Sherlock & John (A Teenlock Fanfiction)

Chapter Fifty Four - Mint

Sherlock

"Are you functioning?"

John nodded and entered the Audi.

"Good. Stay down, okay? You're getting out of here."

The first hours were a messy blur.

Sherlock's arm was hurting, and it was hard to shift... but soon, he was good at it. Unfortunately, he'd gone east instead of west, and it took twenty minutes to get back to where they'd started.

John said nothing. He was holding onto his seatbelt like it was the only thing keeping him in the car. Sherlock put his hand on his leg, and it was like he didn't even notice it was there.

They got off the highway again to get a map and some gas. Sherlock went in. He bought John Pepsi Cola and one of those mini cherry pies (his decision was influenced by the frankly alarming song playing on the rest stop's radio), and when Sherlock came back, John was slumped over the passenger door, asleep.

Good, Sherlock told himself, he's exhausted and needs some rest.

He got up behind the wheel and took some rough breaths, then slammed the pie onto the dash. How could he be asleep?

If this went how it was supposed to, Sherlock would be driving home alone tomorrow. If this fucked up shit went how Sherlock prayed it would, John would be gone tomorrow. Never coming back.

How could John sleep through their last hours together?

How could he sleep sitting up like that... how could he look so beautiful, with his lips pried open and his head slick with dried sweat?

His hair was wild and still so blonde and bright, still achingly familiar to touch.

The blonde boy. The bus person. The technicolor mistake. Sherlock tried to remember what he'd thought when he first saw him. He tried to remember how this happened. How he turned from just a boy to the only one who mattered.

And he wondered... what if I just kept on driving? What if Sherlock never stopped? Just took John in the car and drove?

Why couldn't this have waited?

If John's life had caved in a year from now, they could've gone together. He would have run to him. Not away.

For God's sakes, why couldn't he just wake up?

Sherlock stayed awake for another hour or so, fueled by Pepsi and hurt feelings. If only he had an Adderall, then he could drive forever, but the wreck of the night soon caught up with him. There wasn't a rest stop around, so Sherlock pulled off on a county road.

Sherlock unbuckled his seatbelt, unbuckled John's, then pulled him over, his head supported by Sherlock's. John still smelled like last night. Like sweat and vanilla and Violet's shampoo. Sherlock cried into John's hair until he fell asleep.

John

He woke up in Sherlock's arms. It caught him by surprise. He would've thought it was a dream, but his dreams were always awful and stressful. John had never dreamed anything that was as nice as this... Sherlock, so sleepy and warm and breath minty fresh.

Warm through and through. Someday, John thought, I'm going to wake up to this face.

Sherlock asleep was different. His lips were only slightly open, and John kissed him gently while he was still unmoving. "I'm sorry," John whispered. His skin was a soft blue, his eyelashes darker than ever. Lips full and flat, strong, arched cheekbones. He caught John by surprise, and despite his sureness that they would see each other again, he found his heart breaking. Like it didn't have anything better to break over...