Don't Stray From The Light

Massacred By The Mrs.

"Aren't you hungry John?" Mary questioned finally, noticing that John had stopped eating as his brain was still working at one hundred miles an hour, trying to process everything that was still being contemplated in his brain. John blinked, nodding and trying to keep his brain concentrated now on the beans and sausage that still sat on his plate, demanding to be eaten.
"Yes, sorry. Just got lost in thought I suppose." John explained quickly. Mary nodded, not seeming to care too much about John's thought processes to question him anymore. John forced himself to eat the rest of his breakfast; however he was becoming so preoccupied with Sherlock across the café that it was becoming more and more difficult to force it all down. Finally he decided that it simply wasn't healthy to be keeping himself so distant from the one person he wanted to be close to, and so as soon as Molly went off to get some more coffee or whatever John decided that now was his chance.
"Excuse me Mary; I need to go chat with Mr. Holmes for a moment." John said quickly, dropping his silverware and jumping to his feet before Mary could open her mouth to protest. Even if she did think quickly enough to complain it wouldn't have stopped anything, for when John's mind was set there really was nothing anyone could do to hold him back.
"Mr. Holmes." John announced formally, coming around behind Sherlock and brushing his hand as discretely as he could manage against his shoulder before falling into the chair that had once been occupied by Molly Hooper. Sherlock smiled, as was his natural inclination when John appeared, yet with a quick sweet of the sidewalk he noticed that Mary was present, and that he couldn't get nearly as close as he might wish.
"Good morning Mr. Watson." He said calmly. John's heart was racing as he laid eyes once more on the man that was now so rightfully his, a man so beautiful crafted he seemed to be his own source of light on this beautiful morning. So luminescent, so pure, a man made of marble and a face sculpted by the most skilled hands! He really was a masterpiece, and with every moment he was in John's presence the desire to lean in to him was growing more and more, and the pain of their separation was burning like thousands of hot needles upon his skin! With the ever increasing 'just go for it' attitude that John now possessed it was almost impossible for him to stay seated in his chair, not when Sherlock was once more so close and so accessible! All he had to do was lean in; all he had to do was summon the man's lips to his own!
"It has been a while since I last saw you." John said sarcastically. "How as your night?" A smile appeared on Sherlock's face as he just shook his head in something of mock exasperation. He simply leaned over heavily on his hand, smiling at the man across from him as if he still couldn't believe what a fool he had courted.
"My night was wonderful. The best night I've had in; well in as long as I can remember." Sherlock admitted with a grin. John blushed; he really couldn't help it, for that really was quite the compliment.
"For as long as you can remember? Just how far back does your memory stretch, Mr. Holmes?" John wondered curiously.
"Oh for a long while, I do assure you. Since I was a child." Sherlock assured.
"Well then, you must have had some very good company." John said with a grin, to which Sherlock could only shrug his shoulders and lean back once more.
"Adequate, to say the least." He agreed. John raised his eyebrows threateningly, for over the years he had enough feedback from women to know that he was more than just adequate, and of course Sherlock had to realize that! Unless his expectations were set really high, John really did have no doubts about last night being his best ever.
"Rude." John murmured, however Sherlock broke out into something of a fit of giggles, something that John really had no choice but to join in on. Sherlock's smile was enough to bring a smile to his face, and of course when that childish little grin appeared John could only appreciate it by joining it. Sherlock seemed so stark and serious, however deep down John understood that he was simply an easy going, attention seeking child who loved to have a good laugh and mess around as much as he might be allowed to.
"You know I'm lying, John. My night was truly, without a doubt, the most enjoyable night with someone I had ever had." Sherlock admitted carefully, while John nodded his head in agreement.
"I didn't have a half bad night myself." He agreed. Sherlock grinned in appreciation, and of course John returned that grin. Sherlock deserved it, after the wholesome compliments he had been giving out so carelessly. A passerby, if they had overheard the whole conversation, very much might be able to piece together the truth from the sentences they had been exchanging. However there was something rather exhilarating about lingering on the verge of being caught, something exciting about maybe being forced to admit his love after all. How wonderful it might be to be able to admit his love publically, despite the criminal he would be pegged as, despite the treachery he would bring upon his wife and unborn child, oh but it felt like it would be worth it! It felt like it was almost necessary! Nevertheless John stayed quiet. Instead of reaching over the table John thought a more acceptable act would be to check the time on his stopwatch, and it would seem that only disappointed awaited on the hands of the little clock. Evidently that disappointment was evident on his face, for while John sighed heavily he saw out of the corner of his eye Sherlock repositioning himself in his chair, looking equally upset.
"You need to go." Sherlock presumed in his deep voice.
"I need to go." John agreed with a groan, nodding his head ever reluctantly and getting to his feet. He looked off towards his wife, who was thankfully keeping up something of a conversation with Molly while they both waited for their love interests to stop flirting. Well at least they had each other now; they could quite possibly bond over their love that was never returned while Sherlock and John went out around back and made out next to the bins.
"Good morning, Mr. Watson, and do try to keep quiet as you go about your day at the station. Mr. Trevor and his...well let's say preferences, is completely off the record. You know not from me, but from your own casual observations." Sherlock muttered quietly, having risen to his feet so as to give John a proper farewell for the second time this morning.
"Yes of course. I'll keep your name out of it. I do feel it necessary to say that Greg suspects you, so your personal assurance that you have done nothing wrong gives me the moral ground I needed on which to stand and defend you. I believe you are innocent Sherlock, and I will do my best to convince him as well." John promised quietly. Now they were quite close, whispering to each other without any second thoughts about the proximity they were creeping to in this very open, very public place. Any passerby could look into the café and notice the two; well even John's wife could notice them here! And while he now felt something of an invisibility standing with Sherlock, he knew that come five minutes if his wife had even so much as glanced at him he would find himself sitting up on the bed getting yelled at. She was becoming defensive of him, especially when it came to Sherlock, for it was obvious that she knew something out of the ordinary was going on. Now whether or not she suspected an affair was truly beyond John, for to be honest it did sound quite absurd. No one considered homosexuals to exist in their day to day life, and it was even harder for a woman to imagine that her own husband could now have found a liking for men! She wouldn't suspect it unless she had help, a voice whispering in her ear and reminding her of what might become of her relationship at the hands of the beautiful man cloaked in black that now stood with his lips so close to John's ear, whispering their little secrets before John had to depart to the station.
"I thank you for your security, Mr. Watson. I thank you for everything." Sherlock muttered finally, being the stronger of the two of them and taking the liberty of stepping away when John found it entirely out of his power to do so much as step away.
"And I thank you as well. For your hospitality and for your discretion." John agreed with a nod of his head, to which he could swear he noticed a little smile emerging on Sherlock's lips.
"Anytime. And I do hope to see you soon. Write to me, if you will?" Sherlock suggested.
"I will." John promised, smiling ever so daringly up at the man who he had come to love so passionately. Every curve in his bone structure, every gleam in his elaborate eyes, every crease in his white skin, well John loved every bit of it! He wanted every bit of it; once more he wanted the pleasure of having Sherlock's entire face, his entire body, entirely to himself. Where it would be acceptable once more to run his lips over Sherlock's cheek and over his neck, where it would be appreciated if he wrapped his hands around Sherlock's thin waist and maneuvered him as he saw fit against the wallpaper. A café was not the place, nor was eight o'clock in the morning the time, for such actions. Yet they were tempting all the same, and John could swear that he would give his soul for just a single peck on the lips before he departed! Something innocent, almost domestic, a simple kiss that would be looked upon as nothing more than mundane had it not been shared by two men! Something beautiful yet simple...and something he could never have.
"Good morning, Sherlock Holmes." John muttered, and with a small pained smile he stepped away and back towards where his wife was still sitting there chatting away.
"Mary I need to go into the station, have a lovely day." John insisted with a smile, patting her on the shoulder so as to announce his departure. He had attempted to slip out before she could express any sort of intimacy; however she caught his arm in her hand just as it was sliding away. Her goodbye kiss was unavoidable, and it was almost terrifying to think of what might be said through such a thing. Not only was John worried that Mary could taste the infidelity on his lips (for while John wasn't regretful he was nonetheless a little bit afraid), but he was afraid that his tone or his attitude might have changed from last night to this morning. He was afraid he didn't have the same energy to his morning goodbyes, maybe not the same feeling or the same passion that might be expected from a gentle and routine farewell. The other side of the spectrum worried John as well, he didn't want Sherlock to see him with Mary, despite the other man's obvious awareness to the fact that John was married he still probably wasn't happy to see it displayed so publically. It must be hard to see the man you love kiss someone else; even if you understand that he has to. Sherlock had no right to be jealous, at least not in the public eye, and so it was all he was allowed to do but politely look away while John and Mary pecked their final farewells. And just like that, John was off, staring off towards the sidewalk and hailing a hansom to take him to the station, leaving his wife and his love behind on the sidewalk to mourn in his absence.