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All I need is the air that you breathe

Originally posted by kikislasha at All I need is the that you breathe

Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Rating: PG

Starting up practice of my Sherlock! and John! voices. Series of drabbles to come. Under 500 words for the time being. Post Reichenbach fall. Not much to spoil, though.

The world is a blank slate. 

“You.” He says, “Have some...talking to do.”

It’s been three years. Three years that I can never hope to ask him to forgive me for. Three years that I had to take to make sure he stayed safe. Three years I fully expect to be killed for. By the loving hands of Doctor John H. Watson.

Three years of knowing that the one thing I could not control was the only thing that could save me from dying: John Watson believing I was alive.

Three years of trusting someone so implicitly to do one thing, and to do so even after every test of cruelty I could subject him to.

His expression tells me only a fraction of what I’ve put him through. I can see him angry, relieved, confused, proud, thankful, happy, tormented, worried, spiteful, hating, loving all at once. And I know I could never feel so much as this man standing in front of me. John. John. Mine. 


“No. No, not here. You.” He shakes his head, his eyes wet and wide. His hand directs me back to his carefully erected boundary. “You...” He shakes his head, too scared to close his eyes.

“John.” again. Softer, deeper.

His lips are tight and he cuts off the angry words that form along his tongue. His eyes are like steel traps and his gaze searches my face, considering whether to break or caress. His jaw slacks enough to breathe. Deep breaths, Doctor. Help clear your head. No falling over.

I am breathing in what he breathes out. The air between us passes like the words should.

I hate you. I know. You lied to me. I had to. You hurt me. I’m sorry. I needed you. 

I love you.

The steel traps stay open, glistening.

“I should--” I start.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I changed my mind. Don’t tell me. Not right now. Just...” His eyes say more, “Just shut up. I’m. I just need to stare at your cheekbones a little longer.” He huffs. A breath. “Alright?”

A glimmer of hope appears at the top right corner of my lips.

“Yes. Anything John.”

I’m sorry.

I love you.