Sherlock’s fists tightened at his sides. The nerve of this woman! To equate what I did to save the love of my life to her career assassin lifestyle? How dare she. I ought to strangle the woman right here and now!
He took a deep breath and steadied his shaking fists. “I had no other choice when John’s safety was at stake. John would have died if I hadn’t. And believe me, Sabrina… There is nothing I would not do to stop that happening.”
“Isn’t that heartwarming?” Sabrina sneered. “Rest assured, Sherly. No one is threatening your precious John any longer. You can live happily ever after together in your shit flat with eyeballs in the fridge. A fairytale ending.”
Something about her choice of words made Sherlock do a second take. Before he could say anything Mycroft entered the room and handed a file to John. “The results are in.”
John practically tore the file open and scanned the page. His face was so telling that Sherlock didn’t even have to look at the paper. He was tempted to blurt the results out himself, but he knew it wasn’t his place. His eyes darted back to Sabrina, who looked as if she’d just won the lottery.
After staring at the paper for what seemed like ages, John breathed a sigh of relief. “This whole time you would have let me believe this was my child. You never would have said anything, would you?”
For a moment, Sherlock wasn’t sure who that question was directed to.
“You lying, scheming, coward of a woman.” John was shaking with anger. “How could you?”
“I was going to have oh so much fun burning the heart out of your precious Sherlock. What little was left of it, I mean. I’m surprised he didn’t overdose after the wedding.”
Sherlock’s blood was boiling. His hands twitched at his sides with the desire to strangle this woman.
“Watching him as we danced away was the highlight of my year. Poor, sad Sherlock… Johnny boy didn’t choose him. You could see the devastation written all over his face.”
“How dare you! I stayed so I wouldn’t hurt you!” John lunged at her, his hands finding her throat. “Fuck you!”
The guard at Sabrina’s left side grabbed John by the shoulders and slowly pushed him back. John was fuming, but Sherlock could see his blood pressure slowly dropping. Sherlock was glad for the drugs they’d pumped Sabrina with for the epidural… She surely would have nearly killed him if she had been at full capacity.
“Don’t worry, John. She’s about to be incarcerated for the remainder of her sad little life. She’s not worth it.” Sherlock grabbed John’s shoulders and looked him square in the eye. “She’s a liar. She’s not worth it.”
Mycroft all but pushed John and Sherlock out the door. "While I don't disagree with the sentiment, we cannot end her."
Yet. John thought maliciously.
"The good news is, since she married you under a false name and the baby isn't your flesh and blood, you have no legal ties to that woman whatsoever."
John was oddly relieved at that. The last 24 hours had been a roller-coaster of epic proportions. On the one hand he was heartbroken having discovered the lie that was Mary Morstan. On the other, he was giddy over the fact that he and Sherlock were finally what they should have been all along. He didn't have the slightest idea how he should feel about the baby. If John was honest with himself he'd admit that he was never truly looking forward to it. The baby was not planned. And when he thought of it in the weeks following the wedding, he could only look on it with trepidation. Not in the way a father normally fears having their first child, but more in the sense that he genuinely did not want it. He felt horrible about it at the time, but now it feels as if a weight has been lifted. John never truly wanted children. All he wanted was his life with Sherlock. He thought back to those times before The Fall. When it was just the two of them against the rest of the world. He finally had that back. Something like relief flooded his veins.
John let out a sigh and looked at the man next to him. The man who made him feel alive. The man who gave his life meaning. The love of his life.
They shared a small smile.
"Let's go home."
Sorry this literally took me a million years to update. RL is a bitch.
The air was cool and crisp as they walked out onto the street. John took a deep breath and looked at Sherlock.
“Walk?” he asked, his voice still ridden with tension.
They started down the road in perfect tandem and John slipped his hand into Sherlock’s.
“Thank god that’s over.”
Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief before letting out a chorus of deep rich laughter. John’s high-pitched giggle soon joined him.
“Christ, are we a piece of work.” John’s giggles floated into the air around them as he stopped on the sidewalk and took Sherlock’s face in his hands.
“And I wouldn’t change that for the world. I love you, Sherlock. More than I have ever loved anyone. I loved you before I even knew your name and I refuse to waste anymore time thinking about Mary. She was just a stand in. She was a temporary placeholder. And, as it turns out, a big fat evil fucking liar. To hell with her and to hell with Moran. I have no doubt that you and I can deal with them.”
Sherlock looked into John’s deep blue eyes and what he saw there took his breath away. The happiness mixed with determination mixed with faith mixed with complete and utter adoration. He was gorgeous. And sexy as hell. Sherlock surged forward and captured John’s mouth with his own. John immediately parted his lips inviting Sherlock’s tongue in and deepening the kiss. John’s hands roaming down to Sherlock’s arse and giving a small squeeze.
Sherlock made a small sound of surprise and could immediately feel John smiling against his lips. Sherlock responded by letting his hands drift downward, grabbing John’s hips and pressing their bodies together. They had only been snogging for a minute, but the evidence of their arousal was already very evident.
John growled as he peppered Sherlock’s neck with kisses. “Oh god, Sherlock. The things I want to do to you… that I want you to do to me…”
“Yes, John.” He breathed into his ear in encouragement. Sherlock slotted his thigh between John’s so his erection was pressing against John’s hip.
“I could suck you off right now.” John licked the shell of his ear and Sherlock’s brain short-circuited.
It was still dark out and the street was relatively empty. John took Sherlock by the hand and led him down a narrow alley just a few steps ahead of them. Sherlock couldn’t believe what was happening. He had fantasized about this kind of thing, of course, but he never expected John to be the one to instigate it.
Sherlock’s back was against the cold brick wall as John started kissing down his chest, his right hand palming Sherlock’s cock through his wool trousers.
Sherlock let out a small cry at the delicious pressure. ”Yes, John.”
“I’ve dreamt about this, you know. After a particularly brilliant deduction or a successful suspect chase. I never thought I’d actually get to do it.” John continued to tease Sherlock through his trousers.
Sherlock was in delicious agony at the anticipation of John’s beautiful lips around his cock. He was paralysed with pleasure at the thought of it. He’d let John do whatever he wanted. He always knew John was less of an idiot than the rest of the world, but Sherlock did not give him enough credit. Clearly the man was a genius.
John’s fingers were finally working his belt open and unzipping his fly. Sherlock steeled himself and looked down at the sight. John on his knees in front of him, his pants covered cock just centimeters away from the wet heat of that mouth. John’s tongue darted out wetting his lips. Sherlock couldn’t help the moan that escaped his mouth.
John placed his hands on Sherlock’s hips effectively holding him in place. He nosed at the base of his cock, placing small kisses around the base down his still partially clothed scrotum.
“John, please,” Sherlock said as he threaded one hand through John’s hair and holding himself against the wall with the other.
John quickly hooked his thumbs under the waistband of Sherlock’s pants and pulled them halfway down his thighs. His cock immediately sprang free. He was achingly hard and thanks to the fantasy coming true before his very eyes, he was also not going to last very long. John immediately licked one long stripe from base to tip.
It seemed evident to Sherlock that John had had enough of the teasing as well because he was immediately taking all of Sherlock in his hot wet mouth and hollowing his cheeks.
“Oh god John, I’m not going to last.” Sherlock breathed.
John swirled his tongue around the head of his cock and worked his shaft with left hand while softly massaging the scrotum with his right.
“Brilliant, John.” Sherlock gently pulled the hair at the nape of John’s neck.
John hummed his agreement and hollowed his cheeks.
“Oh GOD JOHN.” Pleasure sparked behind his eyes and Sherlock was coming. Spending himself into John’s mouth. John swallowing his come. Oh god that was hot.
It took Sherlock a full five minutes to come back to himself. By the time he realised where they were, John had tucked him back into his pants and done up his flies.
“I can’t believe we just did that.”