[Johnlock/Mystrade] Tears in rain

Chapter 15

July 2027 London Seventh year of the end of the Great Purge

Sherlock had been away on Mycroft's business for almost two months before he returned to London.

Mycroft welcomed his brother and the two of them chatted for hours before Sherlock returned to Baker Street.

Over the past two months, Sherlock had returned to being a precise machine, managing his affairs smoothly and calmly. He was calm, wise and relentlessly ruthless as he kicked away any obstacles on Mycroft's behalf without a second thought.

He rejects all distractions and strives to do the best he can with everything.

Such a Holmes is a god to be feared by all.

Never makes a mistake, never has a weakness.

Everywhere they go, nothing is left to die, nothing is left to grow.

There is nothing alive around them except each other, and only eternal solitude remains.

Sherlock headed to the club to have some fun, but he couldn't stop thinking about John. It irritated him, he hadn't thought about John in over two months, and it didn't make sense for him to be so anxious when he had just recently returned to London.

Must've been because of thirst, he told himself.

In a near rage, Sherlock shoved down a man and entered him frantically, as if that would get the image of John out of his head. The man bled and groaned from his wounds, Sherlock walked away without looking back, his wrath subsided, replaced by an overwhelming frustration.

Sherlock was thinking about the man he thought he'd never think of again.

That teal-blonde hair, those emerald blue eyes, that slightly snub nose, the disinfectant scent on his body.

Those always well-bottomed shirt, the long sleeves he wore even in the summer, and that reserve doctor who wouldn't show an inch of skin except for his face and hands.

Sherlock found himself longing for John, whose true scent he had only once smelled, whose touch he had never once known.

He wanted to strip John naked, slowly and painfully.

He wanted to stroke John's skin, every inch of it.

He wanted John's moaning beneath him, John's scalding breath grazing his ear.

He wanted to give John what he wanted, and John would be his and his alone.

He wanted John, he only wanted John.

Knocking on John's door without a second thought, despite the doctor's surprise, Sherlock gripped his hand tightly, "Let's give it another try," he said impatiently.

He grabbed John into his arms with force and inhaled deeply of the doctor's scent, it was nice, the same faint sandalwood scent he'd smelled last time.

Ignoring the doctor's struggles, Sherlock trapped him in his arms and whispered in John's ear, "Let's give it another try, love me again."

John knew that he was no match for the detective in terms of close combat. After all, the detective had been practising fighting since he was a child, and had attained a great deal of proficiency. And John developed all of his fighting prowess prior to receiving military training by helping Harry in fights. The only reason John beat him up so frequently in their earlier years was soley because the detective allow him to do so.