Loving The Sociopath (Johnlock)

The Weeping Tree

It'd been 497 days, 5 hours, 32 minutes and...30 seconds since Sherlock had faked his death and every day he had to sit writhing in pain whilst John came to visit his grave and cry.

He hated it. All he wanted to do was to get down from this blasted tree and wrap his long slender arms around John's perfect little body. He want to brush away his tears and comfort him.

He wanted to tell him how much he loved him, and how long he'd loved him for.

"Hi Sherlock"

Sherlock straightened his back and peered down to his own grave. John had come again.

"So, I went to my therapist again today. Spoke through a lot of things with her; accept the one thing I can't tell her. She tried to get it out of me but I stayed firm. After a while she told me to come down here and tell you. She said it'd make me feel better - and for once, I think she's right. So, here goes: Sherlock, since the moment you made that deduction on our first case together I've thought you're brilliant. But, as time went on my thoughts changed. I-" Sherlock's heart fell into the pits of his stomach. Did John not like him?

"I love you Sherlock Holmes!" John collapsed onto his knees and put his head in his hands. Within seconds, the detective could see his loves body shaking. John was crying.

"I love you so much, I can barely breathe! I love you, I love you! I love you!.."

Silent tears travelled over Sherlock's defined cheekbones. He tried to stifle a sob, but it left freely out of his mouth. John looked up at the tree in confusion.

"As if a tree would cry" He thought out loud.

Sherlock had had enough of seeing John like this. It was killing him slowly and he couldn't do it anymore. He carefully and quietly climbed down the tree and made his way over to John's crouching body. He walked around John and carefully wrapped his arms around the doctor.

John gasped and turned around, resulting in him falling on the floor. His eyes raked over the tall figure in front of him. Battered dress shoes, tight-fitting suit trousers, slightly greying white shirt and black blazer, long coat...blue scarf...cupid-bow lips...almost translucent eyes...brown...curly...hair...

John leapt to his feet, encircled his arms round the detective and began to sob. Sherlock rubbed the doctors back soothingly and whispered 'shh' repeatedly in a calming manor. After John had stopped crying, realisation struck and he pushed Sherlock away. He then pulled back his fist and punched the taller man square in the face.

Sherlock stepped away and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I suppose I deserved that..." he muttered loud enough for John to hear.

John then approached Sherlock and popped up on his tip toes and whispered "Yes, you did" before placing his salty lips on Sherlock's soft ones.