Since John (Johnlock)

Crossroads

Sherlock had been facing away from him before he broke the door down. As he cautiously entered he watched Sherlock glance up and meet his eyes in the mirror. And what he saw in them made John's heart stop.

Pain. Raw and aggressive. Those amazing eyes that could so clearly see through everyone else were clouded over in such agony that John couldn't breathe. Before he could take another step forward, Sherlock slowly turned and faced him. It wasn't until then that John noticed the syringe he held in his trembling hands, the needle pushing its way into Sherlock's alabaster skin, marking him in a way that made John want to howl. And howl he did.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?!?"

No...no...NO! Not again! He couldn't let this happen! Not when he finally realized his feelings for this man! Fate wouldn't be that cruel, would it? He'd already lost his parents, Harry was always so far into the bottle that he'd written her off long ago. Then the war happened, turning him into a shell of his former self. He never thought he'd be whole again, until he met Sherlock. Sherlock had given him a reason to LIVE, not just go through the motions of existence. Sherlock had intertwined himself around John's heart and soul until he no longer knew where one stopped and the other began. They completed each other. And he'll be damned if he lost him now.

Sherlock looked him in the eyes and John could see every wall that Sherlock had ever built around himself had crumbled and were long gone. There he stood: a broken man, a lost little boy.....and the man he called his best friend, although he knew now he was so much more than that. He was his reason for getting up every morning and making tea for two, the reason he finally got rid of that damn cane he never really needed and the reason he stopped waisting time seeing that damn therapist. Sherlock was his everything.

And here he was: hanging in the balance between fear, anger, and love.

Before John could say another word, Sherlock's voice could be heard, so softly that the pounding in his ears almost drowned the words out.

"John....I'm sorry...."

An apology, a plea for absolution. Not waiting for John's response, Sherlock's eyes flitted closed as he begin to push the fire into his veins.

Almost instantly, John's training overtook the fear that addled his mind and pushed him into action. Like lightning he closed the gap between them and grabbed Sherlock tightly around the wrist that held the syringe. Twisting sharply, he managed to pull the needle from his arm before the full dose was administered, while at the same time grabbing it with his other hand and throwing it into the shower and out of the way.

It happened so quickly that Sherlock didn't have time to think. It wasn't until John was standing directly in front of him that he realized what happened. John was here, fists clinched in anger but fear overshadowing his eyes which had turned from a summer's blue to a stormy gray. They simply stared at each other, a moment that stretched into eternity. And as he watched, John's eyes begin to fill with tears and pain settled over his face like a shadow. Sherlock couldn't stand it any longer.

Slowly he lifted his hand to John's face but couldn't bring himself to touch him. He didn't deserve to. John was good and pure and he couldn't bring himself to defile him with his weakness. Just as he was about to lower his hand, John brought his own up and placed it on top of his, then slowly leaned his face into Sherlock's palm. As his cold hand touched John's flushed face, he felt his breath catch. It was a sign of trust, and he knew that now more than ever, he was unworthy. He still had to make John understand.

Licking his dry lips Sherlock tried to speak but found he couldn't. He was so overwhelmed by the fact that John was still here that he couldn't even think straight. Still, he tried.