The Promise
"I'm back" John commented as he walked forwards and tapped the frosted marble headstone.
It had been just over 9 months since the death of famous Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes - and best friend of Doctor John Watson. Every other day, John would trek his way down to the oh-so-creepy graveyard that help the one thing John wished it didn't: Sherlock Holmes' body.
"It's going to be an interesting day without you, Sherlock." The doctor's voice quivered. Whether it was due to the chill in the air or to the thought of spending Christmas without Mr Holmes, John was unsure.
"Molly and Greg will be coming round later to celebrate with myself and Mrs Hudson. Did I mention that they are now together? It's quite sweet really." The doctor sat down cross-legged in front of the headstone, preparing himself to tell a story. "Molly was with this other guy -Tom I think his name was. She spent months trying to move on from you, and she 'finally did it'. Thing is, Tom's appearance was much the same as yours; scarf, same shoes, always wore a suit. He even wore the same coat as you!" John chuckled at the similarities. "She did try though. But a couple of months ago their relationship went awry. It turns out that Tom was actually closet gay. Though, if you were there you'd have deduced it from the minute he walked through the door. But anyway, Molly was devastated, bless her heart, and Greg happened to be the one who cheered her up...and it all went on from there really!" The army doctor smiled to himself, before his expression became cold and pained.
"It's going to be odd, Christmas without you." Tears came to his eyes but pushed the away with a humorous memory for the previous Christmas. "Do you remember what happened last year? For a genius, I can't believe how thick you were. How did you not realise that Molly Hooper - of all people - had a huge crush on you? I must admit though, I was proud of you; for apologising. But that was after you realised the gift was in fact for you...and after you offended the poor girl" John thought for a moment, and then chuckled when he recalled the memory of their friends reaction to Miss Hooper's dress. "Remember Greg? He couldn't keep his eyes off her! I wonder if he realised that he had his mouth hanging open."
John chatted to Sherlock's gravestone for another thirty minutes or so, before he realised that everyone would be coming round in just under an hour. He carefully stood up and brushed his trousers off with gloved hands.
"Oh, these are for you. Merry Christmas, Sherlock." The doctor took a deep breath before saying his next sentence.
"I-I wish...I wish you were here." John placed a bouquet of yellow roses on the ground as a tear trickled down his frozen cheeks. He let it flow freely, which was a cue for many other tears to come rolling out of the doctors eyes. He managed to get a hold of himself enough to force a smile. He then turned around and strolled out the graveyard; heading home.
***
Sherlock stepped out from behind the tree overlooking his own grave and bent down to pick up the bouquet of yellow roses his friend had left him.
He then noticed a small note written on golden card:
Sherlock,
Merry Christmas,
Missing you greatly,
With love, John x
The detective smiled sadly, and reached up to wipe away a silent tear.
***
"Thanks for coming guys, Merry Christmas!" John showed Molly and Greg out of the flat, but before he shut the door he grabbed the detective inspector's sleeve.
"Don't forget the 12 o'clock rule, mate" John winked and Greg blushed.
Moments later, John strolled into the now deserted flat. Suddenly, Mrs Hudson popped her head out from behind the doorway to the used-to-be-shared flat.
"Ah, well thanks for that love. The necklace is beautiful - but if you don't mind, I'm going to head off to bed. Merry Christmas, John!" John smiled at his landlady. "You too, Mrs Hudson. Thanks for all your help." Mrs Hudson returned the smile and shut the flat door. Merry Christmas...
John plonked himself onto his reddy-pink armchair and finished his glass of Whiskey. Once he had drained the glass from all possible liquid, he placed it in the sink before heading up to him room. Once John reached his bedroom, a chill immediately sunk in. He didn't particularly want to sleep in here tonight. Alone at Christmas; not even the faint noise of Sherlock's violin playing could be heard at the back of his mind and this greatly disturbed the doctor. He always heard it when going to sleep - that's what comforted him. Just as he was about to pull the covers over his half-naked body, the bed became unbelievably uncomfortable and the army doctor was reminded of the days after he'd come back from the army. He sat up right and ran his icy hand through his sandy hair.
He wouldn't mind would he?
***
John slid under the sheets in Sherlock's room, and suddenly he was engulfed in the scent that belonged to the detective. The comforting scent that instantly made the doctors heart speed up and muscles relax. The scent that could only be described to John as 'Sherlock'. No one else had such an inviting scent.
John clenched his fists around the soft white sheet, inhaling the beautiful scent of the man he was undeniably in love with. The fact that he would never see his love ever again made his heart bleed and a sob rose inside him. He didn't bother pushing the tears away and let them shed all over the pillow.
"Sherlock!" The doctor screamed into his best friend's pillow, not really caring if anyone heard. "Sherlock! Come back! Please! Please!"
He needed his best friend. He missed the stupid experiments in the kitchen; he missed the unnecessary deductions that often left people wanting to chop his head off. He even missed the snide remarks the detective made on a regular basis. He missed the deep voice that always had the last say in everything. He missed his hypnotising eyes; John could never tell if they were blue, green, grey or just clear. He missed the constantly frolicking around in a blue scarf and long Belstaff coat.
"Come back..."
Suddenly, the doctor felt a long pair of arms brace themselves round his torso. He swiftly spun around and his face collided with a man's shirt.
"Gahh!" John's voice became muffled. He tried to push the stranger away from him, but ended throwing himself off the late-detective's bed. As the dark figure stood up, John backed himself into the corner of the bedroom. The figure took 3 strides towards the doctor, but stopped once it had heard the doctor scream for it to get away from him.
"What the hell do you want with me?" Evidence of fear was laced in John's voice and the ancient tremor in his left hand had returned.
The stranger took one more step towards the frightened man in front of him and crouched down. John had his eyes clamped shut. The man raised his hand and cupped the others cheek. He smiled a little before whispering, "God I missed you Watson."
The detective leaned in and kissed the soft, fragile lips that belonged to his ex-flat mate. Unknown emotions flooded through his cold-hearted body; instantly warming him up. These feelings Sherlock could only describe as love, relief and lust. He made no effort to deepen the kiss as he knew his doctor would be confused as to why a complete stranger was kissing him. Sherlock's deduction was correct, as John's fist connected with his jaw; knocking him to the floor. He had landed in direct moonlight, meaning John could finally see the stranger who kissed him.
The doctor's eyes widened in shock as he realised who the man lying in front of him was. The loud ticking of the wall clock silenced and the sound of cars droning in the background vanished as the doctor moved to crouch in front of the detective. Without really knowing what he was doing, John raised a shaking hand and placed his fingers on Sherlock's chin. He then traced his whole face, taking in every pore, every worry line, and every ounce of his friend. John's hand moved from the detective's face and slid down his neck towards his shoulder. Within a matter of seconds, the doctor's arms were slung around the detective's neck with his head nestled into his coated shoulder, with tears spilling out his eyes.
Sherlock lifted a tender hand to the back of John's head and played with the hair on the nape of his neck. He smiled sadly to himself before speaking.
"I'm so unbelievably sorry John." The detective's voice cracked as tears began to roll out of his translucent eyes. John leant back and stared into the moonlight-lit pools of pure beautify before brushing his soft thumb against Sherlock's wet cheeks.
"Sherlock it's okay-"
"No it's not! It's not okay, John. I left you to think I was dead. I made you like this...that-that's unforgivable in my books. Please forgive me John. If you don't, I have no clue what I'll do." Sherlock looked down at his lap, taking a sudden interest in the dark grey buttons on his long coat. The doctor lifted up the detective's chin with his finger, and leant in.
After the two broke apart, John whispered into Sherlock's ear. "Does that prove that you're forgiven?" He winked and Sherlock's cheeks became adorably pink.
"I-I...I...um..." he coughed and looked up at John who was stifling a laugh.
***
"Sherlock?" The doctor looked down at his best friend who was still on the floor, now in a cross-legged position.
"Yes John?"
"I was wondering...c-could I perhaps...sleep in here tonight please...with you?" John's cheeks became increasingly red. Sherlock let out a deep chuckle before replying.
"I was hoping you would anyway."
John smiled and crawled back under the soft white sheets of Sherlock's bed. The detective stood up and removed his coat. Not wanting to make his flatmate uncomfortable quickly ran out into the bathroom to put his old tracksuit trousers and a plain white t-shirt on. He re-entered the room and slipped under the sheets. Subconsciously, he wrapped an arm round John's waist and pulled the shorter man's fragile body into his own.
"S-Sherlock?"
"Good night John." Sherlock kissed John's head and closed his eyes.
"I love you..." John whispered into the darkness that surrounded the two men. He had half hoped that Sherlock hadn't heard him, but then again, he also hoped he had.
"I love you too Watson, so so much." John spun around in the detective's arms and pecked him on the lips. The two fell into a peaceful sleep, both feeling as though they were on Cloud 9.
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Well that was...fun.
Okay, is it bad that I've watched 'The Empty Hearse' 8 times now? My head is filled with random quotes from the new episode...
Here are a few things to think about, and please feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments! :
1. What do you think of Anderson's (or Phillip's ;) ) behaviour? He's definitely changed...
2. Who likes Mary? Must admit, at first I thought I was going to dislike her because, y'know...Johnlock and everything, but I thought she's a really sweet character! So glad that Amanda Abbington (Martin Freeman's actual partner) plays her!
3. Does anyone else think that Sherlock's developed a heart over the past 2 years? And he's laughed more in one episode than he has in the past 2 series! I like it! Aha ;)
- Thanks a lot to SherlockedDoors who let me use 'the 12 o'clock rule' (poor Greg!). Please check out her books, personal favourites of mine are Beside You and the sequal, Between The Raindrops (both Johnlock).
Thank you for reading, you're all lovely x
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~Rosie x