SHERLOCK 🌟SMUTSHORTS🌟

2. Broken vow

This is not a one short....It will continue with 7 chapters one by one

Kudos to the original owner 👌
Great work

John:

When you grab his coat collar, you're sure it's to punch him, strangle him, head butt him. Make him hurt. "Again?! How could–?" Always lying. Always keeping you out of the loop. "Why didn't you tell me, Sherlock?"

You can see his form shaking and you can't tell through the haze whether the movement is coming from you or from him.

"Why–?"

It's only when you register the way your voice cracks that you feel just how unsettled you are. It's been years since you've felt your frame crumble completely out of your control. You try desperately to reach back through your memories, claw at some vestige of military dignity and discipline. You fail. You fall.

Your knees hit the ground and you wish the pain of it was stronger, something worth focusing on, something to jolt you out of this sudden onslaught.

You should have just punched him and left. You shouldn't have started this, you know he has his reasons. You can't trump his reason. But most of all, you know that you should never have put yourself in this position in front of him.

You're crying.

How? When was the last time you cried? When he died. When you thought he was dead. That's the last time you cried. That thought alone makes it so much worse. And maybe he knows, maybe he can tell that that's what you're thinking. Wait, of course he can. He's Sherlock bloody Holmes!

He's Sherlock Holmes and he's got his long arms wrapped around you in an instant. The coat is warmer than you ever expected it to be. His scarf is soft against your cheek and it's wet though it hasn't rained today and…. Oh right, you're crying in the arms of Sherlock Holmes.

Losing someone was never this difficult. Not in the war, when your friends were blown to bits all around you. Not at Barts, when you'd hear the flat line that'd signify your complete and utter failure.

No. This was worse. Death happens every day at a hospital. Death happens every day in wars. But when you watched Mary walk down the aisle you never expected you'd have to watch her die slowly from a gunshot wound less than a year later. But the pain of Mary's betrayal mutes out that grief, holds it at bay. In all fairness it isn't even her betrayal that stings the worst.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

It's a dangerous train of thought you're on. Maybe, just maybe, if he'd told you… maybe you could have….

"She was my little girl, Sherlock. She was my baby. And now…"

It hurts too much, this pain. This feeling of having your lungs squeezed out of your chest, your heart bursting. You look up at him because you need to. You look up at him because you need him.

It's the tears in his eyes that get to you. Through all the pain and confusion, it's his tear-stung eyes that render it all still. For one glorious second, everything stops.

That's when you kiss him.

Sherlock: