As it Should Be (Johnlock/Teenlock)

dix-sept

(A/N: This was written while listening to 'My Moon' by Mary Lambert and probably doesn't make any sense but whatever

also really short sorry)

Sherlock's P.O.V.

What was that? My genius mind couldn't comprehend the situation. But one thing was crystal clear. John was- as far as I knew, not gay. He'd been talking about Molly lots recently, which boosted my confidence in my analysis. I couldn't lose my best friend, even if it meant controlling my feelings for him. In the taxi (After giving the address), I brought up the topic quietly so the cabbie wouldn't hear.
"John...?"
"Yes, Sherlock?" His friendliness sounded forced.
"I just wanted to say...what happened was a mistake, I didn't mean to do that." The lie came fluidly, and I thought it would erase some of the uncomfortable atmosphere surrounding us. However, it did the opposite. John's face displayed several emotions in less than a second before he composed himself. To an average person, they would just recognise it as confusion. To me, however, the separate emotions were explicit. Disappointment, anger, embarrassment and...lust? No, I must have been mistaken. My feelings for him were clouding my judgement. The absolute certainty that the only person I had ever loved, and probably ever would love did not and would not ever feel the same crushed me in ways I had not, before this moment, ever experienced, and even with my immense vocabulary I could not find a word to sum up my raging emotions. The only word that came to mind was pain. Emotional pain so severe it burned and ached inside of me, so intense it drowned the flames, but didn't quench them; only froze them with its ice. They had enclosed themselves around my already aching heart and I wanted nothing more than to shatter them with a hammer, however doing so would mean doing the same to the organ they shielded. I wanted to lean across to the boy next to me, I wanted to tell him how I felt and how much I wished he could just fall in love me as much I was in love with him...This had to stop. If anyone could force themselves out of this, this undeniably inconvenient emotion, it would be me. And that's what I did, sitting in the back of a taxi with my head leaning against the window. I let my emotions run free, not in reality, of course, but inside my head. I smashed the paint pots I had so much joy in creating, I flooded the shores of my world, I burned my palace to the ground. In a taxi in London, I fell out of love with John Watson.