Only Yours

7

John's P.O.V

When I wake up, the first thing I realise is how painful my neck is. I stand up and walk towards the bathroom and glance in the mirror. My neck is covered in large, purple bruises.

I suddenly remember everything that happened yesterday: the happiness he was alive, the anger that he hadn't told me, the joy that he loved me and then the guilt I had chased him off.

I didn't go and see Mary last night, I called and cancelled before running around London trying to find him and tell him that I loved him too. I want to tell him that I have loved him since we first met, since the first day, and I ruined it.

I love Sherlock Holmes.

He didn't come home last night and he didn't call. I can understand that he is angry with me but I am worrying. I make myself a cup of tea and sit quietly, waiting for him.

When he isn't back at half past twelve, I call Mycroft.

'Hello, John. Sorry about the whole thinking you were about to commit suicide thing. What do you want?' He sounds preoccupied.

I am beyond pissed off at Mycroft for knowing that Sherlock was alive and not telling me, for watching me go through all of that and say nothing, but I desperately need to talk to Sherlock.

'Hello Mycroft. I was wondering if you knew where Sherlock is, we had a bit of an argument and he stormed away in the middle of the night.'

'I know, I watched. You honestly hurt him John, although it was very funny to see Sherlock showing emotion.' There is nothing I want more right now than to punch him in the face.

We are silent and I assume he is tracking Sherlock's phone.

'John, I found him. He is at Number 44 Eaton Square, Belgravia.' Mycroft sounds worried but although I recognise the address, all I want is to find Sherlock. 'Thank you Mycroft. Laterz.' I hear him gasp and I laugh as I put down the phone and pull on my jacket. It is time to find Sherlock Holmes and tell him that I love him.

Sherlock's P.O.V

For the second time in two months, I wake up in the wrong bed.

This bed is very big and very soft. There are feathers, obviously from the ripped up pillows now lying on the floor, everywhere. I tug one out of my hair and reach for the ringing phone.

'What.'

'Sherlock, we appear to be getting into this situation more and more.'

'You are wrong Mycroft, this time I am not drunk and I know exactly where I am.' I say. And I speak the truth. I know where I am. I know what happened last night and I know that the woman, also known as Irene Adler, is currently taking a shower less than six meters away.

'Sherlock, John is coming for you.' This makes me sit upright, pulling the sheets around my waist. 'What? For your own sake, Mycroft, you better not be lying.'

'I wish I was, brother mine.'

'You didn't tell him, did you?'

'No I didn't. I can tell that he, ahem, loves you, Sherlock. Even if he doesn't realize it yet. Just be ready in ten minutes. I will talk to you later. I am not impressed with this sudden... urge to have sex with people you haven't seen in years. And I need to ask how she is still alive.' I don't contradict my brother but for once he made the wrong deduction. John loves Maria (or whatever), not me. I decide that when I see him I will convince him that I didn't mean it, that I don't love him. It is a lie but that way we can remain friends.

I hang up as The Woman comes out of the room. 'Hello, Sherly.' She is completely naked but that is the least of my worries right now. I stand up and begin to pull on my clothes. 'No, Mr. Holmes. I made a promise that I would have you begging for mercy twice when we last met. Last night you only begged once.'