Love You to Death~a Johnlock fanfic

Married Life (but of course we don't act like it)

John decided...well, we decided...okay well I suggested and John agreed that we should go out partying to celebrate our brand new accomplishment...thingy...probably the dumbest decision we ever made! I mean it was an amazing, fun night but...Where do I even start?

So we basically went out to this random night club, that we thought was just an average night club but turns out it was actually a gay club, which obviously I didn't have an issue because me and John clearly are, it just was a bit of a surprise I would say. But anyways, we got in the club, ordered drinks, sat at the bar, and just started talking. Apparently one of us or both of us had a few drinks too many because the next morning I heard from Mycroft that at 1:13 in the morning we had called Greg and said, and I quote,
"Eat the deodorant fucker, how many times has the snowflake fish in the man?"
But other than that and the incident I am about to describe to you, it was a pretty normal party night.
So it was about 2:00 am when we decided to call it a night and go back home. I don't really know what induced the attraction from me but the second he got up and stumbled around for a few seconds I took his hand, ran...well...quickly tripped, over to the next wall and pinned him. I stared him down and pressed his hands against the wall as hard as I could.
"Sherlock.. what are you-" he started drowsily but was interrupted when I pressed my lips against his, closing my eyes and shifting one of my hands to his waist. There was a good ten seconds of heavy breathing and erratic pulses until I felt another hand grabbing mine and my brother's voice.
"Sherlock, come on I need to get you two immature goldfish home."
"Wait, how did you.." I said, sounding quite baffled.
"I tracked your phone dumbass, now come on!" He said pulling me towards the door. Without another word, I grabbed John's hand and pulled him along with us, stumbling and tripping out into the cold, mystical, starry London night.

"I am SO hungover." He said, carrying a coffee mug and standing over the counter.
"Is that my flannel?" I said eyeing the oversized shirt he had over his tank top.
"Oh uh," he said grabbing and straightening out the shirt.
"Yeah, it is." He said looking over and smiling.
"It looks good on you." I said, smirking at him and looking back down at my newspaper. I heard him walk over and stand over me.
"Good enough to kiss me?" He said with a intimidating look in his eyes.
"Always." I said softly. he bent down a little as I but my hand on his neck.
After a long day for alka-seltzer and warm tea snuggled up on the couch by the fireplace, it was time for bed.
"Okay, we better get some sleep, love. I have work tomorrow." John said at 10:39 pm.
"Fair enough, let's go." I said, straining to get up and taking his hand.
"I'm going to go wash up, I'll see you in a minute." I said, giving him a small kiss on the cheek.
I got done brushing my teeth and crawled into bed with him. He look really put off, just different to what he usually looks like.
"Are you okay?" I said, grabbing his cheek and turning him to face me.
"Oh, yeah. I was just...thinking."
"About what?" I said sympathetically.
"Nothing. It's okay." He said trying to turn the other way. I scooted closer to him where almost all of out bodies were making contact.
"Come on, I'm your husband now, you can tell me what's on your mind." I whispered to him, closing my eyes.
"It's just," he started.
"I've been thinking a lot about... the accident." I said with a long sigh.
"Oh." I said, grabbing him tighter.
"Well, you know it's not your fault right?" I said, trying to comfort him.
"I mean, yeah, I guess, it's just that it was really...painful." He said, looking back at me again.
"I know." I said, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him closer to my chest. I felt something wet around his eyes.
"Hey," I began softly.
"It's okay." I finished, holding him even tighter.
"No, no, it's not." He said with a squeaky voice.
He felt really shaky, like, panic attack shaky.
"You're shaking really bad," I said anxiously.
"Do you need something?" I asked, trying to sound as compassionate as possible.
"Just, please," he said, straining his shaky voice.
"Don't leave me."
"Yeah, of course." I reassured him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it.
"Promise?" He asked, his voice still quivering but slightly slower and calmer this time.
"I promise." I whispered, rubbing my thumb across his hand.
I didn't really know what else to say. I just held him and let him cry. I think he fell asleep around 12:00 am. I couldn't though. It made me feel so terrible that that sweet, beautiful man had cried himself to sleep that night for something that was mostly on me.
I wish I could have been there with him for longer, but of course, in about a year, something terrible would happen, something that Sherlock Holmes couldn't fix. Something that would separate us for the rest of eternity. We still had time, but it was running thin. Only if I knew that it would happen and I would put a stop to it. I felt so stupid. How could I not have known? I'm Sherlock for gods sake! Sherlock fucking Holmes! It was only a matter of time until we both had to say goodbye. I didn't even make those last years count. God, I feel like an idiot.