Won't Let My World Fall

Chapter 7

(Sherlock's POV)

Twenty minutes away from Chingford, Sherlock leaned against the window of the cab, trying not to think about John. He had screwed up massively; he hadn't even been able to face hearing Lestrade talk about him. When Lestrade had answered his call he had began with, "Oh, Sherlock, John called-" before Sherlock had cut him off. He could guess what he would have heard. He would have to deal with the mess he'd made with John eventually, but he was not looking forward to it. So, for now at least, the case came first.

The cab slowed to a stop. Wiping his face on his sleeve, Sherlock got out. It was still about half an hour until their suspects were supposed to arrive, but he still needed to get into position and wait.

Within ten minutes, another cab pulled up. But it was neither the murderer nor even Lestrade who got out. It was John. "Oh, crap," Sherlock whispered. "Sherlock!" John had spotted him.

(John's POV)

"Sherlock!" John hurried toward Sherlock, who seemed to be fighting the impulse to run. "I've been looking all over for you-"

Sherlock interrupted, "Look, John, I'm really sorry, I know-"

"No, wait-"

"I hope you're not furious with me-"

"Of course, listen to me-"

"I know you're angry but can we talk about this after we finish this case?" Sherlock turned to walk into the park.

"No!" John grabbed his arm; Sherlock gave him an apprehensive look. "Just listen to me. I'm not mad at you-"

"You're not?" Sherlock interjected.

"No. In fact..." John hesitated, then, seizing Sherlock's coat lapels, pulled him into a kiss. Sherlock gave a muffled cry of surprise before wrapping his arms around John and kissing him back.

John finally pulled back enough to say, "In case you didn't get the message, I'm not mad at all, Sherlock."

Sherlock was smiling, his eyes shining, "Really?"

"Of course, just ask Mycroft. I, uh," John coughed, "may have shouted at him over the phone." Sherlock chuckled. 

There was a pause before he said, "Sorry I ran away."

"That's alright. Sorry I was, y'know." John said.

"I just thought I'd gotten it wrong. I tried to deduce you, but I couldn't be sure-" Sherlock stopped mid-sentence, staring over John's head.

"What?" John turned around, "What is it?"

"The murderer," Sherlock said. He grabbed John's hand and pulled him back, "Come on."