As soon as the door closed behind Victor, however, Janine dove off the couch and pressed the stop button on the VCR, staying in a crouched position even as the TV went black, and together they got to listen to the horrible buzzing that was produced when nothing was being displayed. For a while Sherlock just sniffled, wiping his tears off of his face and waiting for Janine to say something, anything really. He didn't want to make the first word, and maybe she knew that, for it seemed as though Janine was staying silent as well. She just stayed on the floor, finally sitting back against the edge of the couch and shaking her head in something of defeat, staring at the blank screen in something of agony.
"Janine it's not what it seems, it's not what..."
"Then WHAT WAS IT? What were you doing Sherlock, with a student, with a bloody teenager you disgusting thing, you horrible..." Janine started, halting her own words as she just shook her head in defeat.
"It's not that, he's not a teenager, that's the thing! He's an undercover cop Janine, he's not seventeen he's twenty four, he's here to investigate drugs, he'll arrest Victor, he'll confiscate the tapes, it'll be alright, you'll see Janine, it'll be alright." Sherlock promised, walking steadily closer to his trembling wife before her glare halted him. She didn't want to be comforted by him, she didn't want to be comforted by the same arms that had held that trembling boy, she didn't want to hear anything from the lips that had been pressed all over his adolescent skin. And yet it wasn't what she thought, it was nearly as bad, it was...well it was going to be fine! It had to be fine.
"You idiot, you absolute idiot." Janine breathed, shaking her head mournfully, cradling her head in her hands and releasing a fresh bout of sobs. Sherlock was actually quite confused, for he had thought the news he had just delivered was good news. It seemed to upset her, for whatever reason, as if Sherlock's liberation came as something of a disappointment.
"What's the matter?" Sherlock whispered, walking ever closer before Janine held out a hand to stop him. Once more Sherlock was halted in his tracks, for he really wasn't daring enough to push his wife's limits, at least not right now. She seemed to be an emotion wreck, maybe not sober either, and she had just witnessed her own husband with another man, one she saw as sinful.
"I'll let you figure it out, Sherlock. You know everything, don't you? You know that this is all just going to work out because you think this is some sort of fairytale, don't you? You think that someone like you actually deserves a happy ending?" Janine growled.
"If not me, then he does. John Watson, he's more than good." Sherlock whispered in assurance, for he knew that if anyone would be his saving grace it would be John Watson. He was going to be the one to protect him from all bad endings, he was going to be the one to swoop in and save the day, Sherlock's knight in shining armor! It was about time.
"I'm going to bed. Don't follow me, you disgusting man, you stay on the couch." Janine growled. "You can watch it, if you want. I saw that you weren't paying attention, but now that you're alone maybe you'll find more enjoyment."
"I never want to watch that thing, I never...we can destroy it! We can burn it, I don't want it, I don't WANT IT!" Sherlock exclaimed, suddenly released the anger that had been pent up in his chest for the entirety of Victor's visit. Janine simply wouldn't have it, and probably rightly so. She didn't want to listen to Sherlock's childish excuses; she didn't want to listen to him complaining. She wanted nothing more than to be rid of him, and to be honest she had every right, Sherlock would want to be rid of himself if he had the chance to be. He could understand how Janine was disgusted; he could understand why she wanted to run. Within only a few seconds the slamming of the bedroom door announced that Sherlock was indeed alone, and for a moment he just stood there, wondering what on earth he was supposed to do now. Just wait it out, presumably, wait it out and just hope that Victor wasn't smart enough to catch on. Sherlock sank into the couch cushions, staring at the black screen and wondering all that it had just displayed. From his own point of view Monday night had been beautiful, and yet how could an audience understand that? How could they see their love as anything more than just wrong? How could anyone understand the weeks they had struggled through to get there, how could they understand the longing that both men had held in their hearts for so long? How could they appreciate the milestone that had been crossed, just by the simple act of John falling into Sherlock's arms? It wasn't a thing to be appreciated; it wasn't a thing to be watched. It was sinful; it was a disgrace not only to their love but to their freedom as well! To be held in check by something so useless, Victor didn't even know what was coming, now did he? For a moment Sherlock stared at the screen, for the longest moment he was tempted to rip the tape out of the VCR and destroy it now, so as to ensure this particular tape wasn't a part of whatever downfall Victor was trying to coordinate. And yet he remained still, for he really could find nothing else to do. He sat still because he didn't know what the future might hold. This tape very well may be the only thing that was left of their love, come a day or two, after Victor had his way. This tape may have immortalized the feelings that Sherlock would soon have to forfeit, and so how could he destroy it? How could he destroy the love he was fighting so hard to protect?
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Secrets Aren't Made Slowly
FanfictionJohn was far past expecting to be accepted for who he was at his new schools, and so he long forgot who he actually wanted to be. Yet there is something different about this school, something different about the young insufferable calculus teacher w...