Lessons Learned

Part 22

"Come here," John said and opened his arms. Sherlock inhaled a short, sharp breath and leaned into John's embrace. They were both damp and smelled of ocean but John didn't care. He embraced Sherlock warmly and fully. Sherlock's long arms wrapped around his shoulders and crossed over his back. Even though Sherlock was taller and had to bend down a little, he pressed the side of his face into John's coat and breathed deep. John rubbed Sherlock's long, lean back gently and held him for the space of a long moment. He embraced Sherlock until he felt the tension leave his frame and his breathing evened out then, he held on a moment more.

When he let go and pulled back, he looked into Sherlock's eyes and smiled. The time had come. John could see the open question in Sherlock's eyes, "Will you forgive me?" they asked. "I love you," they said and, " I'm inexpressibly sorry," they told him.

"Yes, Sherlock, I do forgive you," John whispered. "I do forgive you. I want to come back, if I can."

"You can always come back, John," Sherlock said and cupped one of John's cheeks thumb gently rubbing back and forth as he spoke.

John didn't mind the touching, he closed his eyes and gave himself over to the gentle sensation. It felt comforting and without thinking John reached his own hand around to the back of Sherlock's neck and pulled him into a kiss. Everything fell away from them both. The roar of the ship's engines, the gentle rocking of the waves, and the uneasy presence of Moriarty's corpse ceased to matter. Of course their first real kiss would be under conditions like these. But, what did John know of love's lonely and austere offices. During his life, love had found him under some of the oddest circumstances. It had once pounced on him at a school dance from across a crowded room of teenagers when he'd looked across the gym floor at a girl he'd known since primary school and seen her in a perfect strapless dress. He thought he had had found him at the back of a crowded pub in the form of a barmaid who'd dumped a pint of biter on him in a vain attempt to serve several drunken rugby team members who wouldn't stop singing. And finally, he thought he'd met "the one" when a beautiful schoolteacher with an adorable son entered his life and almost stole his heart. Each of these moments felt like love to him at the time, shocking, all encompassing, overwhelming.

However, this time when love pronounced itself, it felt like no other time before it. How could he feel perfect friendship, betrayal, hatred, compassion and passion all at once? It drove a bright, burning point right into his heart during that kiss and left him breathless. He poured every bit of how he felt about Sherlock of into that one physical act. He turned his head to the left, opened his lips and poured all of what he had only begun to realize about this love into the man he would never be able to forget or leave or stay away from. There had never been a kiss like this one in John's life, and chances were, he'd never have one like it again. It felt like coming home to a place he always knew was there but couldn't quite reach until now.

Sherlock received it all from him. He opened to John and took every nuance, every fiery barb, every loving caress and a moan wrenched from him as he held John close and kissed him back. He felt it all. John pushed everything he had into that kiss and Sherlock understood, finally, what John wanted him to know. He'd forgiven him, he accepted him and wanted him. Something had changed between them, some irrevocable key had been turned unlocking what had lurked there from the beginning. John loved him back! Sherlock felt it now, understood it, marveled at it. John loved him back.

The kiss ended. John took his turn at needing comfort and pressed his cheek into the detective's shoulder. Sherlock held him tightly and ran long-fingered hands through his hair. They stayed that way for a while just breathing together, watching through the boat's windows as the sky lightened and the waters calmed.