Work Text:
'you can't wake up;
this is not a dream;
you're a part of a machine;
you are not a human being.'
Halsey, Gasoline.
"Nobody wants you around here, Freak."
Donovan whispers the words almost joyfully into Sherlock's ears. She takes great pleasure in seeing him flinch away from her, and she laughs to herself in her head when she sees the effect the words have had on the consulting detective; his skin is paler than usual and the normally composed look on his face has faltered for all but a moment. A moment which Donovan saw.
"Bye, Freak! I won't be seeing you around!" Her words are light and joyful, and if he didn't know her Sherlock would guess that it was an inside joke between them. But it is not, and it leaves Sherlock pale and withdrawn.
The second he gets the chance, he leaves the crime scene. Leaving right then would have been suspicious. So he waits until John is ready, and then they leave the crime scene.
And if Sherlock is a bit paler than usual when they leave, John doesn't mention anything, and if John holds his hand a little bit longer than is necessary, Sherlock pretends not to notice anything different.
It's when they get to home that Sherlock allows himself to break down. His breathing is shaky and uneven, and he finds that he has to sink down into a chair because his legs won't support him, and there's a strange lump in his throat and why does he feel like crying all of a sudden?
Gentle hands grip his wrists and Sherlock thinks John because the whole action screams John all over, and in that moment Sherlock Holmes does not care about his reputation, all he cares about is John Watson, the blogger who he'd be lost without. He can tell that John is unsure of what to do, but when John unsteadily pulls him into a hug it feels right, so for the first time in a long time Sherlock gives and is given a hug.
John's arms never once leave him, and somehow they end up with foreheads touching. John's pupils are dilated, and they're both breathing fast.
And that is when John kisses him.
At first it leaves him shocked, so he doesn't respond for half a second. Then everything goes into overdrive. He's aware of John's lips on his, and how it fills him with a warmth and joy. He's aware of the soft pants coming from their mouths, and he's aware of the way his hands fit perfectly around John's neck, pulling him in close. They fit together perfectly, two pieces of a puzzle that when joined together create the whole picture.
Eventually they have to part for breath. Sherlock's forehead is touching John's, and one of the other's hands cups his cheek. John's free hand holds Sherlock's. Sherlock's other hand is still
"That was perfect," John whispers breathlessly, voice catching.
Sherlock can't help but agree.
[And for a moment, Sherlock forgets about whatever it was Donovan said to him, and he finds that it doesn't matter as much any more, because John is here.]