Human Emotions

Chapter Six

    John wasn't looking at Sherlock, he was still looking at the ground, and he was starting to shake too. Sherlock turned away again, he didn't want John to see him when he broke apart in front of him, he didn't want John to see his face. Suddenly Sherlock heard a small noise he didn't expect, he spun around quick as lightning.
    John was looking up at him, he was laughing very quietly and tears were streaming silently down his face. His round visage was broken by the widest, most blissful smile Sherlock had ever seen. "Oh, Sherlock," hushed John, his words coming out in a rush, like he'd been holding his breath, then he quickly pulled Sherlock into a tight hug.
    Sherlock was motionless, he wasn't sure what had just happened. Was John feeling sorry for him because he didn't love him back, or was he just playing along like he thought it was a joke? Sherlock wanted to believe that John was hugging him because he loved him back but he wouldn't, he wouldn't allow himself to hope that something like that could ever happen.
    "John," said Sherlock, feeling confused.
    John broke the hug, his face still glistening with joyful tears. He looked up at Sherlock, suddenly looking very worried at the expression on Sherlock's face. "Yes?" He whispered, sounding extremely wary .
    "Why did you hug me?" Sherlock said, still very confused.
    John looked twice as confused now, and very embarrassed, like he was half-convinced that this was just another of Sherlock's mean jokes. "B-because you said that you loved me,"
    "I know that I said that, and it was true," Sherlock began, "but why, did you hug me?"
    John looked suddenly ten years younger, just from Sherlock's conformation that he wasn't playing a joke. Still, John felt very bad that Sherlock still didn't understand. John smiled again, the wide one he had for when he was really and truly happy.
    "Because, you idiot, I love you back."
    Sherlock was still, he didn't move, he didn't speak, he didn't even breathe. He stood like this for about a minute, until he spoke. "Y-you, you love me too?" He didn't understand, this was not how he thought it would go, this was not how he thought it would go. He was suddenly uncontrollably happy, it felt like ten thousand butterflies had been set free in his chest, it felt like a gigantic weight had been lifted off his back. Sherlock felt like he could fly, he felt like he could do anything in the world. He looked back at John. Sweet, beautiful, hot-tempered John.
    Sherlock leaned over, he swept John into his arms, just like it had happened in his most drug-induced dreams, and he leant over further until John's soft lips met his, he cradled the back of John's head in his hand and supported his back with his other arm, this kiss was pure, but also desperate. All the years and months and weeks and days cumulated in this amazing kiss, the one both of them had dreamed of for just as long, and it did not disappoint. Their hearts pounded and their lips moved in the honest and deeply caring way that only love that is rare and pure can achieve.
    Even after the kiss broke, they stayed there a long time, just holding each other and marvelling at the fact that it had taken them so long to find happiness so simple, marvelling in the fact that they had been so close all along, but so far. Their arms were warm, their touches delicate and they held onto each other with all the grace and tenderness of a swan, bodies outlined in the light from the great clock.