Sherlock RP (Johnlock, fluffy angsty bloomy♥)
Stranger: Why do people hate me so much? SH
Stranger: Don't lie to me. We both know that's not true. SH
You: I don't hate you, Mrs Hudson either. There's also Lestrade. JW
You: Besides, the other people are just jealous. JW
Stranger: Mrs Hudson is like a mother. Lestrade, he needs me that's why he endures me. Molly has a creepy fascination over me, that will eventually fade away and Mycroft doesn't count. He's family. SH
Stranger: And why should they be jealous? SH
You: They have every reason to be. JW
You: And what about me? JW
Stranger: You are a mystery. But I give you the danger and adrenaline you crave. That's what made you move in with me. Not me, per se, but the danger that was assured to follow. SH
You: You really are an idiot, sometimes. JW
Stranger: I'm only too painfully aware. SH
You: I enjoy the danger you give me, but why would I bother living with you if I didn't like you? Honestly? JW
You: I enjoy the time spent with you. JW
You: You don't believe me. JW
Stranger: John, you are the first to tell me how much of an arrogant dick and a consulting ten-year-old I can be. SH
You: Because you are arrogant. But I like you for what you are anyway. JW
You: Because I just... do. I just know that you act like a sociopath because of what people told you. And there are those times when you just look at me with that trust and respect in your eyes and it just makes me realize how much I enjoy your company and how much I need you. JW
Stranger: Right. Okay. Right. SH
Stranger: John you idiot. SH
Stranger: How did you do that? SH
Stranger: You keep doing it. It's annoying. SH
Stranger: Making me speechless. SH
You: Well, now I am speechless because you just told me you are. JW
Stranger: Yes, well, good. Not good? SH
You: It's good, I think. JW
You: Well, it's not if you still think I hate you, though. Because I really don't. JW
Stranger: No. I know you don't. Now I know you don't. That's enough for me SH
You: It just kills me to think you thought I did before that. JW
Stranger: I didn't thing you /hated/ me. John, I'm not a likeable person. You see how people behave with me. Anderson, Donovan, Sebastian from the bank... I'm just... not... a pleasant company. SH
You: Do you actually pay attention to them? JW
You: I mean I would punch them right away, if that didn't create you troubles after that. JW
You: I mean, I did punch the Superintendent, though. JW
Stranger: I'm proud of you for that. SH
Stranger: John... It's not them... It's not just them. SH
You: Well, I guess my knuckles are going to be bruised badly, then. JW
Stranger: No, don't bother. SH
You: Of course I would. JW
Stranger: No. Why? It's been like that since I was a boy. SH
You: Just look at yourself, Sherlock. JW
You: You are handsome, and not just the guy-next-door, you know. You are unique, which would be enough to make any guy jealous. JW
You: You are intelligent - very intelligent, and you can deduce people by the way they just blink. JW
You: Some people would kill, just to be you. Since they cannot be you, they become all insufferable because it makes them feel superior. JW
Stranger: Remember that speechless thing? SH
You: I do, and you shouldn't. I'm merely 'stating the obvious'. JW
Stranger: Why are you telling me all of this? I wouldn't want to be me, why would others? I don't understand. SH
You: It's just what we all feel, Sherlock. A man is never satisfied with what he owns, or what he is. JW
Stranger: Aren't /you/ satisfied with who you are? SH
You: Not at all. But I am satisfied with my life. I have been for several years only, though. JW
Stranger: You're confusing me. You're not happy with you but you're happy with your life? How does that work? SH
You: Well, basically, I just look like the perfect boring guy, the guy next door, as I said earlier. JW
You: I can't even keep a girlfriend for three days because they find me dull, and you may have noticed that I tend to be forgotten easily. JW
You: Still, I have never been this happy since I've move in with you. JW
You: So now, I am happy with my life. JW
Stranger: Now you're making me feel guilty. SH
You: Guilty? Why would you feel guilty? JW
Stranger: Because I know that I'm the reason they leave you. You know me and my relationship with boredom. Do you think that if you were boring I would still endure you? You're not boring, nor dull. Women leave you because I have a talent to bring trouble and you have a talent to leave everything to come help me out of it. SH
You: Well, they still find me boring. Besides, I /choose/ to leave everything to come help you.
Stranger: And why? Why do you choose me over them? SH
You: I don't even know myself. I mean, I guess that our friendship is stronger than what I have with them. JW
Stranger: Our friendship... Okay... Right. SH
Stranger: Nothing is. Why should anything be wrong? SH
You: Well, the fact that you are actually saying this is the proof. JW
Stranger: What? John. I'm okay. I really am. SH
Stranger: Okay. Why is it wrong? SH
You: Correct me if I'm wrong, but I've upset you by saying 'friendship'. JW
Stranger: No. I've just never had friends before. Friends who stood up for me. Friends who would leave their girlfriends behind for me. Friends who would punch the chief superintendent in the nose for me, do you see? SH
You: I see. Well, it was before, right? JW
Stranger: Yes. But that doesn't mean I'm used to have you watching over me like some kind of guardian angel. SH
You: Hm... yes. But... does that bother you? JW
Stranger: I like it. It makes me feel... safe. SH
You: I'm glad then. It makes me feel important, in a way. JW
You: Important to someone. JW
Stranger: You are important to me, John. Very much so. HS
You: Thank you. /Thank you/. JW
You: You don't realize, do you? JW
Stranger: Realize what? SH
You: When I came back from Afghanistan, I was even more alone than I had ever been in my entire life. Nobody remembered John Watson, because he wasn't worth it. Just the perfect useful and nice guy you easily forget because he is like any random person. JW
You: And then I met you. JW
Stranger: You may be many things, John. But you are not random. You're not ordinary or forgettable. The John I know, My John, is brilliant, he's smart, he's handsome and he is the best man I ever met. John, you gave me a reason. SH
Stranger: Right. Have you seen my thumbs around? SH
You: In the fridge, behind the head. JW
You: Mrs Hudson screamed earlier when she found them. JW
Stranger: Really? I could swear I left them in the oven. SH
Stranger: Fascinating things, thumbs. Don't you think? Let's talk about thumbs. SH
You: Well, they were in the oven, but I put them back in the fridge, because Mrs Hudson threatened to throw them in the garbage. JW
You: Well, thumbs are useful. JW
You: We couldn't be able to hold things without them. JW
Stranger: Yes. Basis aspect of primatology. All primates have thumbs. It's amazing. Darwin would be proud. SH
Stranger: And fingerprints. Thumbs and fingerprints. SH
You: Indeed. Though we usually find more data with the fingerprints from the index finger. JW
Stranger: Your knowledge of biology astounds me. Please do tell me more. SH
You: Well, there is a database with the fingerprint of the index finger of every citizen in each country. Like you know, they take our fingerprint when we make ID card. JW
Stranger: Yes. Brilliant. Fantastic. SH
You: Now, I guess that you might have put them in the oven to check if a fingerprint can be altered when a finger is subjected to a high temperature. JW
You: I mean, the friction ridge skin impressions. JW
Stranger: I think I love you. SH
Stranger: So, about those thumbs. Did you see any results? SH
You: I-I, yes, I've... hm, seen some results. JW
Stranger: Good. Which were them? SH
You: Hm, if the area where the fingerprints have been found reaches a very high temperature, the fingerprints can't be seen by developing prints. JW
You: However, putting thumbs in the oven doesn't alter the friction ridges on the fingertips. JW
Stranger: So the lesson is, if you want to give your landlady a heart attack, spread severed body parts around the flat. If you want to conduct an experiment with them, call Doctor John Watson MD. SH
You: Well, it's more, if you want your landlady to beg me to stop you from conducting experiments, spread severed body parts around the flat. JW
Stranger: A man's alibi depended on it. SH
Stranger: When are you getting home? I'm hungry. SH
You: Well, I'll be on my way. I'll just take some takeaway before. JW
You: Did you just say that you were hungry? JW
Stranger: Yes. What's wrong with it? SH
You: I think I'm going to save this text to read it every time I feel sad. JW
You: Joking. It's just the first time you've admitted that you /are/ hungry. JW
Stranger: I haven't eaten for five days, John. I'm allowed to get a little peckish. SH
You: Of course you are allowed. JW
You: Would it be too much to ask you to set the table? JW
Stranger: Already done. SH
You: Oh. That's good then. Perfect. JW
Stranger: Yes. And I bought the milk. SH
You: It feels like it is my birthday, you know. JW
You: Talking about birthday... You never told me, you know... JW
Stranger: Tell you about what? Oh, god. Is it your birthday today? SH
You: No, God, no it's not. JW
You: I always ask you, but you always change the subject. JW
Stranger: It's not important. SH
You: Well, because I want to be able to celebrate the birth of my favourite consulting detective. JW
Stranger: I'm the only one in the world. SH
You: I knew you were going to say that. JW
Stranger: Yes. I'm that predictable. SH
You: Oh God, no you're not. JW
You: It's just sometimes, I can guess what you will say. JW
Stranger: 6th of January. SH
You: But it means that we missed your birthday then. How about celebrating it tonight? JW
Stranger: I don't celebrate my birthday. SH
You: You do from now on. JW
Stranger: Why is it so important to YOU to celebrate MY birthday? SH
You: Because you are important. JW
You: I mean, I just want to, that's all. JW
Stranger: I'm important. SH
You: Just what I said. JW
Stranger: You are a mystery to me John. You scare me. SH
You: Among all the things I have been told, I was never told I was scary. JW
You: (brb, just in case, my tumblr is utopia-in-atlantis)
Stranger: [...and so we meet again...]
Stranger: [You must be stalking me...]
Stranger: [Hey there, Bloo here.]
You: (BLOO! :o How are you, dear? :D)
Stranger: [Bored. Tired. Meh...]
You: (I hope you're not bored because of me, though :P)
Stranger: [Not at all. My grandmother is still talking... like she has been for the past couple of hours. I have no idea what she's saying. I zoned out a while ago... like two hours ago.]
You: (Ouch, that's not cool indeed :/)
Stranger: [Nope... I was just thinking was it you my Hungerlock rp partner?]
You: (Yup, it was! We never got to finish.)
Stranger: [Pity. I was enjoying that one xD Anyway, shall we proceed?]
You: (Sure! And we could continue it, if you want btw. You know, I actually started a fanfiction hungersuperwholock(etc.) because of that RP. It ruins my life, now i_i)
Stranger: [Oh, really? xD I want to read it, then xD and yes. Continue that one would be... nice]
You: (Well, I'll translate it into English, then :D)
Stranger: [Oh... I forgot... Not English native speaker either...]
You: (I always forget that you are not a native. I mean, your English is SO perfect. i_i)
Stranger: [Oh Stawp it yu! *blushes?]
You: (Well, "only stating the obvious". )
Stranger: [Yes, obviously. :) Well... what do you want to do then?]
You: (Well, let's finish that one, and then we could continue our hungerlock later :3)
Stranger: [Yes, sure :) It's your turn I believe]
You: (Well, it's yours, actually. )
Stranger: [What's omegle doing? It is hiding your replies! It's eating mine!]
Stranger: You're not scary. You scare me. It's different. SH [my last]
You: (Oh, well, I hadn't received it!)
You: (Omegle... *shakes fist*)
You: Well, I guess you will have to bear my creepiness for tonight as well. By the way, almost home. JW
Stranger: Good. Hurry, then, will you? I'm fainting here. SH
You: Hurrying, don't worry. Just try to stay conscious while I climb the stairs and all. JW
Stranger: I'm dying John! I think I see the light already. It's a pretty light. I want to touch it. SH
You: Nooo, don't touch it, Sherlock. JW
You: You might get burnt. JW
Stranger: Hm, you do have a point there. SH
Stranger: I'm dreadfully bored, though. SH
You: Hm, I will have to help you with it, then. JW
Stranger: Yes. I agree. SH
You: Right, right, I'm going to 'feed you'. JW
Stranger: Fun fact: Lestrade an my brother are shagging each other. SH
Stranger: How is that fair? SH
Stranger: I know. It's absurd. One would think that Lestrade would be a reasonable man. Even Mycroft gets to have someone. Why can't I? SH
You: Didn't you tell me when we first met that this kind of things didn't matter? JW
Stranger: I'm only human, John. SH
You: Wow. A human who is actually interested an hungry. JW
You: This is really like a birthday to me. JW
You: Right, we'll continue this conversation at home, I've just arrived. JW
Stranger: Finally! Before I die of boredom here. SH
You: John found himself smiling to himself when he 'finally' arrived in front of their good old flat. He had just stopped at the Chinese to order some takeaway and was planning on 'giving' some kind of compensation for all the birthdays they have both missed. In fact, he actually suspected that Sherlock had never celebrated his brithday with his family. He wouldn't be surprised if Mycroft of Sherlock told him that 'birthdays' were dull, boring and hardly important for the Holmes family. "Right, food's arrived," John said when he arrived at the flat and put the bags on the kitchen table. All set, like Sherlock had promised, which was a miracle in itself, but he really, really appreciated it. "And I hope you didn't touch that light. We don't want your fingerprints to disappear, do we?"
Stranger: Sherlock sat on the kitchen counter, tossing an apple from hand to hand, his eyes closed, the heels of his feet drumming in tempo with the tick, tock of the kitchen clock. John's arrival brought with him a familiar scent. The scent of food. Chinese food. He scowled and huffed out a breath. "You're feeling awkward," Sherlock sat straighter and looked at the doctor, tipping his head to a side. "You know I prefer Indian, but I always chance my orders when I go out, so you weren't confident enough to ask something random, afraid that I wouldn't enjoy it. You decided to play safe and go to the Chinese because there my orders don't vary much. We had duck yesterday, so I suppose you brought the porc, which tells me you want to feel comfortable. Why are you playing safe, John?"
You: He seriously wasn't going to deduce him by the food he had chosen, right? "Well, the Chinese restaurant was on my way home, but you're right." He paused, looking up to meet Sherlock's eyes and remained silent for several seconds. "I brought the porc." John turned around and turned his attention on the food inside the bags, humming happily to himself. "Hm, so how about this celebration of your birthday?" he asked, still facing his flatmate with his back and pretending to be focused on the food - because of course, the food was /that/ fascinating. "I didn't have time to buy you something absolutely wonderful, but I've still got a, uhm... an idea of what I might give you. Interested?"
Stranger: Sherlock pouted. "You're such a lousy liar," he sighed. "You heard me saying, well, you read me saying that I was hungry. You would not waste an opportunity of pleasing me and impress me with the right food, much more when I was showing receptivity signs towards it. The more I like it the more I eat. You wouldn't waste a chance to make me eat. Again, Indian was a risky choice. So Chinese. You have an Indian Restaurant right next to the surgery. As I said you are a lousy liar and no," he breathed in deeply and poured himself a glass of water, putting the apple down. "I don't think I want any presents."
You: "You never stop, do you?" John asked, sitting on one of the chairs, a small smile tugging at his lips. "So, all right, I didn't want to take the risk, because I know you. You would refuse to eat if something doesn't please you and yet, you haven't been eating for five days. Besides, I wanted to make this evening special - and not having you eating isn't something special. Trust me." He pressed his lips together and ran his fingers through his hair at the same time. "Um, I can still call the Indian Restaurant, though if you really don't want some Chinese. And no argument about the present-thing. You will get a present tonight. End of story."
Stranger: "Who said I don't want Chinese?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows and gulped the water before sitting down at the table. He laced his hands in front of him, briefly losing himself in his thoughts. John was trying to impress him, and that was scary. No one tried to impress him. Ever. Sherlock leaned back and sighed heavily. "I don't want a present. I haven't gotten a present for thirty-five years of my life. Why start now? I'm fine without them. I don't need them, John. Why are you going to bother?"
You: "Because this is what best friends do," John said this as if it were the most obvious thing one could ever say. "I mean, I have somehow guessed that your family wouldn't celebrate such 'trivial things like birthdays', but it's still something important. Giving a present at one's birthday is a way to show that you care. I didn't get that opportunity last month, so I will now. Except if it really annoys you, then, I will just eat with you and try to disappear for the rest of the night." He leaned back as well and looked at Sherlock with some kind of smirk and curious look. "So?"
Stranger: Sherlock's cheeks tinted lightly and he looked down at his plate. "We'll do it your way," he murmured, not really wanting to know how John knew about his birthday non-celebration. He just brought his lip between his teeth and bit it lightly, sighing gently and serving a portion of food to his plate and smiling up at John, a small, bashful smile that was supposed to say a 'thank you' for his friend's efforts. Sherlock started to eat, pushing his food around the plate as he, once more, lost himself in thoughts. There were so many things that he wished he could say to John. And yet, he couldn't bring the words to his lips.
You: John's smile looked even wider and brighter when Sherlock gave in and smiled at him. "Oh, sure I will," he whispered back, quickly eating his food, in-so-much that when he had finished, Sherlock was still playing with it and pushing it around his plate. Rolling his eyes but still wearing his soft smile, he got up and put his plate in the sink. He seemed rather nervous, which was frustrating, actually because it really wasn't a big deal. However, deep down, he knew that this nervousness, how whatever he might call it, had something to do with that conversation they had had together over texts. Anyway, John had planned on waiting until Sherlock had finished to give him his "present", but he obviously couldn't wait - expect a comment from Sherlock about that matter - and resigned himself to give him right away. "Okay, well... Happy birthday, two months later," he said suddenly, reaching into his sweater to grab something he was wearing around his neck. He held that 'something' in his hand for several seconds and then placed them around Sherlock's neck. His dog tags.
Stranger: Sherlock stopped his forkful halfway up and swallowed his mouthful without even chewing. He looked at John as he felt the heaviness of the tags around his neck and he looked down at his chest, fingers caressing the metal. Sherlock looked up at John again, his eyes watering and he cleared his throat, closing his hand around his tags and biting his lip. Thirty-five years. And never had he received anything more meaningful than anything he could ever have. This was more than just dog tags. This was a piece of John. And a piece of his history. "John..." he whispered, looking up. "I don't.... I can't..."
You: "You can." John replied back softly, taking his chair to sit in front of Sherlock. He rested his hand on his knee and squeezed it gently, genuinely touched by the fact that Sherlock realized how much these things meant to him. "These things are one of the rare things I have left related to my past, well, /this/ past. I used to need them because they reminded me of the battlefield, of a past I liked better. But now, I don't need to be reminded of this past, because my life right now is a thousand better. Anyway, I've always wanted to give them to someone important. So." He cleared his throat, looking away a little from those big grey piercing eyes. "Here they are."
Stranger: Sherlock gaped at John. He really thought he was important. Sherlock promised he would never take them off again. Never, ever. The water in his eyes threatened to spill and he bit his lip again. Not knowing what to do or how to thank John, Sherlock slipped the dog tags inside his shirt and closed his eyes, feeling the cold metal against his skin. "John..." he called again. And then he lost it. One hand reached out and cupped John's cheek as he leaned forwards and kissed his lips.
You: Well, that was a hell of a celebration, wasn't it? John always thought he would freak out if a man kissed him or even tried to. A lot of soldiers usually had relations with men during a war but he had not and that was why he always repeated that he wasn't gay. It was important to him, and yet, this time, when Sherlock leaned forward to kiss him, it was like a normal gesture. His hands cupped Sherlock's cheeks while his thumbs gently brushed the corner of his eyes, where the tears threatened to spill. It was all fine. Just all fine.
Stranger: Sherlock's brain caught up with his actions a little too late. Next thing he knew he was there, bending over John, kissing his lips as if there was no tomorrow. With a gasp, Sherlock pulled away, looking at the food, now cold, in his plate and breathing in deeply, trying to understand what the hell had happened.
You: John noticed the way Sherlock looked completely lose when he pulled away and couldn't help but chuckle a little, himself being rather breathless. "Well, um... I guess that you liked my present then," he said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck without meeting Sherlock's gaze properly, pretty much aware that the man surely felt extremely awkward after this.
Stranger: "I'm... I'm sorry," he murmured, biting his lip tightly. He had ruined it. He had managed to cock up the only friendship he actually, truly believed in. His eyes stopped threatening and started to spill. He wiped them with the sleeve of his dressing gown and sighed deeply. "I'm sorry, John." He repeated in a shaky whisper. He didn't mean to have screwed up like that. He didn't mean to kiss John like that.
You: Rule 1 to know when you lived with Sherlock was that the man never cried, except when he needed to collect some information about a case. He could cry on command, but rarely - or never cried genuinely. This was certainly why John found himself totally helpless when he saw that Sherlock /was/ crying, and crying for real. "Oh, God, no don't cry," John told him, this time daring to brush his cheek with his hand without fearing to be rejected. "Don't cry, Sherlock," he repeated in what was more like a whisper. He kept on stroking his cheek gently and the look on his face only showed worry and caring.
Stranger: John's touch did help him calm down. His hands were trembling, but he still held John's hand in his, tentatively, as if the man was going to tell him off about it. "I wasn't thinking. I've been so careful, but then you... And I... And then I couldn 't... and your tags..." the words were stumbling in his lips, his thoughts not making any sense. "Don't leave me, John. I'm sorry."
You: "Who said I was going to leave?" John asked seriously, raising his eyebrows since he genuinely didn't expect to see Sherlock react like this. "You said you've been careful, does that mean you..." Oh. After all this time, there would only be one thing, one person people could use to threaten Sherlock and it had been Sherlock. As much as that possibility had never crossed John's mind, that conversation over texts and the kiss had gave him some hints. But, all this time? "You don't need to apologize, Sherlock. I kissed you back, and I never, ever planned on leaving."
Stranger: Sherlock's sad eyes finally dared to meet John's and he swallowed the lump of heart back to his throat. He breathed in, lips parting to speak, but nothing came out. He didn't know what to say. How to say it. Why did he feel so cold and warm all at the same time? Why did he feel like crying and laughing. John didn't reject him, but that wasn't a smooth way to let him know that he was in love with him since the very day they met. Sherlock stood up and nodded. "I'm going to rest," he murmured, making his way to his room.
You: John let out a soft sigh and stood up as well, walking fast so that he could take a hold at Sherlock's hand before he left to his bedroom. Holding his hand tightly, he stroked the back of it with his other hand and drew him close to him. "Is it a way to tell me that I am a bad kisser?" He asked, looking both offended and amused, closing the gap between them until their foreheads rested against each other.
Stranger: Sherlock stepped backwards and shook his head before John brought their foreheads together. "No. This is a way for me to try and not ruin it further. I'm in love with you, John. I've been since ever. And I'm not going to lose you. I'll learn to unlove you. I will. I have to. Your friendship is what I most value in my life, now. You're my rock. I can't lose that."
You: "I really thought it had become so obvious that you would actually mock me, you know," John started, shaking his head slightly and letting go of Sherlock's hand. He looked up at the ceiling and smiled sadly to himself, trying to find a way to express into words what he wanted to explain to Sherlock. "Have you ever wondered why I was so dedicated to you? Because I have. I keep wondering why. It is 'obvious' that I value your friendship, like you apparently do with mine, but it goes even beyond than that. I..." He could already remember Mycroft's words during their first meeting. "Unlike you brother likes to think, I am not loyal as quickly as I was to you. You were different from the start and I knew it. I knew this relationship wouldn't be normal. But I stayed. What I mean, by saying that, is that you don't need to torture yourself, because I may also be in love with you, Sherlock."
Stranger: [brb. baby woke up]
Stranger: [Do babies have a turn-off button?]
Stranger: [Or a mute button]
You: (They don't. Or at least, the babies at my home don't è_é)
Stranger: [Unfortunately..]
Stranger: Sherlock's heart dropped to the floor, then back up again, then it did a flipping thing and started to thump loudly in his chest. John's words were taking more than the normal time to reach his brain. The thoughts ran in something like the following: 'John, talking. John is talking. Talking is good. Oh, what is he saying now? Milk. I should buy milk more often. Maybe he won't leave then. Yes. He keeps talking. What is he saying? What does Mycroft have to do with the rest? I should call him and tell him not to cross Lestrade. Otherwise I'll be out of good cases. John why are you still talking? You should be kissing me! No. Not kissing, Sherlock you idiot. He doesn't like you like that...' he looked at John as he spoke of being in love with him. Then his thought's ran in a different way. 'John. In. Love. With. Me. ... ... ... ...' "What?"
You: "Sherlock, like you, I don't like to repeat myself," John said, chuckling to himself gently. He actually wondered at some point if Sherlock had actually registered anything he had told him. Coming from Sherlock, one would expect he had, but his eyes were saying the opposite. It was very strange, and quite unique in a way to witness something like this. A study in love. Who would think Sherlock Holmes would be so foolish to fall in love - especially with a man like him? "You really are an idiot, you know," With a bright grin, he kissed him softly, his hand resting just where at the emplacement of now /Sherlock/'s dog tags on his chest.
You: (azetsfh the last sentence doesn't mean anything)
You: just where Sherlock's dog tags were resting*
Stranger: Sherlock nodded and he caressed John's cheek, his eyes surveying the shorter man's features. Sherlock's heart was slowly breaking. He couldn't believe in it he couldn't. "I..." He was used to be the freak. The boy that everyone used to be their punching bag. He wasn't lovable. "I..." John should be mistaken. It was the only possible logical explanation of all the facts. "I... John..." Sherlock closed his eyes and pressed their lips together again, slowly, tenderly, trying not to think of the consequences.
Stranger: [Have I mentioned family being a pain? I have to leave for... I really, honestly don't know how long, but I'll come back]
You: (it's fine, don't worry. I'm a bit tired so I'll just get some rest until you come back ;))
Stranger: [Okay, luv. I'll talk to you later, then?
Stranger: [BAH: I'll sssskin them all laterz]
Stranger: [See you hun :)]
You: If you took a close look at the two of them, John thought, it was only logical that they would both end up like this, actually. They needed each other, and no one, just /no one/ could say it was a lie. Three years and hundreds of cases, moments of complicity and loyalty had been enough to prove this fact. When Sherlock kissed him again, John gave himself entirely into that kiss. Nothing desperate of fierce. Just tenderness, love, caring, respect and... them. It was about them, and it made it even more beautiful. Sherlock's lips seemed to fit perfectly with his. In fact, their bodies were like two pieces of a puzzle, put together. Yes, perfection.
