Words Unspoken - Johnlock oneshot (aka alternate ending to HLV)
This was it. John knew. This would be the last time he and Sherlock would have a conversation. The last time they would be in the same room or even breathe the same air. "So what about you then?" he asked. "Where are you actually going now?"
"Oh, some undercover work in Eastern Europe."
"Six months, my brother estimates," there's a pause. "He's never wrong."
"And then what?" John asked, even though he already knew, really. Sherlock wouldn't be coming back. Not this time. He didn't know how to feel. It wouldn't quite process in his head that this would be the last time they'd exchange knowing smiles and sarcastic jokes. In the back of his mind, a voice kept telling him that Sherlock had come back once - so who's to say he won't do it again? But then another voice tells him that he'd already asked Sherlock for one more miracle. Asking him again would be...asking too much. John was not a greedy man. Sherlock came back for him once - and that's more than he could ever have hoped for. No, John wouldn't ask again; despite how much he wanted to.
The first voice in his head was screaming at him to tell him.
Tell him not to go. Tell him the truth.
"Who knows," Sherlock replied, looking John straight in the eye - appearing to be thinking something over in his head. After a moment, he broke the silence once again. "John, there's something I should say - I meant to say, always, and I never have." John raised his eyebrows and felt his pulse quicken. His best friend took another deep breath and- "Sherlock is actually a girl's name," he declared.
John let out a shaky laugh which was more a sigh of, what - disappointment? "It's not," even though he chuckled, deep down he felt sorrow beginning to eat away at his insides. He wished this conversation could last forever.
After a few more friendly words, the detective let out a final sigh and held out his ungloved hand. "To the best of times, John."
John gazed down at the man's hand and the voice - that oh-so-tempting voice began barking out more orders in a way that reminded him so much of his days in the army.
Tell him what you've been itching to tell him since he threw himself from the roof of Bart's. Just three words, Watson. Three little words that could stop him from leaving you again. Isn't that what you want?
Was that Sholto's voice? His eyes were still fixed on the hand that was waiting to be clasped with his own. But somehow, a simple handshake seemed far too formal. Too brief a gesture after everything they'd been through together. John mentally shook away that commanding voice and instead of taking Sherlock's hand and firmly shaking it, threw himself forwards and enveloped Sherlock in a bone-crushing hug. Sherlock let out a startled gasp, but immediately relaxed into the hug - bringing his arms around to rest against John's back and squeezing the smaller man; their bodies pressing even more closely together.
John scrunched up his eyes tightly as the voice returned, throwing out commands twice as loud now.
Tell him, Watson! Be a man and face your fears. You were taught this in basic training!
"Shut up!" John blurted out loud.
"I didn't say anything," Sherlock replied in confusion but still not moving from his position against John's body.
"You were thinking. It's annoying," John stated with a smile, hearing a deep chuckle against his shoulder. The sweet smell of Sherlock's coat was enough to get rid of the voice and allowed John to focus on that alone. But before he could completely lose himself in the smell and the warmth of his best friend pressed against him, Sherlock was pulling back. He flashed John one last smile that was so full of warmth and happiness - but John could see the regret and grief etched in there too; and he turned and walked straight onto the plane. But not before gazing down at John and flashing him a wink.
As John watched the plane gain speed on the runway, he couldn't help but feel that Sherlock had refrained himself from telling John something important - but maybe panicked and ended up saying something else instead.
Remind you of anyone? the voice asked in snide disapproval.
John felt Mary link her arm in his and squeeze reassuringly. But it was the reassuring squeeze he'd received from Sherlock that was more overpowering. And always would be. The jeering continued in his brain, telling him what a fool he was and that it was disappointed in him for not telling Sherlock how he really felt. Even though John told himself that there would be no more miracles, it didn't stop him from wishing that one more would come. And it certainly wouldn't stop him from always being ready, if Sherlock was to return.
He watched the plane take off into the air, and after resisting the impulse to run after it and scream Sherlock's name, he made a promise to himself to always wait for his best friend. Because he, more than anybody, believed in Sherlock Holmes.
For those that actually take the time to read this, i hope you enjoyed this (and the hug!) Please tell me what you thought 😚
