Johns POV
"Especially," Sherlock breathed, "for this". Johns stomach clenched in anticipation for what was to happen.
Oh god.
They were leaning in. He could feel Sherlocks warm breath on his face; he imagined he could hear his heart pounding just as fast as his own.
John wanted this so badly, but if something happened to Sherlock, or Sherlock didn't mean this kiss, it would kill him. Rip him clean in two.
No. He had to do this. If not for himself, than for Sherlock. Even if it would break him.
Clearing his mind, he let go, and pushed his lips against Sherlocks.
Heat spread through him like wildfire and his heart beat so hard he was legitimately worried for his own health. Johns happiness felt like a real, tangible, living thing, residing in his chest trying to claw its way out.
He loved him - this broken, scarred man. Sherlock. His Sherlock.
Too soon, Sherlock pulled back, leaving John breathless and lost for words. His flatmate turned, and, looking at him one last time, walked out the door.
________________________
His mind was a web, thousands of ideas thoughts possibilities hopes dreams nightmares tangled up inside. John sighed, and replayed the kiss over and over.
He knew this was it. John knew that if things didn't work out between them, he would never be the same. Sherlock was the only one for him now.
He was just surprised it took him this long to realise.
Glancing over at the clock, he swore. Sherlock had been gone for hours. With any other person, this would not be a cause for concern. But Sherlock was no ordinary person. For all John knew, he was lying half-dead somewhere
bleeding out
overdosing
drowning
hanging
shooting
"Fuck!" he yelled, kicking at the wall.
Ignoring the muffled "Neighbours!" from Mrs. Hudson, he picked up his phone and called Mycroft.
YOU ARE READING
Sherlock's secret
FanfictionJohn has found out about Sherlock's self harm and is left baffled as to how to tell Sherlock about his own secret. *TRIGGER WARNING*
