Following the sociopath (Sher/Johnlock one-shots)

Reading Alone on The Water

"Six months out I resign from surgery. I have new Buisness cards. John Watson, M.D. Consulting detective.

Still the only one in the world."

I finished reading Alone on the Water, a fanfiction I found, and now tears were pouring at an alarming rate down the sides of my face, splashing on to my keyboard. Why had Sherlock left me to read this alone? He knew what it was about-he's claimed to have read it, but as soon as I pulled it up he got up and left. Said he had to go out.

Just then, the detective came bounding up the stairs. He stumbled a little at the top, but tried to make sure I didn't see. That was unusual, he never loses his balance, I thought. "John." He says. "Yes, Sherlock?" I try and respond, frantically attempting to wipe the tears off my face even though more are still falling, I am hardly able to get the words out my voice was wavering so much. His face softened for a moment, before going back to his usual hard mask. "John? I need you to look at my eye. I think something's wrong."

"Why would you say that?" I question him, stepping forward so I'm looking directly into his eyes, searching for something-anything that could be wrong. I didn't see a thing.

"Because I can't see out of my right one. It's completely black on that side." Oh, God...this couldn't be happening. This is was one of the things that happened in that retched story.

"Be serious. You're joking right? This can't be..."

"I'm sure it's nothing, John. I would've known if it were serious. Just look at it." My face paled impossibly more.

"You don't know that, Sherlock. You're not always right you know." I looked for a long moment into his beautiful blue-green-grey eye. There was nothing there that I could see, it worried me. I started to hiccup, which eventually turned into sobs.

"Relax, John." I stared disbelievingly up at him through blurry eyes. "My attempt at humor with you is a wasted effort anyways. I shouldn't bother wasting my breath next time." he continued on. This was all a joke? That was cruel. I continued to stare. "You... bloody bastard." He scoffed, but stepped closer and enveloped me in his arms anyways. We stayed like that for at least a few minutes, which surprised me because I didn't think Sherlock would stand for that. But he did, and I wasn't complaining. He sure was going to get an earful later, though.

We laid beside each other on the couch later that night, his head was in my lap and I was playing with his soft black curls. "Please don't ever leave me, Sherlock." I whisper.

"What makes you think I would do that?" I felt like a little bit of an idiot.

"Well, you could get bored of me, grow mad at my normalcy, or for some other reason unknown to man." I mumbled.

"Trust me, John, that won't happen." He paused for a moment before continuing. "Actually, I have something to tell you, and I'm not sure how to say it. Seeing as I've never been good with feelings or emotions, or even sentiment for that matter. But, I love you, John Watson." My detective confessed to me. I was taken aback at first. Had Sherlock Holmes, of all people, really just said he loves me? No, don't get your hopes up, I chided myself. Probably just another one of his bloody experiments. "I know what your thinking. It's not an experiment of any sorts, nor is it out of boredom, for a case, or for my own amusement. I really meant that. And I'd appreciate it if you responded." How does he do that? sometimes I swear he can read my mind. Suddenly not caring weather or not if this really was just an experiment, I spoke. "I love you too, Sherlock." I had known this for a very long time, I just never really imagined myself saying it out loud. I looked down, then, and saw that Sherlock was smiling. A genuine smile. It was one of those beautiful smiles that hardly anyone ever sees, and when someone is lucky enough to get the opportunity to see it, they simply stop and stare for as long as it lasts.

(Well, I couldn't figure out how to end that, so..sorry! In an attempt to make up for that here's another version of them reading Alone on The Water;

I walked out of my room to find John staring intently at his laptop screen. I could tell he wasn't just working on his blog or checking his email, he was also on the couch, he had intended to stay like that for a while I guessed. "What is that, John?" He looks up for a moment. "Oh, um, just some fanfictions I found. Hope you don't mind." "Not at all." I went and sat down beside him, reading his screen, he had just finished the last one, and had started scrolling through for a new story. "They make me feel less alone when you're not here." John explained. "Oh." Was all I thought of to say in response. "Let's read this one." He mutters to himself, clicking on a title of a fic. It was called Alone on the Water. Sounds interesting enough. Even though the story was beautifully written, it just kept getting worse. Not but a minute or so into it, John was crying. I snuggled into his side as he gripped me, obviously wanting to keep reading. At some point, I started to cry as well-a very rare occurrence. Eventually, we got to the point where I died. (The story version) John held me tighter than ever, his fingers digging into my back, as his tears poured down his face and dripped onto my head. I held him back ferociously. The story ended a minute later. "Please...Sherlock...don't ever leave me." John pleads, his voice broken through his sobs and hiccups. "I won't." I promised him.