Coming Home (Sherlock)

[missthingsplace]

Title: Coming Home
Author: missthingsplace
Parings/characters: Sherlock Holmes/Doctor John Watson
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or any of the characters ... unfortunately, just borrowing them for a while.
Summary: When John finally returns to the flat he finds an unexpected person.
Warnings: Slash, romance
Spoilers: Spoilers for the end of series 2
Rating: PG

A/N: This is the first time in a very long time that i have written in any fandom other than Torchwood and i am very nervous posting this ... i hope you enjoy :) More Utopia soon.

He hovered at the door to the flat, his eyes flicking to the number before him – 221B - with the key in his hand. Plucking up the courage Doctor John Watson slid the key into the lock, turned it slowly and then pushed the door open.

The Doctor shut it quietly behind him and began to walk slowly up the stairs to the flat he had shared with Sherlock and after taking a very deep breath he let himself in, shivered in the cold air of a flat unoccupied for some months and wondered where to start.

There was so much of the other man's stuff there to remind him of what he had lost. The violin set propped up against the wall beneath the window waiting patiently to be played. The dressing gown he spent so much time in while at home draped haphazardly over the back of one of the armchairs.

And the used whisky glass set upon the small occasional table next to the other armchair, that faced away from him with a bottle beside it. John shuddered with the cold, and muttered to himself.

“Pull yourself together John, he's gone.”

He never expected an answer.

“Is he? You really believed I was dead? I am flattered,”

“Sherlock?” John spluttered. “Oh great, now I'm bloody hearing voices!”

John's feet almost left the floor in shock when the man in questions face suddenly appeared around the wing of the chair.

“No ghost, it's really me,” Sherlock told him. “did you really believe I was dead?”

“I saw you throw yourself off a building, what else was I supposed to think?” John asked, anger in his tone of voice.

“That you know me better than that?” Sherlock snarked. “I heard you at my grave, wishing me to be alive.”

“You were there, at your own funeral?” John snapped.

“I wanted to check on you … that you were okay,” Sherlock answered honestly.

“And what you said? Was that true?” John questioned. “That you set it all up, everything since I first knew you was a con.”

“No,” Sherlock replied simply.

“Then why say it?” John asked, clearly angry and frustrated with the man.

“Moriarty, he had snipers trained on you, Mrs Hudson and Molly,” Sherlock told him. “if I didn't say what he wanted and then kill myself he was going to have all three of you killed and I couldn't let him do that.”

“You believed him?” John gasped.

“I had no reason not to,” Sherlock answered, finally getting to his feet and moving to face the other man. “I didn't want to live knowing I had been the cause of your death.”

“Thank you,” John said sincerely, then adding. “not that it means I'm not angry with you for not telling me sooner that you were still alive.”

“I wasn't sure whether or not to just vanish for your life for ever, of if I could for that matter,” Sherlock admitted. “I tried it, it didn't work, I had to see you again.”

“Did holding my hand give you idea's?” John asked with a nervous laugh.

“No, not exactly,” Sherlock answered, stepping a little closer towards the doctor.

“Oh god, I should have seen it earlier,” John groaned. “I've never seen you with a girlfriend, or boyfriend for the matter … don't tell me, you're gay but celibate?”

“I don't have time for … distractions,” Sherlock told him. “I needed to keep a clear mind. Until now.”

“Well, don't look at me, I'm straight,” John huffed. “I date girls, women remember?”

“And how long do they last?” Sherlock smirked. “You go through girlfriends like I go through clean socks.”

“True, but that doesn't mean ...” John began but didn't get any further.

Sherlock reached forwards, took a step in the same direction and promptly kissed the surprised Doctor Watson on the lips until he pulled back, startled. 

“Are you telling me you didn't enjoy that?” Sherlock asked. “Because you kissed me back.”

“Only for a second, you took me by surprise,” John protested.

“Okay, this time I'm going to tell you,” Sherlock said. “I am going to kiss you.”

“Oh no you're not!” John exclaimed.

“I am,” Sherlock assured him.

John looked him in the eyes and gulped, but didn't move then Sherlock pressed his lips to his again. His lips remaining resolutely closed until the other man moved again so their bodies were pressed against each other and Sherlock's hand found the back of his neck.

Letting out a small moan John could resist no more, his lips parted allowing Sherlock's tongue to plunge into his mouth, losing himself in the moment as their tongues tangled and fought for dominance while their lips and teeth clashed with the intensity of their new found passion until they pulled apart long minutes later, panting hard.

“Well, that was different,” John said quietly.

“Good different?” Sherlock asked.

“Yeah, actually, good different,” the Doctor nodded, wrapping his arms around the other man's neck and offering his slightly swollen lips for another kiss.

The End.

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[missthingsplace]

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