The Gay Case

Chapter 39

John Watson makes me whole.

//John POV//

I stood there, listening to Sherlock ramble on and on about how sorry he is and that maybe we should go home, but I didn't want to go home. Why would I? I'm actually enjoying this.

"Sherlock, it's fine. I promise." I smiled a small smile and turned around. Walking over to Lestrade, I turned back smilimg, pulse accelerated and lips - probably - swollen, from the kiss. That man changes me. Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock bloody Holmes is my fiancée. We're going to get married. For real! Wow... after just 6 months. Technically.

"Ah, John." Lestrade calls from the other side of the police car. "Good, right. The letter. You sure you're okay? I'd be frightened to death!"

"No, I'm fine. Sherlock's said he'll proctect me." We both laughed at the thought of it. Sherlock Holmes, jumping in front of me, John Watson, to stop a bullet. Tears threaten to fall at the thought, however. So, I stopped thinking about it. He can't leave me again.

"Sherlock." Lestrade smiled. I turned around to see Sherlock standing just inches behind me. He brought his hand up to my waist and moved to stand beside me. I pulled my arm through his and my hand found his side. "You two can go, we have all the info we need until tomorrow. If we need you, we have your number."

Sherlock nodded and looked down at me.

"Sure. Bye, Greg." Lestrade nodded in a farewell gesture. Sherlock and I turned around and walked away, bodies locked into the other.

//Sherlock POV//

When we got back to the hotel, we'd had a few drinks. We went to a small Irish pub on the way back - completely John's idea. Obviously, I complied.

Another hour or two later, we hailed a cab - they always seem to stop for me, probably Mycroft's doing - and jumped in.

Back at the hotel, we slumped into our room, slightly intoxicated and bounded onto the bed. John stood up slowly, in fear of falling, and walked over to the suitcases. He grabbed a pair of stripy pyjama pants and changed. He pulled off his top and laid down in bed. I did the same. My pyjama bottoms were, in fact, a pair of old tracksuit bottoms. Grey ones. We slept shirtless.

The Next Morning

My first thought of that day was 'Who could be ringing me at bloody 6:30 in the morning'? Lestrade, of course. He'd been up all night at the churchyard and had needed questions answered. He couldn't wait any longer to find out the answers.

"Where's John?" I heard from the other end of the phone.

"He's right h-" I turned around to look at John's sleeping face to find it wasn't there. He wasn't there! Instead there was a note.

Sherlock Sherlock Sherlock. I warned you, darling, but did you listen? No! John is safe here with me. Don't worry about him. I'll only hurt him if you don't show up.

Meet me in your hotel lobby at 8:30 on the 3rd of January.

Love,

JM x

3rd of January? That's... That's today! It's only 6:36 so I read the letter over and over again, taking all the information in, carefully. I got up and went to make myself a bowl of cereal, but thought better not to. I pulled my dressing gown off and hurriedly changed into my least favourite suit. If Moriarty would be there, what's the point of dressing nicely? But John would be there, so I had to put on a suit.

It was only 7:28 when I couldn't wait any longer. I dragged my coat over my arms, flipping my collar up as I did so, and wrapped my blue scarf around my neck, struggling slightly because of the dry lump in my throat. I opened the door and locked it behind me as I walked out.

I found my way to the lobby, sat down and waited for John and Moriarty. After about half an hour, Moriarty appeared. Alone. My face fell, feeling stupid for thinking he'd just, bring John around with, oh I don't know, a gag or something on. Tears sprung to my eyes as I noticed the phone in his hand with John's caller ID on it. John could hear everything. I decided not to show anything to suggested I knew about the phone.

"Moriarty."

"Holmes. No, that doesn't sound right. Sherlock. Thats better, isn't it, Sherlock dear?"

"Don't you dare call me that." The anger rose in my throat, threatening to jump out at any moment and strangle Moriarty. Luckily, I didn't.

"Ohh sorry, temper tantrum." He teased, an evil look in his cold, green eyes. "Don't worry about John. He's fine." I narrowed my eyes.

"He isn't here. Why didn't you bring him with you?"

"What, so it would be two against one? Yeah, sure. I'll consider it next time." He smirked and I punched him. His nose immediately started to bleed, but he smiled still. Ugh. My anger just flew out of my ears, mouth, nose, everything. "Thanks for that."

"That was for John." I said, my eyes flickering to the phone in his hand. He changed his expression so his mouth was forming a small 'O' shape.

"Hear that, John? He punched me. Know what that means?" I heard a small yelp come from what seemed like nowhere. John!

"Damn it!" I screamed, a bit too loud. The smirk on Moriarty's face was so aggravating, I just wanted to punch it again. I was half-way there when I felt cold lips against mine.

"Hey! Get off me, now!" I shouted, as I attempted to push him away. But he just wouldn't budge. I kept trying, but eventually I gave in to him. First big mistake.

"Sherlock! Sherlock what is he doing?" I heard from the other end of the phone. John!

"John! He's-GET OFF OF ME!"I managed to push him away and grab the phone.

"John, I am so sorry. Are you ok?"

"I'm fine, Sherlock. Just... run."

"What? Run? Why?"

"Just do it. He's going to do something really bad."

"Yep." Moriarty said, popping the 'p' at the end. His eyes grew an evil hint to them as he told me to do something. He told me, to:

"Run."

(A/N: Oh snap! Run Sherlock, run!

Okay, so that was the last chapter of this story. The name of the sequel is going to be 'Finding You.' So just... give me about a week to design and plan out everything and then I'll update the first chapter :) ENJOY!)