All the wrong choices brought me here anyway (Sherlock HolmessxJohn Watson MD)

It was raining.
He was wet.
And he was walking down Baker Street.

His heart was beating fast, but he knew it wasn't because of the fight he just had with Mary.
They always fought.
It was why they were filing for divorce.
John had learned to accept that.

What he still couldn't accept was the fact that the door of 221b Baker street still felt like home even though it had been home only for a small part of his life.
It was the only place that had ever felt like home.

I owe you so much...
I was so alone...

He closed his eyes, looking up at the dark sky, there was a light coming out of the window, Sherlock was awake, or maybe dozing off in his armchair.
They hadn't met in almost six months.

At the beginning Sherlock had popped around a bit, he had dragged John to a few cases, but then he had become distant, and things had shifted.
For all John knew, Sherlock could have decided to delete him from his hard drive, the mere idea was enough to upset him more than his failed marriage.

He rang the bell and knocked on the door, suddenly needy to see Sherlock's face.

Sherlock was stretched out on the sofa and he had been for at least the last 5 hours. He had nothing to do, he hadn't had anything for the last 3 days. It was dreadful, it was driving him insane. Sherlock had 3 nicotine patched attached to his arm. If not for keeping him from smoking, then it was to get him high. Giving up on smoking, Hm. What a Joke. Ever since John got married he had smoked more then in the last years together. It had bothered him, it had bothered him a lot and it still did.

Mary was a nice woman. She was kind enough and willing to take care of John. She even allowed Sherlock to interfere whatever they were doing, even though he knew she wasn't to happy about it. But Sherlock never likes her and there had only been one reason. John.

His John. Sherlock had fallen in love with this ex soldier from the first time they got introduced to each other in the lab. He couldn't believe how easily it went. He had never been able to even like someone, let alone fall for them completely after only exchanging a brief amount of words.

When he got to hear the delightful news of John getting engaged and married to Mary, he knew everything they ever had was over. Things would never be the same and Sherlock was left heartbroken and alone in his flat in Baker Street. John had stopped coming along on cases and Sherlock was back to babbling to his skull. Though he had never showed any of his sadness to John. He wanted John to be happy, to be whatever he wanted to be. So Sherlock spent many nights dwelling over it on his own. Sleepless, restless and determined on never falling in love again.

Sherlock laid very still, letting the effect of the patches do their work. A few moments later his eyes shot open as the sound of the bell came ringing through. For all Sherlock knew it could be a client. He could use a client, he could use any kind of distraction right now or the walls could end up looking worse then they already did.

Without even caring about the way he looked, Sherlock shuffled down the stairs. His dressing gown wavering after him as he made his slow way down. He opened the door, hoping to see a desperate stranger offering him the case of the year. But instead he saw a painfully familiar face appearing right in front of him and within seconds he could feel his heart beating inside of his throat.

"John." He said formally, not putting any emotions in at all.

He saw the flicker of surprise on the other's face, but it disappeared to leave way to Sherlock's cold and dry tone.
"Sherlock," he replied in greeting, not sure what the throbbing of his heart meant.

"Glad to see you still remember my name," he joked with a grin, no one would know how much the whole matter worried him.

Sherlock seemed to always be in control, always uninterested and unfeeling, but John knew better, he knew there was a storm in the other's heart. He knew Sherlock was more human that he let on. He knew he cared.
Sometimes he really had to remind himself of that though, especially when he was looked upon with grey questioning eyes.

"Do you think your blogger can sleep in his old room for a few days? I'll take the couch if you are using it for something else," he muttered, bowing his head slightly.

Sherlock's eyes lingered on John's face, taking in every detail. He could easily tell John had been crying. He had a fight with Mary and the only reason he was here now was to find a shelter from the storm. Unbelievable.

For a brief moment Sherlock had thought John had come around because he might have missed him. Because he felt they lost contact and he wanted to make up for it. But instead he is here asking his room back because he has no where else to go. Sherlock scoffed in disbelieve.

"Of course I remember your name." He said, still as dry.

"Sorry John, this is a flat not an hotel." He answered. How could John even do this? Disappear for oh so long and then expecting Sherlock to open up the door with a smile and let him back in as if nothing ever happened? What was he taking Sherlock for?

The time alone had turned Sherlock rather bitter. If this happened a few months ago he would have let John in, he would have done everything to keep John from going back to his wife. But he had waited and waited for so long, but nothing ever happened and he had lost all hope.

John's lips were stretching in a smile at Sherlock's words, but they froze when looking at him he realized the detective was not joking.
He felt his whole body tense up, his heart frozen in his chest.
"What?"

His hands balled into fists at his side, nervous, he hadn't expected this, Sherlock's harshness was something he had never really had to deal with.
It broke his heart.

He should have been angry, really.
But at the moment he felt miserable and nothing else.

"I have nowhere to go, Sherlock," he whispered, looking at the street, he didn't know what to say, he wanted to cling to Sherlock, he needed his friend, he needed him so much it hurt.

"You are my only friend..." he added, his voice shaking.

The longer Sherlock stared at John the more details come to his mind. Details he didn't want to know. It made his wall of ice slowly melt down and he did not want it too. John sounded so desperate though and Sherlock just knew this man had no where else to go.

But that still didn't meant Sherlock had to agree with how things had went between them. He was still hurt, but he couldn't possible let this man stay outside for the rest of the night. Sherlock's heart was cold, but not that cold.

"I was your only friend." He replied as cold as his previous words. Then he turned around, leaving the door open for John to enter.

"Just a few nights." He mumbled as he walked back up the stairs.

John stood under the rain.
He felt his soul freeze.
He felt wet to the bones.
It was all dull compared to the pain in his chest.

I was your only friend...

He couldn't believe this was happening. He had never thought Sherlock would cut me off, even when he didn't show up on his doorstep for cases any more, he thoughts he was just busy with something else, that he didn't find John interesting any more.
He didn't think Sherlock had-

He shivered, his eyes stinging.
Not even Mary's words could hurt him this way.

He was tempted to turn around and disappear, but he knew he needed to do something, he needed to fix this, it was all he had.

"What do you mean?" he finally said, stepping in, closing the door behind him and running up the stairs.
"Why 'was'?" he insisted, rushing closer and grabbing his wrist once they were in the living room.

"Sherlock," he muttered pleading. "We're friends. We'll always be."

Sherlock kept walking up, not looking back at John but he could hear the door slam and John's feet on the creaking stairs. At first he ignored John's question, thinking John should be already happy Sherlock let him in again. But then he felt a hand grasping his wrist and he turned around abtruplt, looking down on John even more then he usually did because he was standing on a higher step.

"What do I mean? Friends don't disappear for 6 months just because they found something more interesting for the time being. Friends doesn't break all contact just because they got married. You only come to me when you're alone John. You did so before after you returned from Afghanistan. You stayed, just until you found something better and then you went off. And now you're exactly doing the same. I'm sorry John, I'm refusing to be a last resort." Sherlock didn't even attempt trying to escape John's grasp, he just stood there drilling his own eyes into the other's. He had missed John, tough, but he was still hurt and it left him bitter hearted.

"Something more interesting...?" John was flabbergasted, he hadn't expected Sherlock's words and they cut through him like a knife, especially because he had always counted on what they shared.

After the ache that spread in his chest, anger also came, his face becoming red as he growled in warning.
"You stopped coming around! You were the one who had new interests you didn't want me involved in! You think I didn't read about all the cases you solved without even so much as talking to me?" he protested and rubbed his forehead in frustration.

"And I am sorry I didn't come around, I was trying to save my marriage, and you know very well Mary doesn't take well I spend my time here..."
It didn't matter any more now though.

"Friendship doesn't have an expiry date Sherlock. I waited for you three years, I mourned you for three bloody years!" he snapped eventually, the mere mentioning of that time made a tear run down his cheek and he brushed it away angrily.

Sherlock shook his head in disbelieve. "Me? Me?" He said, pulling up his nose. "I didn't came around because I wasn't welcome anymore." He snapped back at John, pulling his hand of out the doctor's grip.

He felt himself getting angry as John mentioned the fact he waiting for Sherlock for oh so long. It wasn't fair, those were different circumstances.

"I had to stay away for your own safety, John. I couldn't come back, I had no chance, you had!" Sherlock turned around, opening the door to the living room and stormed in. "You should be happy I'm even giving you shelter." He muttered as he went straight for his violin, attaching it to his chin.

"That's bullshit!" he shouted, following Sherlock to the living room, he couldn't believe he was going from one argument to another. "You were always welcome!"

He found his voice wavering, despair taking place of anger. "Why are you reacting like this? I've never stopped caring for you... I was busy trying to save my marriage, but I would have never refused to help... Jesus, you know very well I can never say no to you..." he protested, shaking his head.

"I need your support Sherlock... I can always go to a hotel if you don't want me here, but I need you... you, not the flat, I need to see your face to calm down..." he said, his breathing shaking as he tried not to cry.

"I wasn't welcome anymore John. Mary turned against you every time I even showed my face. And beside, I was sick of always running after you, it's not like you even bothered to pop in here every once and a while." Sherlock tried to keep his voice low, but it was shaking with emotions.

When John started pleading on how much he needed him, Sherlock felt his heart clench in his chest. He didn't want to give in, he couldn't give in. Not now, not yet it was too soon. He had to force every ounce of sentiment and feelings out in order to keep his distance.

"You saw my face now and you're still not calm." He knew his words didn't made much sense, but he couldn't bring himself to saying something different now. "You don't need to go to an hotel. You can stay." He said before started playing a song, making sure John wasn't able to answer anymore.

You saw my face now and you're still not calm

John fell silent.
His heart felt broken in his chest.
This was harder than signing for a divorce.
He had never felt like this when Mary yelled at him.

He felt overwhelmed as he moved towards the sofa.
Deadly silent.
Sherlock meant to him more than anyone else, he knew that, he had always known that, but still he had never been so aware of how much his happiness depended on him.
What kind of feeling was this?
Love?

He buried his face in his hands, it didn't matter any way, Sherlock had cut him off, he was not going to forgive him and John had no idea what to do.
He had foolishly hoped he could move into Baker street again.
Instead he had ruined everything.
Sherlock hated him.

He hates me
It was all he could think about.
The notes of the violin only making his pain feel more acute in his head.

Sherlock turned away from John, staring out of the window as he played a song he wrote, dedicated to John at the time he was gone. Of course John didn't knew, John hardly knew what songs Sherlock did on his violin.

His mind soon drifted off though. He had waited for John for so long, and now he finally was here again. Instead of being happy, Sherlock felt hurt and anger. Most of all because he had sworn to cut John off. But it was so difficult, seeing his friend suffer. It made him feel weak. He didn't want to hurt John, he just wanted to hold him.

No, he couldn't..

This song...

He looked back at Sherlock, this song always made him want to cry, it didn't help him now that his heart felt like it had been ripped apart.
He stood up then, and moved closer, enough so that Sherlock had to stop playing.

"I can't... listen to this one now..." he muttered, torn, hurt, but determined.
He looked into the other man's eyes. Intense.
"You are the most important person in my life Sherlock... I am sorry if I hurt you, please, please believe me when I say I did not do it on purpose..." he muttered, his hand moving to grip the other's wrist again.

"Tell me we can be friends again... I will do anything to make you forgive me, anything!" he pleaded.

Sherlock stopped playing and put his violin down. John's words were distracting and he hated getting the noted wrong. He wanted to turn around and leave, but once more John's fingers came grasping around his wrist.

Sherlock looked into John eyes, his heart was physically hurting as he listened to every word John spoke. He couldn't hear this, it was too much, even for him.

"John." He muttered, but he didn't say anything else. Sherlock leaned close and just smashed his lips onto John's, filthy and rough kissing him.

He had no idea what he was doing.

John saw the hurt in the other's eyes, and it made him feel even more guilty, he wanted to fix that, he wanted to make it all better, but he had no idea how he had managed to harm Sherlock so much.

His name was on the other's lips then, it made his heart skip a beat, and for a moment he let his hopes flare up.

Then there was the kiss.
His eyes opened wide in shock, his mouth was full of Sherlock and he felt he could choke on the other's tongue.

Sherlock was kissing him.
It wasn't possible.
But the detective was so forceful that John felt the pressure of his body pushing him back, and he had to cling to his friend's shoulders not to fall.

He was supposed to feel disgusted, he thought briefly, but the truth was that he wasn't. Things made a lot more sense now, and Sherlock felt like he was eating him needily, John could relate.

It was hot and lustful.
And when he least expected it, he closed his eyes, ready to finally return the kiss.

Sherlock kept kissing John, forcing himself on the other man more then he should have. His tongue circling around John's, desperate to feel it do the same thing. But it didn't for a long time.

But then Sherlock felt John move, he was kissing back and for a moment this was heaven on earth.

Only a few seconds later Sherlock's rational thinking came back.
John was married. He liked girls, He was just doing this in order to make Sherlock happy.

He pulled away abruptly, his cheeks colouring red almost immediately.

"God. John, I.. I'm sorry. I shouldn't.. I didn't mean.."

Sherlock was lost for words.

John felt dazed and very much confused when Sherlock pulled away, he couldn't believe he could taste him on his tongue, he could still feel him if he ran his tongue over his teeth.

He didn't have the time to adjust to the new idea, that Sherlock seemed to start panicking, and he knew he had to do something before the detective decided to storm off.

He cupped his cheeks with his hand, he looked into his eyes.
"I said anything," he muttered determined, sliding on his tip toes to kiss his lips again.
This time he was doing it, he was exploring his friend's mouth, determined to shut him up.

Sherlock wanted to protest. "John it's no-" But then he felt the heat of the other's lips covering up his again, and he just couldn't help but enjoy it.

Sherlock parted his lips slightly, giving John's tongue more access and allowing his own to join in as well. He knew well enough that he shouldn't be doing this, that John was still married. He knew he would be left hurt once this was over. But at this very moment, all of that didn't seemed to matter.

John couldn't believe he was snogging Sherlock Holmes.
The fact he was snogging a man was just as shocking.
He had spent a lot of his time telling people he was not gay, and there he was kissing his best friend within an inch of his life.

Was that why Sherlock had been upset with him? Because he secretly wanted him?

To think Sherlock could be hurt because of being attracted to him made his heart throb painfully.
He had promised himself he was never going to let anything hurt Sherlock, and he had unwillingly done it instead.

He kissed him harder, getting over the fact it was strange and he could feel stubble on the other's chin.
His tongue twisted around Sherlock's, he pulled him down a bit, making it easier.
And then he kept kissing him.
He didn't know for how long, he just... kissed him.
Enjoying the soft warm feeling that started pooling in his lower abdomen.

Sherlock felt the passion growing stronger with every time their tongues danced around each other. His hands moved up over John's back, pulling him even closer then they already were. He could feel himself starting to enjoy this and he could also finally could feel himself letting go of the tension that he had before. John was breaking down his walls...

Sherlock moved, slightly pushing John back while he kept kissing him. He moved just until he could feel John's body stopping, knowing he had now pushed John into the wall next to the sofa. He grinned slightly into the kiss, even adding more passion just after it.

He moved his kissing to John's cheek and neck and back up to his lips.

John's whole body shook as he felt the wall hit his back, he felt Sherlock press against him and he was painfully aware of the erection in the other's trousers.

It was a whirlwind of feelings he could not control, and when Sherlock let go of his lips for a second he could only pant for breath, biting his lower lip to muffle a moan.

His neck was so bloody sensitive, Mary never touched it, but Sherlock seemed to dive just for it, stripping John's inhibitions away from him.

"Jesus," he whimpered, before they were kissing again, his hand burying in Sherlock's hair, so bloody soft, he could lose himself in them.

Sherlock wasn't able to stop himself anymore by now. He was aroused, he was completely turned on and he wanted John. He wanted John to finally be his. With his mind set on that one goal, he decided to take things a step further.

His hand ran down over John's jumper, not stopping as he reached his trousers and finally ended up cupping his crotch. Sherlock squeezed it lightly before he started rubbing his hand over it.

John started when he felt the other's hand on his crotch, his eyes widening for a second as he realized just exactly what was happening.
Sherlock was fondling his crotch, and God, he liked it, he wanted to melt against those long fingers.

His mind wasn't of the same opinion though, it reminded him he was still married, it reminded him that he was not gay, it reminded him that Sherlock was his friend and this was going to destroy everything.

John never really gave much attention to his mind though.

And his back arched, his hands moved down the other's back and squeezed Sherlock's butt, oh, he had noticed just how firm it was and God, it felt so good under his fingers.

One hand then moved to the front of Sherlock's trousers, mirroring the movements that were torturing and pleasuring him at the same time, he cupped the detective's crotch, he squeezed it and then palmed it eagerly, just how he liked it on himself.