johnlock love book.

in which sherlock has a breakdown.

Sherlock then walked to his room. His door was shut because of John. He chuckled at his bestfriend. So calm all the time but when he's annoyed, he's annoyed. He suddenly realized he was grinning with affection. He stopped walking instantly. It hit him so hard. John was finally his. Well, John was always his in the first place. But this, this, this is a real relationship. With real feelings and real emotions. Everything about this was real. It was swirling around Sherlock like vertigo. All the emotions hit him so hard, he had to slump against his bedroom door. He loved John. Loved. Loved. Loved him so much he could move mountains. Well, that's impossible but, it's worth a try, isn't it?

"Sherlock? Is Mycroft gone?" John shouted from Sherlock's bedroom. Sherlock barely managed a 'yeah.' His head was still spinning from all the emotions he never thought he was capable of feeling again. "Sherlock?" There was a slight twinge of worry in John's voice. He then opened the door, causing Sherlock to fall against him. Sherlock was now a mess, his eyes were red from trying not to cry. His hands were shaking. His hair was all over the place. His breathing was ragged. "Oh, Sherlock." John cooed. He helped Sherlock to his bed. Also helping him remove his shoes and socks and jacket.

"What happened? Do I have to kill someone?" John said into Sherlock's hair. He was currently sitting on Sherlock's bed, with the detective on his chest.

"No. Not at all. It's just.." Sherlock trailed away. Unable to speak. He was so afraid. So. Afraid. So afraid of John telling him no. So afraid of John rejecting him.

"Tell me, Sherlock. You know you can trust me." John urged. Ugh. He hated it when John was urging him. He wasn't able to tell him no.

"Alright. Erm.." He adjusted himself so now he was straddling John's lap. "I'll be blunt about this.. Um.."

"Go on then." John encouraged, rubbing Sherlock's back in gentle circles. It's amazing how John had a feather light touch when it comes to comforting Sherlock. Being a soldier, he always had a heavy hand. Cause of affection, Sherlock thinks.

Sherlock nuzzles his head in John's neck, a habit he's grown accustomed to in the past few hours. "I think.. No.. I know.. I know I'm inlove with you." Sherlock mumbled against John's neck. John remained silent, but he increased the pressure on Sherlock's back, quietly urging him on. Sherlock reached up to his own face and sligtly dabbed a finger to his tear-stained cheek. He then raised it to John's eye level. "See this, John? Feelings. Real feelings. For you. For the first time in so long, too long mind you, I have learned to love again. You made me feel this way. You switched on all the color. Back then, everything was so dull. Then you came, and. And, I fell. Inlove. Hard." Sherlock said this all the while he was shaking, stuttering and trying not to cry even more.

John's heart was breaking to see Sherlock like this. All vulnerable and that. He was the only person who saw Sherlock like this. And there he was, years earlier, thinking that Sherlock was some kind of robot without any emotions. Clearly, Sherlock was cooping it all somewhere in his head. It needed to get out. And so it did.

Clearing his throat, he started, "Sherlock, I love you too. So stop crying, because, it hurts me to see you like this."

"Why? Because in your eyes I'm the strong one? I told you, don't make me into your hero. I am no-"

"Shut up, Sherlock." John was now holding Shelock's head between his hands, forcing Sherlock to look him in the eye. "You are the most brilliant human I have ever encountered. You are my hero, and always, always will be my hero, no matter what. And if this," He put Sherlock's hand on his chest, making Sherlock feel his heartbeat. "This, doesn't prove that I love you, I don't know what will. Because, Sherlock, it beats for you. I was wrong, I made a mistake with Mary. But you, you, you are the one. I swear to God, or whoever may be up there, I am inlove with you, too. So, stop crying and kiss me for God's sake."

Sherlock was none less of shocked. His eyes were wide and filled with tears to the brim, almost spilling. His mouth, too, was open. To say he was flabbergasted was the understatement of the century. He had never expected John, John of all people, to love him. "You love me? Too?"

"Of course I do. I do. So much. It actually hurts there sometimes." John said, referring to his chest, where Sherlock's hand was rested.

Sherlock grinned, his beautiful beautiful grin. It made John grin, too. And soon they were a mess of tangled limbs and lips and tongue and clothes were strewn all over the floor and they were a mess of sweat and skin and John may not be able to walk for a few days and Sherlock had to restrain himself from actually devouring John, but in the end it was all worth it.