The pain in his eyes hurts me. It's like he's trying to say, "Marry me instead, John. Love me instead, John. Choose me instead, John", but he can't because he wants John to be happy.
I owe you two ficlets, to make the 31 complete. Here's the first, to mark the beginning of Pride Month.
John realises he’s bisexual around the time Harry comes out to her parents. But their reaction scares him so much he crawls back into the closet and nails the door shut.
It’s fine. He’s bi, after all. He’s fine with girls. Girls are wonderful. No reason to ever open that door again, no need to make a fuss.
He’s fine for years. He dates a few lovely women at Uni and in medical school, he has flings and relationships and everything in between. He doesn’t think about the door at all, mostly. If there’s a chap who catches his eye occasionally, he shrugs it off. No harm in a bit of a look.
He falls in love with a man in Afghanistan. But Sholto is as unattainable as he is magnetic. The difference in rank alone would be enough to make any relationship between them impossible. But if John’s sexuality is a door he nailed shut, Sholto’s is a titanium safe buried at the bottom of the Mariana Trench. They kiss once, when they’re both very, very, very drunk, and they never speak of it again.
It’s fine. Well, to be honest, it hurts like fuck, but it’s fine. It can’t be, for many reasons, and in a way, John is almost relieved. He doesn’t have to make a decision. He doesn’t have to open that door. It hurts, but it's safe.
Then he meets Sherlock Holmes and he’s completely, totally fucked. The door is in shambles, and there’s his heart, bursting out of his chest and into Sherlock’s hands before the ink is dry on the lease agreement.
The thing about Sherlock is, he isn’t safe. At all. Not even a little bit. Sherlock wouldn’t be safe if John was completely comfortable with his sexuality (which he obviously isn’t). Sherlock is explosive, and unpredictable, and magnetic, and gorgeous, and John loves him, loves him, loves him.
But there’s two problems. One is that John is never, ever sure of Sherlock. Ever. And that’s part of the charm, of course, but if the person holding your heart in his hands can’t be relied on not to quash it into mush, it makes going any further very difficult. The second is that John isn’t sure of himself. He’s not sure he has the courage to be out of that comfortable closet he built for himself. There would be questions. And he’s not sure he’s ready for that.
But they have time. He can learn to trust Sherlock with his heart, and he can learn to trust himself.
Then Sherlock jumps, and John wants to die, too.
If John is honest, the next few years are a bit of a blur, and he feels like he spends them in a half-trance of unreality. He suddenly snaps back to reality when he’s standing at an altar and marrying a woman he barely knows with Sherlock watching with an expression in his eyes that hurts.
Things go to absolute shit afterwards, which is truly impressive, given how bad things were before. The next two years are an absolute horrorshow, and John would like to erase that whole awful time from his harddrive.
He comes out of the ashes his life has turned to with two things still standing: His daughter, who is delightful, and Sherlock, who proved once and for all that for better or worse is a promise he can make and keep. And he feels the strong urge to be a better man, for both of them.
So when he finally feels like the ground under his feet has stopped constantly shifting, he goes back to that closet door. He removes the boards he used to nail it shut, and he opens it. He has a good, hard look at what he wants and who he is, and finds that actually, he’s good enough. Maybe he even deserves to be loved.
He finds his heart at the bottom of that closet. It’s battered and beaten, but still strong. He dusts it off and hands it back to Sherlock Holmes, who takes it with gentle hands and smiles.
And that’s when John realises that he had Sherlock’s heart in the palm of his hand the whole time. It’s as battered and beaten as John’s, but as strong. A lot of its wounds are self-inflicted, like John’s, and a lot of the blows they dealt to each other. This stops now, John thinks. I’ll guard your heart and you’ll guard mine. And that fucking door stays open.
He’s 43 when he gets married to a man, their proud daughter at their side.
There are questions. And looks. And people with opinions.
But John knows now that people’s hate can’t hurt him if he doesn’t hate himself, and that anybody who doesn’t want him to be happy isn’t worth his time. And he knows he has to show this to his daughter every day, so she won’t end up feeling like she has to nail shut a part of herself to fit in.
So he paints the door in rainbow colours and leaves it wide open, and he lives his life.
I can't remember who all tagged me and for which prompts. Here is what I remember. Always, purple, candle, breakfast, home.
Title? Peanitbear doesn't need no stinking title! (really I can't think of one. lol
John stumbles into the kitchen, flicking the lights on as he passes through the door frame. Catching sight of Sherlock’s purple shirt half hanging off the top of the fridge, he smiles picturing how it got there. How he slowly undid each button, how he kissed pale skin as it was revealed, how he peeled it off broad shoulders. He hadn’t realized that is where it landed after he flung it away.
The kitchen is quite messy. Dirty pots and pans on the stove, dishes still on the table besides glasses with remnants of wine. The wine had been Mycroft’s gift for their 4 year anniversary, not quite flowers, but quite enjoyable and appreciated all the same if not more. Luckily the candles had burned themselves out instead of setting the place on fire since neither he or Sherlock had remembered to blow them out, passion getting the better of them. John’s not complaining at all, he will take a night of making love and waking in Sherlock’s arms over a clean kitchen.
John figures tea and toast will be enough of a breakfast for today. It doesn’t take long for the kettle to boil and the toast to pop. He arranges it all on a tray and heads back to his husband. He maneuvers through their bedroom door and takes a moment to watch the man sleep. Together for 6 years, married for 4 years and at times it still doesn’t feel real. After all they have been through, they are here, together finally and always. John gives a soft chuckle at his sappiness.
“Sherlock, my love, up you get.”
John watches as Sherlock half opens his beautiful eyes. “Why John, Just come back to bed. We’ve nowhere to be and all day to get there.”
John sets the tray on the dresser . Sherlock, warm and naked, reaching for him from their bed is a much more tempting offer than tea and toast. “A better idea I’ve never heard of.” he answers softly. John slides back into bed and into his husband’s arms. They kiss gently and pull apart slightly, foreheads touching. “You are my home,” Sherlock whispers. “And you are mine,” John whispers back.
Not beta or anything....all mistakes are mine. Hope you enjoyed.
I think these are people that tagged me: @calaisreno @raina-at @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely @gregorovitchworld and if you did and I didn't tag you, please forgive me.
"alright... d'you have a boyfriend? which is fine by the way-"
"i know its fine."
"so you've got a boyfriend,"
"no."
"right, okay. you're unattached just like me."
and when Sherlock (rightfully) thought John was interested in him, his reaction wasnt "i'm not gay" *unlike some people cough cough* it was "i consider myself married to my work". along with that he says girlfriends arent his area, the first thing he says about boyfriends is that he knows its fine, but he doesnt have one. and yeah Sherlock isnt that good with people, but he's good at deducing body language, and we know (from his interactions with for example Irene) that he does infact know when people are attracted to him. meaning, John was infact trying to make a move. conclusion: gay.
If you want to see the whole flowchart in one image, download it here.
Creating this flowchart has required me choose what to include and what to leave out. If you think that I have missed something, I’d be happy to hear from you, but please read the comments first, in case I had excluded that information for a reason.
This project has been made so much easier thanks to the Sherlock timeline at bakerstreet.wikia.com and the wonderful transcripts by @callie-ariane. Go look them up at arianedevere.livejournal.com!
Thank you to my wonderful proof reader @wetislandinthenorthatlantic!
I have completely lost track of who is discussing what in the aftermath of s4, but I’ll tag a few people under the cut anyway, hoping that you are interested. Let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in the future!
This is astonishing! You juggled so many factors so well! If only there were a way to indicate “speed & savagery of queer baiting intensifies” but I respect that that’s to some respect subjective and a function of personal bitterness (in my case, extreme)
Ah, well There’s a challenge I don’t think I’m up to :-) But if it’s visualisation of speed you want, you might want to check out my visualisation of how te show jumps back and forth in time in each episode.
Imagine in s4 of Sherlock, one day they’re at a crime scene and Sherlock makes this spectacular deduction and everyone’s just staring and John smiles, and says out of admiration; “God, I love you”. And Sherlock turns to him, eyebrow raised. “Sarcasm?” Except this time, John just licks his lips and says “Nope”, in front of everyone
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