Denial (John/Sherlock)

John felt himself blush at Sherlock's concern, the detective had never really been considerate towards him and it made him feel rather weak.
"I am not some sort of fair maiden, Sherlock... I am fine," he protested, his eyes following the other to the kitchen.

"Is that why you haven't even given me a good morning kiss? You think I will break?" he asked with a grin.

"You are fine?" Sherlock asked questioningly, glancing down at John's leg. "Your limp tells me you might be a bit...sore. I'll...try to be more gentle next time."

He managed to find the tea bags and chucked a couple into the mugs, before pouring in the hot water and grinning back towards his flat mate. "I'd love to give you a good morning kiss," he replied. "If you want me to."

"Of course I am sore, I have never done it before... but that doesn't mean I am not ready for another round..." he pointed out simply. "I am not weak... and maybe I might even like a bit of pain..." he confessed, blushing slightly.

"Of course I would like that, Sherlock... kisses are the best part of being in a relationship..." he pointed out as he looked at his hands.

Sherlock abandoned the tea making and headed towards John. He wrapped one arm around his waist, and with the other reached out a long bony finger to trace a line from his neck to his chin, slowly lifting John's face slightly to look at him.

"I'm sorry John...I've never...I've never been in a relationship before," he said, before leaning in to give him a gentle but lingering kiss on the lips.

The hand that was around John's waist now moved slowly down to his bottom and gave it a playful squeeze. "Maybe you can have me next time," he whispered into the kiss, "I think I'd like that."

John wanted to reply to that, he really did, but his voice seemed to die in his throat when he felt Sherlock's finger tracing his neck, sparks flying in his vision and he could just close his eyes to enjoy the kiss.

It was hardly enough though, and he found himself raising his own hand, burying it in Sherlock's ebony locks and tugging slightly. He pulled him close again with a groan, pressing his lips to the detective's and sliding his tongue inside his mouth. He took a few seconds to explore his taste, to feel everything of him before he pulled away.
"That's more like it," he said with a grin.

"And yes, it might be nice to do that too," he said with a nod, trying hard not to imagine it already, he didn't need to go to Mary with a raging hard on, he was rather sure it wouldn't give the right message.

"The toast," Sherlock said smirking. "Let me make you the toast. And stop distracting me."

He headed back through to the kitchen and searched around in the fridge for some margarine. It had been a long time since he'd made breakfast, and maybe sticking a couple of slices of bread in the toaster didn't exactly constitute as "making" but it was a pretty big deal to Sherlock. He wanted to do this though, for John.

He buttered the toast and took it over to him, along with his cup of tea. "Here you go," he said with a smile.

John smiled when he was handed toast and tea, the satisfied expression on Sherlock's face was adorable to say the least. "Thank you, Sherlock," he said with a blissful grin. "You would make a wonderful wife," he teased him, before he started on his toast.

"Sometimes I really thought you couldn't possibly make your own tea, you know," he joked, leaning back on the chair.

Sherlock grinned and sat down. "Please don't assume I'm going to make a habit of it."

He watched John eat, mesmerised by every detail, every line every feature on his face, memorising it. The thought of John leaving, going anywhere, even just for a short amount of time, simply broke his heart. It was totally irrational.

"I can't believe you could do this to me John," he suddenly said rather bitterly. "Make me....'fall in love'".

John grinned at the warning, he surely didn't expect Sherlock to do anything for him at all, but to tease him was just stronger than anything else.
He felt a bit on the spot though when the detective started staring, and the words made him blush furiously.
"I am not some evil queen who made an enchantment, Sherlock... don't make me feel bad about it..." he muttered, finishing his tea.

"I didn't make you fall in love... but at the end of the line, I am very glad you did, I intend to make you happy, if you will allow me..." he stood up, and kissed the top of his head. "For starters it'd be nice if you weren't so bitter about it... I think you graduated to full fledged human being with this, it's an accomplishment..." he teased him.

Sherlock smiled slowly out of one side of his mouth. "I suppose I should take that as a compliment," he mused, and watched John return his plate and mug to the kitchen.

"Is Mary coming here or are you going to her?" he asked.

"Not particularly, but you may do so," he joked, and grinned at him, his smile falling off as Mary was mentioned. God, he still felt so guilty. "No, I am going to her, I didn't think it was a good idea for her to see... well, you..." he admitted with a guilty expression.


((Thought they should have a first fight at her place, and then she might come over after a while to plead John and tell him about the fake pregnancy?))

"Hmm." Sherlock nodded. "I suppose you're right."

He looked at his watch. "I'm going to miss you when you're out. Try not to be too long."



(( That sounds fine!! ))

John looked at him weirdly: "You are going to miss me?" he repeated, not believing his ears. "I am going to be away a few hours at most... depends how she takes it..." he said, feeling himself growing more serious. He felt heartless at the idea of planning a break up. He was usually the one getting left behind.

"I should probably go..." he said, standing up and stretching a bit.

Sherlock stood up too and approached John carefully, wrapping his arms around him and bringing him close into his chest. He closed his eyes and inhaled the smell of his hair deeply.

"Of course I'll miss you," he muttered quietly. "I always miss you when you're out. Why d'you think I text you all the time?"

He kissed the top of John's head then let him go.

"I'll see you soon then. Good luck."


(( are you going to write the scene between John and Mary then? And Sherlock can send annoying texts! ))

"Mm, I finally discover the real reason behind your texts, interesting," he commented, slowly pulling away.
He looked at Sherlock for a long moment, before he gathered his keys and wallet and walked out with a soft see you later.

It was still difficult to think they would be together now, that he could think freely about all the things he wanted to do to him, or more simply, he could curl up against him at night if he wanted to... would Sherlock want that?

He sighed, deciding to put his thoughts away now, he needed to think about what to tell Mary.


It turned out it was harder than he thought. Mary didn't want to talk, or better she didn't want to listen, as soon as John came in looking grave, she had started rambling about wedding preparation and possible dates, how happy her parents were going to be, and John hardly got a word in.

Finally he snapped.
"Mary, no, it's off, we aren't getting married!" he exclaimed, his mouth closing right away after that, guilt pooling in his chest.

"What?"

"I can't marry you... and as a matter of fact-"

"No, John, we have talked this over and over, you agreed, you said it was fine! You are moving in with me next week!"

John shook his head, he didn't even remember agreeing to all that. "I am sorry Mary..."

"Are you serious? After all these years? You want to stall again? John, you need to grow up! You can't possibly stay a bachelor forever! I thought it was what you wanted!" She started, her eyes blazing with annoyance.


((Okay, I won't make it too long though ^^ ))

After John had gone Sherlock felt a familiar emptiness inside, an odd hollow feeling accompanied by increased levels of anxiety. The first thing he did was take a shower. He still felt grubby and smelly from the previous night's activities.

As the hot water splashed over him he allowed his mind to settle slightly. Things would be all right now. He wouldn't have anymore dreams and wake up feeling frustrated, and he wouldn't have to vent that frustration by sleeping with women who made Anderson look smart. He could have his John...whenever he wanted. And now he could refocus his mind back on his work. He'd been so distracted lately, since all this started, and he was sure it was starting to affect his concentration when he was out on crime scenes and so on. Not good.

Feeling refreshed and satisfied, Sherlock headed to his room and put on a pair of pants and a nice clean shirt which had also recently been ironed by Mrs Hudson, then he picked up his phone and checked his messages. Nothing yet today, although it was only early. With a small but wicked smile he began to type a message to John:

Remember not to mention the table incident.
SH

John looked at her sheepishly, he felt guilty, especially because she still seemed to have no idea that he was here to break things off for good.
"Mary, I just can't. I was fooling myself and you thinking I could have a life away from-"

His phone beeped loudly in that second, and out of habit he took it out of his pocket.

Mary was seething.
"Is that Sherlock?" she asked, her voice growing loud. "It's always him, isn't it? You just can't stand the idea of being away from the cases, you are a bloody addict!"

John frowned, rather offended. "It's my job."

"No, it's not! You are a doctor! You are not supposed to be his baby sitter!!" she snapped, grabbing the phone and reading the message before he could see it.

"Remember not to mention the table incident?" she said confused, John blushed furiously, but luckily enough she did not notice.

"What's this thing that you aren't supposed to mention?" And then she realized something. "Sherlock knows you are here to back out of the wedding?" she hissed, and one could tell she wasn't taking it well. "Did he convince you to do this? Are you letting him manipulate you?"

"Sherlock doesn't manipulate me!" he protested, even though he knew that it wasn't entirely untrue. He let him though.

"Oh John, don't even start."

"Mary, it's over, I... I can't go on any more, I cannot be with you... it's over," he finally snapped, Mary falling silent in shock.

Sherlock threw himself down onto the sofa and chuckled, imagining John's face as he read the message. It was quite naughty of him, he reasoned. He probably should just leave him to it. He was after all, in the middle of breaking off a marriage, quite a serious situation.

He cradled the phone in his hand and closed his eyes, idly exploring his Mind Palace for a few minutes. With some annoyance he realised John hadn't text back. He opened his eyes and looked at his watch, but knowing the time didn't really help much as he had no idea what time it was when John had left. It felt like he'd been gone for days. He typed another message and sent it:

Are you on your way home yet?
SH

His phone beeped again, and Mary became livid.

"Is he actually telling you what to say? Is that what he wants? You leaving me?" she shouted, and slapped John across the face.

John stepped back, holding his cheek, hurt.
"It is my decision Mary... don't drag Sherlock into it..."

"As if he didn't have anything to do with it!!" she protested, unreasonable.

"Mary, calm down, please,"

"I am not agreeing with this, I don't want this, John, please, you have to think it over..." she pleaded, trying to grab his hands.

John stepped back. "I don't... no, sorry... I can't be with you... I am sorry..."

Sherlock paced the flat anxiously. God knows how long John had been out now. He realised he could at least deduce a certain amount of time based upon the gap between the two text messages he sent. He glanced through the sent box of his phone. 7 minutes between each text. 7 minutes? Was that all?

But how long since John left? At least an hour surely? Sherlock began to worry that he'd changed his mind. Maybe he started to think it was all a big mistake, that he'd be better off with Mary, settle down, have kids, leave Baker Street, leave Sherlock. Oh God. No...He took out his phone again and quickly fired off a text.

Have you changed your mind? I haven't.
SH

Mary moved closer, grabbing his hand and clinging to it. "Please John, we've been together for so long... it's okay if you don't want marriage yet, I still don't think we should break up..." she insisted.

John closed his eyes, trying to gather some courage. "I am sorry Mary," he mumbled.

"Stop apologizing! Give me reasons!" she insisted, a few tears running down her cheeks. "Give me reasons why we shouldn't be together! We are perfect for each other John!"

John looked stricken, "You have been very good with me Mary... but I just... I never felt... right."

"Then why did you stay for so long?" she shouted, the beep of his phone interrupting them once again.
She groaned. "What does he want now? Why does he keep texting you?"

John felt his heart clench in his chest. "I don't know... but knowing him, he is probably worried..." and all he wanted to do was run back to him.


((Am I too cruel making Sherlock wait more? ))

Sherlock sat on his favourite armchair and hoisted his knees up to his chin. Still no message back from John. And still no sign of him returning. He turned on the television and flicked through the endless channels of rubbish, anything to keep his mind from thinking about John....why wasn't he here yet?

Surely it didn't take that bloody long...All he had to do was say he wasn't interested anymore...knowing John he'd be beating round the bush, trying to be delicate rather than just coming straight out with the truth. John should have sent him to do it. Sherlock would have broken up with her and solved two crimes on the way home by now. He smiled to himself, imagining it. Then he took his phone and sent another message:

You should have sent me to do it. Maybe you should mention the table after all.
SH

"Please John," she continued, he pulled away, seeing her tears were making him feel guilty, it was almost painful in his chest, especially knowing he had cheated so blatantly on her.

"I am sorry Mary... there is someone else," he admitted finally, and she looked shocked.

"What?"

"I am in love with someone else."

"That's not possible..."

His phone beeped once again and he grimaced.

"Him?" she protested, and groaned. "I knew it! God! The way he looked at you! And the way you-! I can't believe it you fooled me like that, John!"

"I haven't... I didn't do it on purpose... I though-"

"Nonsense! You are gay and you can't even admit it to yourself!"

"I am n-" he stopped himself, he was so used to denying that. "I am sorry, Mary..."

"Just fucking go! Go away!" she shouted, and he nodded, trying not to look to relieved of being allowed to leave.
Finally.

"I am sorry Mary... please forgive me," he said, feeling horrible leaving her like that, but there was nothing he could do, so he stepped away, feeling himself grow anxious as he stepped out of the apartment.
So he was gay now, wasn't he?

Sherlock was practically tearing out his hair waiting for John to return. He was almost convinced by now that Mary had managed to change his mind somehow...that maybe he would never even come back. He'd just send someone round for his things and Sherlock would never see him ever again. Oh God...please John....Sherlock silently begged for his return.

He took his patches out of the drawer and stuck them all over himself...the only way out of this mess was to lose himself in a haze of nicotine. He lay back down on the sofa feeling dizzy and texted John again through bleary eyes:

Baker Street at once. I don't bloody care if it's inconvenient.
SH

When he heard his phone beep, John was already half way to Baker Street, he had forgotten about the texts, too worried about his own thoughts and what he had just done.
He cursed under his breath realizing it was probably the fifth time Sherlock had texted him already.

There was a smile on his lips when he read the first text, but it disappeared quickly as he read the rest.
He had been right, Sherlock was worried.

Would he really think he'd change his mind like that and bail on him?

On my way. -JW

He sent just the simple text, too busy hurrying down the street, the walk becoming a run.

He was panting and red when he burst into their apartment, tired from the run and his expression worried as blue eyes looked for Sherlock.