Secretly I Think You Knew

You Must Always Follow The Rules

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" Sherlock exclaimed, rushing to his feet and trying to help John up. John however rather liked this angle of view, with the light beaming down on top of Sherlock's curls and his pale face shadowed, so he stayed there, laying in the sticks and stones and staring up at this beautiful idiot.
"Never do that again." John suggested. Sherlock sighed, crossing his arms and pouting a little bit.
"I'm sorry." He repeated. "I panicked."
"Really? I didn't take you for someone that panicked." John snapped, pulling himself to his feet and wiping the dirt out of his hair. Sherlock just looked at him, watching as he brushed off the stray sticks and leaves from the back of his shirt and as if it were the most interesting thing he had seen in a while. John paused, looking at Sherlock looking at him, and smiled rather accusingly.
"I thought looking at me made you uncomfortable?" John asked. Sherlock blinked for a moment but couldn't think of anything to say.
"No, I said you looking at me made me uncomfortable." Sherlock pointed out.
"Oh, yes I remember. But you don't want me to stop." John agreed. Sherlock took a small step back, as if worried John would try to make a move again.
"Don't worry; I'm not going to do anything stupid like that again. I don't know why I did it, honestly." John admitted.
"I'm sorry I ran." Sherlock muttered. John looked up at him with a sort of smile, Sherlock was sorry? Did he regret it?
"I'm sorry I tried to kiss you." John agreed. Sherlock took a sharp breath, as if not expecting those words to come out of anyone's mouth.
"I appreciate the gesture but John; I came here to say that I can't do...whatever it is you want me to do. I can't kiss you, I can't be with you, we can't ever be in a relationship. I wasn't meant to be in a relationship." Sherlock pointed out.
"No, Sherlock, you definitely are. Mycroft just won't let you." John pointed out.
"Yes, well, I suppose so. But Mycroft is here, and therefore I had to come..." Sherlock took a deep breath, his eyes looking pained, a look John never wanted to see in his eyes, defeat, sadness, regret. "I had to come to say goodbye." He finished. John looked up in surprise, his mouth slight open as he gazed at Sherlock in the moonlight.
"Goodbye?" John muttered. He saw a single glittering tear roll down Sherlock's cheek, as if he hadn't expected this to be as emotionally tolling as it ended up to be.
"I can't put you in danger John; I can't ever let Mycroft... I can't let him hurt you, I can't let myself hurt you, you're safest if you stay away even if that means I hurt myself even more." Sherlock insisted, quickly, wiping the tear off of his face as if worried John would see. John was awestruck, honestly. He thought that Sherlock had come for a moonlight kiss, an exchange of emotional heart filled apologies and a lifetime of secretive happiness. He never imagined this would be the last visit they shared.
"I'm not going to leave you Sherlock, you still need someone, you need someone to talk to and to be friends with, someone to protect you from your brother and from yourself." John pointed out, watching as Sherlock blinked away more tears that would be invisible if not for the moonlight catching them, making them sparkle along his pale cheeks. In the darkness even tears were beautiful.
"How can you save me from my brother if he can never know you're there?" Sherlock asked with a sad sort of laugh. "You can't protect me from him at home, you can't make sure he doesn't hurt me, or starve me, or abuse me. What can you do except put us both in danger?" Sherlock muttered, his voice cracking with emotion. John felt his own tears welling up in his eyes, no, surely this wasn't goodbye. The most beautiful, the most amazing person he had ever met wasn't just going to walk out of his life so easily.
"What if I can?" John insisted, not knowing any way he could actually protect Sherlock, but he had to think of something quickly.
"How?" Sherlock muttered, looking very much in need of a hug.
"I could call child services, get the police involved." John suggested.
"No, no police, I don't want to make a big fuss. He may be horrible, but he's the only family I've got. An orphanage wouldn't suit me." Sherlock insisted. John sighed, searching for anyway he could avoid this.
"What makes you so certain I'm in danger?" John asked.
"There are things you can't know John, things you wouldn't like to know. But trust me when I say the farther you are from me the safer you are." Sherlock insisted. "And I can't ever see you hurt, not the only boy who...not the only one who loved me." More tears started to fall upon Sherlock's cheeks but he made no move to wipe them away, he looked like he wanted to get closer but he simply couldn't bring himself to. John was nearly paralyzed with shock and regret that he couldn't move as well, so they just stood there, staring at each other, broken beyond words.
"I can't just let you leave." John insisted, feeling a tear roll down his own face. He was so choked up that it was nearly impossible to get a word out, every word held the possibility that he could break down in a sob, and that would be humiliating. He had to stay strong, for some reason he just had to.
"Yes, I think you must." Sherlock insisted. He took a small step forward, very hesitantly and very gently placing his hand against John's cheek. John leaned into his touch, wanting to hold Sherlock's hand there forever, never letting him go. Somehow he could stop time in this moment, in this moonlit tragedy, and Sherlock would never leave him and they would always be touching.
"My John Watson." Sherlock muttered. "Goodbye." With that he let his hand slide off of John's cheek, and with a last painful glance he started off towards his car, pulling his coat tighter around himself and pulling the door open. John could only stand in the grass and stare as Sherlock disappeared into his car, not able to say goodbye, not able to say anything at all. If he opened his mouth he would scream, he would cry, if he made a single move he would run out in front of that car and pull Sherlock out of the driver's seat, he would force him to stay or he would personally drive to the Holmes household and throw Mycroft out a second story window. But alas, John simply stood heartbroken in his front yard, watching as Sherlock's car drove away, watching as Sherlock left him until the red taillights disappeared from John's line of vision and all he could do was turn around and go back into his house. Go back inside and know that he would never see Sherlock in his front yard ever again.