Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"When does he turn you on, exactly?" Molly asked with a serious tone, but all of a sudden she burst into giggles. "I bet you have a military kink, don't you? John is attractive when he is being Captain Watson, I must admit."

"Military kin- NO! As stupid as always, Molly, aren't you? I've said thousand and thousand times that I have never felt sexually attracted to John, ever!" Sherlock groaned.

"But romantic feelings require sexual attracation, don't they?" Lestrade asked, his arms crossed on his chest. "John likes sex a lot, Sherlock, and you know that. If you don't fulfill his desires, then I'm afraid you'd face some problmes."

A laugh echoed in the room, as Moriarty stood up from his chair. "Who said John does have the desires, you ordinary stupid people? He keeps saying I'm Not Gay everyday and everytime and everywhere so much that I've started to wonder if it's his actual name. He might get disguste-"

"Sherlock just said he doesn't feel sexually attracted, which means his feelings aren't romantic. He doesn't want John as a boyfriend. Besides, on the first day, John said he's totally okay with Sherlock being gay, remember?" Molly stated.

"If it's not romantic, then, obviously it's just friendly affection. We are putting too much effort on this, there's nothing to be figured out, brother mine. Just get out of this mind palace of yours, I'm sure I heard John asking you a question." Mycroft smiled, leaning onto his umbrella.

"Do you think I wouldn't have known if it was friendly affection? It isn't, that's why I'm here. It's something more that I can't put my finger on it."

"Brotherly affection, perhaps?"

"No, not that either. Something more... Romantic feelings and friendly or brotherly affection are nothing compared to how I feel about him." Sherlock said, closing his eyes and trying to focus.

"Well do repeat how you feel about him again." Lestrade sat down on a chair that just appeared out of nowhere, listening carefully.

Sherlock sighed. This was the hardest question of his life so far, and he had to answer it every single day to himself.

"I will both die and kill for him. I am willing to come back from death just to protect him, and I have. He brightens my day. No, he brightened my life. His smile is reassuring and warm. I don't find him pretty. He doesn't have the prettiness men look for in their partner, therefore I don't have romantic feelings towards him. But I do find him beautiful. Very beautiful, in fact; inside and out. I really want to grab his face and pull him close and kiss him sometimes, therefore it's not friendly or brotherly affection. But I don't seek pleasure in it, therefore I don't feel sexually attracted.

Actually, I seek happiness in kissing him. I want to kiss him when he's being too stupid or very clever, or when he is giving me coffee even though I didn't ask for any, or when he smiles at me, or when he praises me though nobody does, or when he-"

"Enough, enough." Lestrade let out a dry chuckle, "These were exactly what you said an hour ago, and in the morning, and last night, and the day before that and days and weeks before that."

"That is correct, brother mine, you're doing yourself no help." Mycroft sighed.

"We are never going to figure this out, are we?" Molly asked with a low, defeated voice. "Let's end it here, Sherlock. Get out of your mind pa-"

"We are figuring this out NOW!" Sherlock shouted, slamming his palms on a table that wasn't there until now. "I have to know how I feel, and I have to know it right now!"

"Oh come on Sherl, you know that we've had this conversation like one hundred times, isn't it getting dull for you?" Moriarty whined.

Sherlock ignored him, like he always does. The Moriarty in his mind palace isn't useful at all, if anything, he's a pain in the ass. The only useful appearance he's ever had was when he reminded Sherlock of how much of a danger John would be in if Sherlock died. He just appears sometimes out of the shadows, trying to bring Sherlock down, to disappoint him.

"Alright, then listen carefuly." Mycroft said, leaning closer. "If you want this to end right now, then we shall do just that. If you were to figure this out, you would have weeks ago, right after the question popped up. So, no matter how much you look for a reasonable explanation of your feelings, you will find none.

Because that's how sentiments are, brother. They are there for no reason sometimes, stronger than anything your brain would say. So just stop looking for it, and accept it as it is."

Mostly, the conversation was the same everytime, but Sherlock hadn't heard Mycroft saying that until today. "Then what do you say I do?"

"Just accept what is true in general."

"And what is that?" Sherlock asked.

"You love him." Molly said, smiling.

Chapter Text

"John, there's something I should say, I've meant to say always and I never have. Since it's unlikely we'll ever meet again, I might as well say it now."

John looked up at Sherlock, and Sherlock immediately decided that John was one of the most adorable creatures there ever was and ever will be on the planet.

His eyes showed the saddness and rage of a soldier buried deep inside, yet they were showing nothing but innocence in the same time. His cute nose (Sherlock had always thought John's nose was cute, not that he'd say it outloud) was pointed somehow upwards. He was nibbling gently on his bottom lip which Sherlock wanted to capture with his owns very badly, but he didn't. Not until he tells him.

Tells him?

"Not now, idiot! What are you doing?!" The loud voice echoed through Sherlock's head, making him turn around to face a furious Mycroft; they were in Buckingham Palace.
Oh, so it was the mind palace. When did he enter his mind palace?
"I thought I made it quite clear that 'you are going to your death', yet here you are, about to make the worst mistake."

"We came to the conclusion that I love John and I love him more than anything." They hadn't talked about the last part, loving him more than anything, but Sherlock just decided now that he did. "So what is the problem?"

"But we... I mean you, you didn't say anything about actually telling him." Molly said, fiddling with her fingers.

"Exactly." Lestrade was there now, too. "Don't be an ignorant dickhead for once, Sherlock. You shouldn't tell him now, it's too late." Sherlock narrowed his eyes, waiting for further explanation.

"John is emotional and you know that. Telling him right now will end in no good." Mycroft put his elbows on a desk, locking his fingers together in front of his face, giving his brother a thoughtful look. "If you tell him you love him, he will be destroyed, Sherlock. You know him well, he probably won't answer you now, but as days pass he will keep blaming himself for that, for not telling you how he feels."

"And he will start to think about you much more than he should. Everyday, every night before sleep, anytime he gets the chance. But he can't reach you then, because you're probably dead." Lestrade said, "But he doesn't know that you are dead, so he will keep looking for you."

"Yes, and he will either find out you're dead, or he will wait forever for you which is even worse." Molly muttered.

Sherlock kept quiet for a moment, then made a confused face. "So what's the point of all that?"

"He will be in pain, Sherl." Moriarty sing-songed, appearing out of the shadows. He was walking around the room now. "And in such great pain. He will have to suffer forever either way. And forever means until he dies."

And then, Sherlock froze. Pain. Putting his John in pain. With his own words.

"You want him to suffer until his last breath, Sherl?" Moriarty made a fake sad face, pouting. Sherlock just ignored him in order to make him go away.

"So what are you going to do?" Mycroft asked after a few seconds of silence.

"Not tell him. Hide my feelings. Like always..." Sherlock muttered, looking down.

"Correct, very good, brother mine. And what else?"

"My heart will clench and hurt and ache, and I will have to carry the heavy burden of my feelings forever, until I die. But it's worth it if John can live the happy life he deserves. I want him happy, I've caused him enough pain."

And suddenly, he was back to reality. John was looking at him in anticipation.

Sherlock smiled. He looked at his soldier's face carefuly and with adoration, memorizing everything. After all, the photos he had of John weren't going to be as lively as him up close. He knew very well that this was the last time he could feel this, feel John.

Then, with his heart clenching and hurting and aching, he said his last words.

"Sherlock is actually a girl's name."