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“Sherlock if I’m what you want then...” He clears his throat and touches my forearm. “...you can kiss me.”
I say nothing. I do nothing. I'm rooted to the spot. He rubs the bare skin of my arm gently, I feel it everywhere. This is madness. I should leave, I should flip the switch, we’re wasting time. “John-” his name catches in my throat, my resistance is hardly convincing. I need to leave. "John, I have to-"
“Shh, just...” He cuts me off and draws me closer with his other hand that still holds the blade. I don’t resist despite the close proximity to his nude body, at least the bars are a barrier though hardly protecting his modesty. Or mine.
I find myself staring at his mouth. There's something decidedly masculine about his lips, thin but his bottom lip is ever-so-slightly fuller than the top. They always part when he sleeps and flake at the slightest hint of cold weather. I've wanted to taste those lips for so long. I can't ignore it, his offer is more than appealing. This John has a power over me, he was designed to be my temptation.
Resisting temptation has never been my strong suit.
Just this once I could see, play pretend and have my love returned. He licks his lips and shifts his stance, he’s nervous but he knows me. He knows me like I wish the real John did. I've made him doubt who he is but he cannot doubt how I feel. Short blonde eyelashes, dark blue eyes, every fleck is recognizable. He’s just an echo of John and a reflection of me. Resist. I can’t do this, I pull away, I can’t meet his familiar yet foreign eyes anymore. “Don’t go.” He requests hurriedly. I stay. I'm weak. “Just look at me for a second, I might not be him but I’m still someone, someone who cares, someone who loves you.”
“Stop it, stop saying that.” Please, I can’t.
John chuckles wryly leaving me confused. It draws me to look at him once more. He’s remembering something; I’ve seen that smile before. “I was the first to say I love you. When I said it, you looked at me like I was barking mad and you know what you said? You told me to stop it.” I smile against my will but he’s retelling a false memory, a lie I deeply wish could be true. I still want to hear more about how the story might have been written. “You were so worried I didn’t mean it but god I did. I told you in the middle of a case, I didn’t even realise I said it out loud because I’d been thinking it for so long. We hadn’t really been together that long, I suppose it took us a little while to get our act together."
I've loved him for much longer. "How? How did we..." I have to know.
"The concrete boots case. Twelve hours in that skip gave us a chance to open up. Granted it was by text and in complete darkness but that probably helped us both be more honest and a little braver. I think I started it when I called you an insufferable git who I couldn't live without and you told me that you hated needing someone in your life and that you should have told me to sod off ages ago. I took it as a compliment and it sort of snowballed from there. Did the skip thing actually happen?” He furrows his brows to hide the hope.
“The skip, yes. The texting too but it didn’t lead to what you remember, you called me an insufferable git but not the rest. Not even close.” We discussed the last few months, our somewhat non-traditional friendship and stories about life before we met but nothing more. That is what I wanted. For John to feel like he couldn't bear to be without me. To be special to him.
“Ah, ok.” He looks disappointed. I think I am too. “Well, probably for the best really considering we had our first kiss in that skip. The real John might have a second chance if he comes to his bloody senses, really anywhere could be better.”
I’d kiss you anywhere.
There it is, that urge, that pull. It's undeniable, I don't want to resist anymore. I want to have our first kiss. Just the one so it'll be our last too. I want to pretend just for a moment that this is mine, that he is mine. I'm going to take what I want. “I want to kiss you.”
His smile is small yet knowing. “That’s what you texted me.”
My heart soars but he’s a part of my subconscious so it’s hardly a romantic coincidence but I brush aside the scathing remarks I could make and focus on him. Suddenly both of our smiles are gone and another mood has taken its place entirely.
I'm not resisting anymore.
I've never dreamt of this particular scenario before. I’ve fantasised a thousand times but this is new, perhaps special. I’ll always remember and at least the dreams will be more real from now on, one fewer unknown to taunt me.
I reach through the bars and touch his face, this time of my own volition and not his. I map it with my fingers, feeling the changing texture of his skin as I trace over his stubble, the warmth and vitality that’s mine to savour. My first touch now feels far too fleeting, that kiss to my thumb not enough but forever etched into my memory. Undeletable. John’s hands have moved to my hips, holding me in case I change my mind. I won’t, not now. I dip into his hairline to feel the short, soft hair at his temple before running my fingers back to the nape of his neck. I keep my hand there, resting under his jaw. His pulse is racing. So is mine.
John tilts his head into my hand; he’s been watching me, letting me do as I please but he's eager too. I slip my other hand through the bars, I’m not sure where to touch but I find a natural resting point above his waist. So much skin, I could explore it all but for now I’m to take one kiss. I’ve already taken more than any sane man should. I'm being watched, this is far from a private moment but my only chance. I brush my thumb across his bottom lip, parting his mouth as his eyes close with a sigh. God, that sound.
I lean down, so close to kissing but this must last, I must remember everything, our breath mixing, John’s barely restrained patience as he seeks my mouth, the scent of his skin that’s filling my head, this moment of anticipation.
Oh.
John, oh god, wonderful, um, think, take this in, remember, eager, warm, gentle, hold me closer, more, oh, oh my... more, want to taste, let my tongue touch, oh it's the feel, the soft, flick, taste, breathe him, oh, hands up and down my back, every part of him kisses, I move with him, as one now, this fits, it works, beautiful, kiss top lip, then bottom, more, hold him tighter, need more, never enough, the soft sounds of our kissing, my sighs of bliss I can't even begin to restrain, brilliant, amazing, god John I love you so much-
Click.
We both heard it. We part but just barely, both of us pressed against the bars, his body against mine and arms still wrapped around my back. I didn't need the puzzle at all.
"Mmm... that was sooo sexy but you should have made a move on his arse, wasted opportunity there. Really John, stunning bum! Did the army help it get that perky? Delicious! Any hooo... It's decision tiiiime!"
John frowns with confusion but I step back and gingerly test the bars. They move. I open it completely, "Get out." I order and John wastes no time. This is it, I'm getting him out of here.
"Ooooh, he's free! Fuck him! Fuck him on one of those dirty, filthy mattresses!"
"Oh have a wank and piss off!" John shouts, god I love that fire in him.
"Bad John, you need a spanking!" Moriarty's singing again. "Naughty booooy."
"Come." I grab John's hand and lead him at pace to the door by the control room, hopefully it's the way out of here.
"Can we go kick his head in?"
"You'll need some shoes." Another corridor but no doors, they've been bricked up. "This way. Keep up." I don't let go of his hand, but I don't think either of us want to, not yet.
John's keeping an eye out behind us as I try to find a route out of here. No static. "Wait Sherlock, there's a sign for a lift."
It's hidden under mildew but it's there. We head right and I see the lift at the end of the corridor. We run now, I fear the monsters finding us, hurting John. I need to get him out of Silent Hill, hidden away until I can decide what to do. He's separate from the real John but no less important.
I press the dirt ridden button for the lift. "Uh oh." Damn, Moriarty's off again. "Sherlock, are you sure you really want to do that? Why don't you have another little sloppy snog and I'll explain how you lose this time."
"We're leaving." We need to get to the surface. I'll get my John out of town and waiting for me and then I'll return.
"If that's your decision!"
The lift arrives with a shuddering clang. The doors open and we step inside. They slam shut violently, enough to take off an arm if we were too slow. "Sherlock." John stands close enough to touch. I do, I can. It's all I can do not to kiss him again. Nothing hidden on his face, he feels for me. "Thank you."
"Not required." He pulls me down for another kiss, brief and chaste.
"I'm going to have to be a lot less naked or somewhere much more private before you kiss me like that again, I have no self control left."
My jaw drops and I lose a breath, to have that effect on John, to be desired. I can't take my hands off him as I run them up and down his arms. "When this is over. I promise you everything."
The radio again, "I've just had a little chat with one of my minions, don't you just love having minions? So eager to please, a lot like your John. Or John's, well, the ones that don't try to murder you or get blown up."
"Get to the point." I'm growing weary of him, John won't be safe until he's clear of the town and I don't expect god or Moriarty will make it easy. I saved this one.
"They're bringing John to me. The real John. You remember him don't you? The one who won't touch your cock. You see, you chose."
I chose.
John pulls free from me and stands as far away as he can cradling his own head. "No, no, no. I'm sorry, oh fuck, Sherlock."
"Too late now to worry about him, you've got loverboy there, sure you can pass him off as the real thing, you can tell people he caught 'gay' while camping. Not that people didn't think you weren't already shagging his dumb little brains out. Ugh, he's so ordinary, I don't know how you can bear it."
No, I can't leave John to him. I won't leave any John to him. "I'll come for him, I'll take them both."
"YOU CAN'T HAVE THEM BOTH." He roars before laughing. "You got the better deal, someone's on a promise tonight!"
No, think, I can save them both. Mycroft, tell me what to do. "I won't let you take him."
"Too late."
Pain. No, I need them both, I want them both. Nnnnngg, hurts. I crumple up in the corner of the lift, there's no sirens, just pain everywhere, everything hurts, excruciating, no, no, no. Oh god. John's effected too, crawling to get to me but the pain, it's too much. I'm losing him, I'm losing everything because I took what I wanted just once. I reach out and grab his hand, it's all I can do. He squeezes tight, he loves me back but it was too good to keep. This one loved me back. John's saying something, I can't- I can't make it out. I don't know if I'm saying the words aloud, everything feels wrong, "Stay alive, stay alive, stay alive."
~~~*~~~
"No!" I awake suddenly on the sofa. Home, I'm... what was... The front door slams, I move to the side of the door and wait for my assailant. The dream, it was so vivid, almost real, I'm in danger.
"Bloody sodding buses." Comes a grumble from the hallway. Just John. How long has he been gone? Have I been asleep the whole day? I don't remember falling asleep there. No time to think about that, the dream is fading, I need a pen, I need a pen, where are the bloody pens!
"What's up with you?"
"Pen John, NOW!" I need to be quick.
John pulls a biro from his breast pocket and throws it to me. I start to write. "Not on the wall!"
Empty streets, deserted, evacuated? The dream is fading too fast. Danger, searching, running, fear.
"What are you-"
"Shush! I'm trying to remember." I close my eyes, I see the grey streets. Fog. Inside. Church. Not mainstream, metallic taste - blood. "Damnit!" It's fading, I need to remember more, this is useless to me. "I was searching for something, what was it?" Think! Remember! Blood. I draw something, just circles but there's more but I can't remember. There's not enough detail. How did the dream start? I keep writing: Phone = Dread. "Where's my phone?" I start looking through my pockets. I find it. The last text I received has corrupted. John looks over my shoulder.
"What's going on? Is this a case?"
"Might be." I throw the phone away. Something/Someone? Mine, something belonging to me. I missed it.
"Someone's taken something of yours?"
"I don't know." I can't remember details, just the lingering feelings. I can't think of anything I'm sentimental about to feel such... loss. Only... "You."
"Me?"
It was a dream, a vivid one. John was missing, he was in danger, I can't shake the feeling of fear. Fear for him. "Draw some bloods, I might have been drugged." It's the only explanation.
"Just an average day then." John sighs and grabs a bag from the under the stairs where we store some enhanced first aid supplies suited to our lifestyle. I stare at my scrawled words on the wall. I underline, 'Someone'. "Symptoms?"
"Memory loss, vivid dreams. A feeling of dread." I sit on the sofa and try to force myself to remember but it's lost to me, lost in the fog of my mind.
"Hmm, could be benzo's, hard to pick up in tests. Know when you were exposed?" He kneels in front of me and puts on a pair of latex gloves.
"No." I heard John leave for work, I was in bed. I think. Even that memory is unclear.
"Well at least you know it wasn't me." John smiles. "When did you last eat? Do you remember?"
"Irrelevant, time is of the essence." I tap my arm, every second counts. "I'll eat afterwards."
"I'll cook you something proper and you'll eat it all." John wraps my arm with a length of rubber tube and a vein presents itself almost immediately. They've always been greedy. My eyes drift to the wall and the word 'Church'.
"A biscuit will suffice. Now bleed me." He sighs and finally sinks the needle into my skin. Sharp like an electric shock. I always watch the needle.
"Insufferable git."
"You couldn't do without me."
John's face darkens as he concentrates with needless intent on the procedure he's performed countless times. "No. I couldn't. I really couldn't and that scares me." He's not joking but I can't dare to think what he means and why he's telling me this. He's not looking at me, I can't read his expression. Why hide from me if those are purely words of friendship? My failing is that I know what I want it to mean; it's clouding my judgement.
"John?"
"How many vials?"
"Two." I reply blankly. I look down at him and not the needle now. What if he wasn't here? What if I woke and there was no one coming home? What if I woke up tomorrow and my life was like it was before John? I don't want to go back, I need him. John, cases, oxygen, sustenance. All I need to survive. If I'd not let him move in, if I'd never let him under my skin, into my chest, my heart. "I hate this, I should have told you to sod off ages ago."
"You hate what?" John clears his throat swaps the vials and starts filling a second.
"This! Needing someone, wanting someone." Foolish mistake. "Someone around, to uh talk to, and assist me. On cases."
John looks up at me curiously yet he smiles. "Insufferable."
We sit in silence until the last vial fills. John removes the needle, presses a ball of cotton wool into the crook of my arm and tapes it in place with one well practiced manoeuvre. I'm feeling better, the dread is fading. He's not missing, he's right here. We can forget our half conversation over dinner and everything will return to normal. "Thank you, food then."
"Sherlock?" He sits next to me then shifts as he's sat on something. He sets a small radio on the side table before turning his attention back to me. "I meant it. I couldn't..." Tell me, please, I need to know. "Never mind. Food." He goes to get up but something makes me grab his wrist and keep him next to me. I need to know.
"Me neither." I think I said the words properly, my whole body feels awkward, I don't know what I'm doing. I've taken a leap and there's no telling how I'll land.
"Really?"
"Yes. I..." I shift my hold from his wrist and tentatively touch my finger tips to John's slightly clammy palm. He's nervous but so am I. My pulse is racing and my mouth is dry, not unlike a chase but so much more depends on my every action. I could be reading this incorrectly, I want more, not once, I want always. His hand turns as he responds, allowing our fingers to slowly lace together. My skin looks deathly pale next to his but the way our hands fit is perfection. "Yes."
My attention leaves the unique site of our entwined hands when I feel John move closer. Oh. My eyes close as his lips meet mine. Prison. I pull back, what was that? "Ok." John says sadly and let's go of my hand. "Um, right. I'll get the food on."
"No, don't go." I take back his hand, it's mine now. "I just felt a little dizzy." No more mistakes. Focus, let the dream go. I summon a little courage and reaffirm to myself that I have permission to touch him. I turn his face to mine. "I want to kiss you."
Oh.
~~~*~~~
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Sherlock, what the fuck? That's not me, that's not fucking me!
"Oh don't be jealous, Johnny." He drags his hand across my bare shoulders. Fucker has me gagged and hogtied with the rope around my neck almost choking me. I'm naked on my knees in front of a sodding radio in some dingy hotel. Sherlock thinks he's talking to me, how's that even possible? Oh god, I don't know how to get out of this. My shoulder is killing me but I try to shift away, fuck.
"Sherlock's found someone who can better meet his emotional and intellectual needs." He bends over to whisper in my ear. I can feel his breath on me, god it's disgusting. "Also, he reeeeally wanted to stick his cock up you." Ugh, get away, fuck, uugghh, his tongue... licking my face. "But you wouldn't let him! Of course he had to find a new you, tut tut, selfish pet." He shoves me down on to my side and the rope pulls tighter around my neck.
Oh god, someone help me.
"Don't you worry. I'll take care of this whole 'god' business and finish off the girl and then..." He tosses a vial of red liquid around in his hands. Oh god he's going after Hannah, son of a fucking bitch. "We're going to have so. Much. Fun!"
Escape, escape, escape. Ropes too tight, gag, can't speak, I try to shout but... fuck, oh god, Sherlock's not coming for me. No one's coming for me. Fuck Sherlock, I didn't know, you never said. I keep pulling on the ropes but it's just making them tighter and even harder to breathe. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Moriarty's going to kill me. He stands at my head, staring down at me. Oh god... I hope he only wants to kill me.
"Mmmm... sexy naked John."