Dear people who read chapter four: THIS IS CHAPTER FOUR. (if you know what I mean, you've read it.) But Wattpad deleted half of chapter four, so I had to re-write a lot of it. So sorry, but you'll have to re-read some stuff :( sorry for the inconvinence, hope you like the new ending.
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The next few months were a bliss. Sherlock and John's relationship remained a mystery to Irene, and of course, there would be consequences. Sherlock would usually hang out with Irene after classes, but have dinner with John. Since John's flat was more spacious, Sherlock had practically moved in, leaving only the necessary items at home. Sherlock had everything. A beautiful best friend, and a loving boyfriend.
Flash forward to Christmas Eve. Sherlock had invited over everyone he knew. Greg Lestrade, Molly Hooper, and, of course, Irene and John.
"Sherlock, it's so nice you're having a party," Irene exclaimed, as she plopped down on the sofa. She had come over early.
A small christmas tree sat perched in the corner, decorated with silver tinsel. Mistletoe hung from the small fireplace. The fire crackled and hissed, but cast a warm light on the flat. Outside, thick snowfall blanketed the street. Lights from flats opposite the street spilled yellow rays on the snow-covered pavement. It was a beautiful picture.
The guests filed in, one by one. Greg Lestrade and Molly came together, greeting Sherlock with a warm welcome. they had brought gifts, but Sherlock knew just from a glance what they were. He sat on the couch, barely joining in the conversation. Ten minutes after, the headlights of a cab cast ellipses of light on the snow and the doorbell rang.
"I'll get it," Sherlock waved to Irene, already at the door. He smiled as he opened it. "I missed you," he breathed in John's ear, even though it had only been hours since he had last seen him. John smiled, and looked down to a hastily-wrapped package.
"I got you something," His eyes met Sherlock's. Sherlock desperately wanted lift him up and squeeze him tight in his arms and kiss him. For just a fraction of a second, Sherlock let himself wonder what would happen if he did. What would happen if he came out to Irene.
Sherlock invited John in. Everybody welcomed him with open arms, and soon the five were engaged in conversation. As the night wore on, Molly left early, exclaiming that she was meeting some other friends, and soon it was just Irene, John, and Sherlock. No one made a move to leave.
"Sherlock, why don't you open your gifts?" Irene asked him, placing her hand on top of Sherlock's.
Placing her hand on top of Sherlock's.
Sherlock was frozen in place. He couldn't move. Why did Irene have her hand on Sherlock's? Irene, hurt, pulled away. "Is there a problem?" She asked, as if nothing had happened.
"S-sure," He ventured over to the tree and bent down as Irene's phone started singing.
I want to hide the truth
I want to shelter you
But with the beast inside
There's nowhere we can hide
Sherlock recognized the song. "Demons", by Imagine Dragons. He had heard it on the radio countless times.
No matter what we breed
We still are made of greed
This is my kingdom come
This is my kingdom come
Irene glanced at the number. "Sorry, I really gotta take this," She cast an apologetic glance and left the room.
When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It's where my demons hide
It's where my demons hide
A hand was placed on Sherlock's back. Sherlock instantly knew it was John's. "Hey, you okay?" He asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine." Sherlock stood up.
He trudged over to the couch, passing the fireplace, when John reached for his jacket, pulling him back. Sherlock glanced above them. Mistletoe.
Sherlock knew what was happening before it happened. John closed his eyes and stood on his tiptoes. Sherlock leaned forward, kissing him back. John's arms entwined themselves around Sherlock's neck. Sherlock's hands groped John's back and shoulders. The kiss deepened. Sherlock and John were so observed in each other that they didn't notice Irene sneak up.
"What the fuck?" She croaked. Hurt painted her eyes, and desperation showed on her face. "What," she started, her voice shaking. "The fuck," she was holding her phone in her left hand. Tightly. Her fingers were wrapped around it, squeezing the life out of it. Squeezing it so tight it was almost going to be crushed. "Are you doing," she croaked out the last part, mouth agape. "Sherlock, I thought..." there were tears in her eyes.
"Irene-" Sherlock started, but she was already running for the door. She grabbed her coat and tried not to face Sherlock. Her mascara was running, making black streaks down her face. She fumbled with the door handle, and slammed the door shut. Sherlock turned to John, but didn't look him in the eye.
"Oh God, Sherlock, I am so sorry. This is all my fault." John shook his head.
"W-what do you mean?" Sherlock's voice trembled.
"I MEAN THAT IF I HADN'T SCREWED UP, YOU'D STILL HAVE YOUR BEST FRIEND!" He shouted. "This is all my fault."
"John, it's okay."
"NO IT'S NOT! IT'S NOT OKAY! I know it's cliche, but it's not you, it's me. And I can't go on like this I'm not good for you." John didn't meet Sherlock's eyes, and Sherlock didn't even try to meet John's.
"John, I-"
But John was already hobbling out the door. Sherlock watched through the window as he hailed a cab, and drove off into the night. "I love you," He whispered at the frosted glass. His breath fogged up the window. A single tear trickled down his cheek.
Sherlock turned back to his flat. He stared at the one unopened present under the tree, and almost smiled, but caught himself at the last minute. John's present. He picked up the badly wrapped package. He tried in vain to deduce what was inside, but he couldn't.
Sherlock tore open the wrapping paper. In his hands he held a dark blue scarf. Then the clock struck twelve. Midnight. Christmas. He clutched the fabric, as if squeezing it could bring back the two people he held most dear. Christmas was supposed to be a time for celebration, but instead, Sherlock sat there in the darkness of his flat, mourning his friends. As the night grew older, the scarf grew heavy-laden with tears, until the first few rays of sun peeked up through the window. Sherlock squinted, his eyes raw from crying. The waterlogged scarf in one hand.
How can the sun still rise, golden and untainted as ever, knowing what pain was inflicted the previous night?
***
I'm so sorry, dear readers, for those of you who had to re-read this entire chapter just to end it with this. Wattpad deleted like half of the chapter and I had to re-write it.
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Almost Lover (a Johnlock Fanfic)
FanfictionSherlock Holmes and Irene Adler have been best friends since they were five, and that friendship has carried them all the way to Scotland Yard University, but when his world and John Watson's collide, Sherlock's world is turned upside down.
