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The puzzle was in place all its pieces laid out in front of him waiting to be placed. Slowly meticulously he created the edges, a shell. Soon to be filled but first it must be cleared.
Then piece by piece a trust was formed that the next piece would always find its home. It may take time to find it and where it goes but the promise still stands. With each piece placed it became clear that so many more were missing.
Lost. Forgotten.
~~~
They were at a crime scene, although that was nothing new. Sherlock was running around like a madman going off about body parts or something. Someone- Katey?-laid dead from something John tried not to pay attention, it was far too early for this.- All he knew was that the last name was Landers.- Lestrade was yelling at Sherlock half heartedly but he was just as tired.
Sherlock had woken him up before the sun had even risen and whisked him off to the crime scene not even bothering to let him get a cup of coffee. So there he stood with four or so other officers drinking slushy, crappy coffee out of a paper cup in the freezing hours of the morning.
Sherlock was just a ball of energy apparently. He wouldn't shut up and John just wanted to go to sleep. Apparently that was too much to ask.
"John." Sherlock beckoned him over and the officers around him looked at him like a piece of meat given up to the beast to spare them. In a way he was.
"Coming." John grumbled binning his cup of disgustingness and walking over. The body was odd. By odd he meant dead. Obviously.
Oh christ it was too early for this.
"What am I..?" John asked lost, motioning to the body. He didn't understand why he had to be here. Maybe Sherlock wanted him to be the next victim, lure out the killer or something. Like a sacrifice. He'd freeze to death then be offered up to the killer on a silver platter. Or if that took too long maybe they'd kill him as well. That'd be nice. Anything for more sleep and warmth.
"Examine the body, Dr Watson." Sherlock snipped back. Arse. So John got down on his knees onto freezing icy ground and went through the motions of looking over the body mechanically. Muscle memory helping him throughout the process as his legs started losing feeling.
"Four days dead, froze, cut after, now can we go home?" John complained lifting an arm for Sherlock to pull him up. As annoying as he was Sherlock would still help him up off the ground, he understood the problem of John's leg pains and helped him. Occasionally.
"No, still have to determine something." Sherlock helped lifting John up, then in a flourish started running down an alleyway. "Be back in a moment!" He called back. How he didn't trip is a miracle in itself.
John made his way to a car and propped himself up against it. His leg was already throbbing in protest from the cold, especially after being on icy the ground. John just wanted to go home. This was too much. Lestrade was muttering something about hoping he did fall just to get him to slow down. John didn't care much he just wanted to be home.
Just as John was about to hijack one of the cars and go home Sherlock's rapid footsteps came from the alley behind him, opposite the one he ran into. As he turned around -as did the police force- he found himself with an armful of consulting detective and soon enough a face full. It was luck that they didn't fall with John's weak leg. For some reason John couldn't fathom Sherlock had decided to practically jump into his arms grab his face and stuck his tongue down Johns throat.
John was far to shocked to do anything but just stand there as Sherlock snogged the living daylights out of him. Though it did effectively warm him. When Sherlock pulled away he was grinning madly.
"You're absolutely brilliant John." He exclaimed then proved to walk towards the street to hail a cab. "I think it's time we headed home."
John was far too shocked to do anything but stand there looking at the place Sherlock had been, arms still up where he was holding the consulting detective up just moments ago. He turned his head tentatively over to the side to see the whole MET just stood there staring at him and some at Sherlock with shell shocked expressions. Sherlock paid them no mind and got into the cab.
John followed, his face heating up significantly and ignored every person staring in favor of trying to figure out what the hell Sherlock was thinking.
~~~
That's when he found a few more pieces they had fallen to the floor in his haste to put the puzzle together. They had been hiding for so long they were a bit misshapen and warped from their time on the floor.
Each piece placed came with relief and warmth a feeling of completion as well as security that they wouldn't be moved again.
Nowhere near perfect but they fit which was all that mattered. Yet there were still missing pieces the center ones. Most important ones.
Misplaced. Hidden.
~~~
After that they didn't speak of it or John tried and Sherlock made excuses and/or ignored him. That was getting on John's nerves, Sherlock was never quiet unless he was in his mind palace even then he would still mumble. So John found it very unnerving when he wouldn't talk to him unless it was about a case or tea. He kept trying for a few days then another case rolled in and it was forgotten in the hecticness of it all.
They were running now, unfortunately they were running away from the killer and his gang. Less than five minutes ago, the roles were reversed until he pulled out a gun and his friends joined him with weapons of their own. John had unfortunately dropped his own gun in their haste to get away. Oh yeah, it was also raining.
"Would it be better or worse if we split up!?" John yelled ahead at Sherlock over the rain as he rounded a corner.
"Worse! It wouldn't matter! There are far too many!" Sherlock yelled back, turning back to look at him and almost hitting a trash bin in the process. "Up!"
"What?!" John yelled following him around another corner to see Sherlock scrambling up a fire escape. "Oh." John breathed rushing up as well, halfway up the some of the gang showed up pointing their guns at him. Sherlock grabbed his arm and yanked him up the rest of the way, just barely avoiding a bullet and causing the fire escape to flip up and hit one of the guys in the face. John in the back of his mind thought it cheesy and rather comical. Sherlock vaulted onto the roof and John tried as well but couldn't quite make it, being as short as he was.
"Grab my hand!" Sherlock yelled, putting his hand down to him but John hesitated a bullet hit the wall next to his head. "Now is not the time for an identity crisis, John! Grab my hand, now!" Sherlock screamed and John grabbed on and Sherlock pulled him up on as another bullet hit right where he had been standing.
"Christ." John breathed out as he fell next to Sherlock, he was getting up again.
"Come on." Sherlock grabbed his arm and they were off again leaping over rooftops almost slipping in the rain, this time hand in hand, holding each other up in a way. They dropped down into another fire escape and ran down a few flights before falling against the wall. Sherlock places a finger to his lips and John made sure to keep his heavy breathing quiet. They heard the gang run past over them and when they were gone both sighed in relief, John sagged onto Shelrocks side completely worn out. For some reason they both just looked at each other and lost it they just started giggling and couldn't stop. Probably some kind of hysteria from escaping death.
For some reason Sherlock moved and John almost fell -as he had put most of his weight on him- but Sherlock was in front of him pinning him to the wall, effectively holding him up. Then all of a sudden Sherlock's lips were on his and for some reason -John couldn't comprehend- he was kissing back.
Sherlock's hands were on his hips and Johns were around Sherlock's neck and in his hair, completely immersed in the feeling of his lips. Later John would blame it on the hysteria but in that moment he couldn't stop himself. There wasn't a fight for dominance John was far too tired for anything but to admit to Sherlock's talented tongue. When they parted Sherlock laid his forehead on John's own, they were both breathing heavily -from running and also kissing- their breaths mingling in the rain dripping down from the platform above them. John's arms fell to Sherlock's chest holding onto his wet coat with freezing fingers, they were both starting to shiver.
"We should go before we catch something." John muttered quietly hardly audible over the rain hitting the metal stairs. Sherlock let out a heavy breath flowing over John's face in an almost comforting way.
Sherlock backed away looking behind him over the railing at the storm. Sherlock grabbed John's hand and they were running again, this time without the threat upon their lives but from the downpour. When they did make it home they both shook off the rain they could and then took turns showering. Sherlock showered first so John could start up a fire, they were lucky Mrs Hudson had moved the firewood into 221C instead of in the alleyway like she usually did. Sherlock came out in his usual nightly attire and they switched, Sherlock to the fire and John to the shower. After John had showered he discovered Sherlock had taken all the blankets and pillows and made an almost bed like structure in front of the blazing hearth.
John joined him in the mound and they just sat in comfortable silence watching the fire burn. After a while John leaned his head on Sherlock's shoulder tired of holding himself upright. Apparently Sherlock was as well, as he laid his own head on John's but not before pulling John's chair over to use as a backrest first.
They hadn't spoken since they entered the flat. Neither had the words anyway.
There wasn't a point to words when actions were much better and without a care in the world they fell asleep.
~~~
The subject of either of the kisses was never brought up. John understood now why Sherlock wouldn't answer him before, because if someone asked him what the hell he just did he wouldn't know what to tell them.
~~~
The pieces he was looking for had been gone for so long he had forgotten there wasn't supposed to be a hole in the center. He filled a bit more with the pieces he found, only five pieces missing now.
But where had he hidden them?
Absent. Gone.
~~~
In the morning John woke up to Sherlock on the phone with presumably Lestrade. John himself was still laid out on the mound of blankets and pillows from last night. He had expected to wake up with all kinds of pain from sleeping on the floor especially from his shoulder and was pleasantly surprised when he stretched out and found no resistance. Sherlock probably thought of that and did something about it, he could be incredibly thoughtful when he was in the mood to be.
John sat up blurry eyed and leaned against his chair which was still across from the fireplace. He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to wake up but just found himself nodding off on the chair. He needed tea but it was so far away.
Like reading his thoughts -or just knowing what he needed in the morning- Sherlock brought him over a cup of steaming peppermint tea just like he had made about every morning he could. Sherlock was still on his phone having what seemed to be a heated conversation with the DI. John hummed happily as to not disturb Sherlock's call but smiled at him and got a twitch of the detectives lips in response before he was back to spitting remarks. He took a sip and was surprised that Sherlock didn't put any sugar in it just as he liked it. John was very particular to which teas you put sugar in and don't in others, apparently Sherlock was paying attention to that. It warmed him just a bit more.
Sherlock hung up and started pacing behind John prattling on about something or other. John couldn't keep up.
"I need to go out." Sherlock said grabbing his coat he wasn't actually dressed properly but he didn't seem to care. John couldn't find it in him to reprimand him, he was far too happy.
"Where?" John asked straining his neck to look past the chair to the stairway where Sherlock was putting on his shoes.
"The yard. Blubbering idiots need me to identify one of the thugs from last night. I don't know why they can't just follow my description. Idiots the lot of them." Sherlock grumbled grabbing his scarf and arranging it oh his neck. "I managed to get you out of it and It shouldn't take more than an hour."
"Thank you but are you sure you don't want me to come with you? We can suffer together." John said chuckling and actually got a smile out of Sherlock who walked over to him.
"No there's no point to this anyway. We shouldn't both have to waste time with something so dull." John was going to point out that identifying a killer shouldn't be considered dull but was silence when Sherlock place a kiss on his forehead and started walking back towards the door. John just sort of sat there dumbfounded. Since when did they become so domesticated? "Breakfast is on the stove and there is paracetamol on the counter if your shoulder is hurting you. I'll be back as soon as I can." With that Sherlock was gone.
John could hardly comprehend what he had heard. Sherlock had made breakfast and put paracetamol out in case his shoulder was hurting. How oddly considerate. That definitely wasn't Sherlock.
John hauled himself up to go see if what Sherlock said was true, bringing along his tea. There it was in all its glory, albeit it was just eggs and bacon but from Sherlock who never cooked this was practically a gourmet meal. John served himself and ate humming appreciatively to himself at how good it was.
"Sherlock finally made you some breakfast, hmm?" John almost choked in surprise.
"Mrs Hudson." John coughed a bit and looked over to see her pick things up around the fireplace. "What do you mean, 'finally'?"
"Oh, he's been talking about it for weeks you know. All nervous about what he should cook he practiced downstairs in my kitchen. First time you should've seen it smoke everywhere black char in my new pans. It was dreadful." She prattled on about how she couldn't get the smell out for weeks.
John sat with a small smile he could picture Sherlock all frustrated not being able to do something so simple. It must have driven him up the wall. And he did it for John. How he didn't notice John has no idea. Though in Sherlock's words he was an idiot.
John helped Mrs Hudson clean up and then they sat and talked a bit but she had to go eventually. So John curled up into his chair and pulled out a book he's been meaning to read and with a fresh cup of tea he ventured into his book.
~~~
He knew he had hidden the pieces in a box locked up with a key long gone. He couldn't remember why he put them in there but he remembered it was important.
He needed to finish the puzzle. How important was the box with a lock to not open. It mustn't be very important if he wasn't supposed to open it.
He opened it found the outline preparing for the final pieces.
~~~
"There was absolutely no reason for me to go John! Your lucky you didn't go! You would've been so bored!" Sherlock yelled up the stairs as he pounded off his feet to get off the mud. "I know I was!"
John chuckled as he placed his book on the floor next to his chair as Sherlock bounded up the stairs. Sherlock walked up to him and kissed his forehead again as if this was something they did daily. John just sort of blinked as Sherlock went to the kitchen.
"Sherlock?" John asked getting up and joining him in the kitchen.
"Hmm?" Sherlock was cleaning. Well he was cleaning to make a place for his microscope but he was still cleaning not just through things around like he usually did.
"You made me breakfast." Sherlock looked up at him then.
"Yes. Did you enjoy it?" He said casually as if he didn't care either way though the underlying of vulnerability struck John where he didn't think Sherlock could.
"I did, very much actually." The relief in Sherlock's eyes was evident and John found it odd that he suddenly cared about another's opinion. "Just wondering, why? Not that I mind or anything but you usually avoid cooking like the plague. What changed?"
"Wanted to do something nice. Problem?" Sherlock asked almost anxiously.
"No offense or anything Sherlock but you never do anything nice." A bitter laugh came from Sherlock and John studied his expression in more depth.
"Maybe that's why I want to." Sherlock said bitterly before taking on a more subdued expression. "John I am a ridiculous man as you already know, I wreck the flat, put body parts in the fridge and I do experiments on your belongings. I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant and all around obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune of meeting. And yet you John Watson seem to be the one and only constant presence in my life, for what reason I can not possibly fathom. I have been horrible to you John and for some reason I have only just realized. I am truly sorry." Sherlock hung his head ashamed refusing to look at John's eyes.
"Sherlock." He stared resolutely at the microscope in front of him suddenly unsure and acting the opposite of the cocky confident detective John knew so well. "Look at me, please." He reluctantly lifted his head to meet John's eyes, confidence was nonexistent in his own eyes just doubt with an underlying fear.
"Do you really think I'd stick around if I thought you weren't treating me right. Yeah you can be an arse but so can I. We all have our days, you sometimes more than mine but your who you are. I like who you are. Why do you think I'm still here?" John took a breath and laid his hand on Sherlock's own. "I like you for you, not for your ability to act Sherlock. I don't care how much of an arse you are as long as your not putting up a front and just being you. You don't have to apologize because you didn't do anything wrong. I stay because I want to and nothing you do will make be leave so get that out of your head." John rounded the table and held out his arms although he was starting to hide it Sherlock looked ready to burst into tears. "Now come and hug me you git."
Sherlock didn't waste any time and actually fell into John's embrace even in a rare chance of seeing behind his mask, John didn't try to look into Sherlock's face to figure out what he was thinking or manipulate him while his defenses were down. Sherlock hid his face in John's shoulder trying to collect himself at least a little bit. Sherlock breathed in Johns calming smell a mixture of something like tea, biscuits, fire and something very distinctly John. It was comforting and Sherlock felt safe for the first time in a long while.
~~~
The pieces were coming together as if they wanted to be together, longing to be connected. Pressing into each other to click into place till only three pieces were missing.
Concealed. Unnoticeable.
~~~
Sherlock was on his laptop at the table in the living room, he was searching through unknown chemicals for the recent case. John was sitting by his side with a plate of food that he picked at and fed Sherlock more than he ate himself.
"Hmm." John hummed as he poked Sherlock's side. Sherlock opened his mouth obediently as John put food into his mouth. After their conversation last week Sherlock had been a lot more perceptive to Johns needs and had been doing most things John asked him.
He wouldn't eat though. No matter what John did after those few days of their conversation Sherlock wouldn't eat. Unless John fed him.
That was more Sherlock being a dick and also loving how John did things for him. Sherlock had been thinking about it more and more and had come to the realization he liked John more than friends probably should. It was borderline love but he wouldn't admit it, well not yet. John's minds was around the same line of thought recently.
"'Lock." Sherlock opened his mouth again to accept another bite. That was another thing, one day John had just called him 'Lock' by accident and was embarrassed and started apologizing profusely when Sherlock just said 'I like it'. John uses it almost all the time now. Sherlock gets butterflies every time and has to repress a smile. As John lifted the fork to his mouth again as voice came from the door, John looked behind him at it.
"Sherlock we found- uh.." Lestrade looked between the two men who were looking at him questionably, John's hand still suspended in the air next to Sherlock's mouth. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Am I interrupting something?"
"What? No, no! N-nothing at all." John stuttered embarrassed and quickly put down the fork then got up to take the plate to the kitchen. "I'll just- you two can.. yeah." John said awkwardly retreating to the kitchen.
As John disappeared Lestrade came inside a bit looking questionably- astonished -at Sherlock. Sherlock looks to him saw he was floundering about like an idiot and looked to his computer scowling. Lestrade got his footing- so to speak -and sat where John was sitting a few moments ago.
"So you finally did it, huh?" Lestrade asked quietly as if it was some big secret he knew all along. Sherlock rolled his eyes still not looking up.
"Did what?" He growled typing furiously.
"You know we all had our suspicions but after that stunt you pulled at the Landers case I figured-" Lestrade said grinning oddly that just succeeded in pissing Sherlock off more.
"Stop this ridiculous sentence and say what you're implying, Lestrade. I don't have tolerance for this nonsense." He ground out snapping his laptop closed to openly glare at him.
"You two are shagging aren't you?" Lestrade asked almost in a pleasant manner which confused Sherlock further.
"No."
"Dating then." Sherlock rolled his eyes again at his positive tone.
"Why are you is intent on being privy to our private life?" He avoided the question and Lestrade took note of this.
"So you do have a private, personal life then?" Lestrade pestered with a shit-eating grin.
"Take a day off, Greg." John said coming to place tea and coffee in front of them both. Lestrade turned to him now.
"I mean c'mon John, I walk in on 'that' and it raises questions especially after the Landers case. You can't blame me with the evidence that's been put in front of me." Lestrade defended putting his hands up.
"Evidence? I didn't know this was in your job description." John said as he sat down in the free chair not before moving papers off of it of course.
"I take what I can get it's been a slow week." Lestrade said looking between the two of them. John who was silently looking out the window sipping his tea and Sherlock who had opened his laptop and he as typing quickly with a bitter look on his face. "Christ, you two are oblivious." John looked to him questionably and Sherlock snapped, slamming his computer shut again then placing his hands folded on top.
"Lestrade if you wish to insult us there are better ways of going about it. Now, if you don't have anything new on the case I suggest you leave." He growled almost like an animal. An overprotective animal. More specificity an overprotective animal over his mate.
"We found one of the guys, Andrew Helton he's down at the station. I got you twenty minutes interrogation time." Lestrade internally sighed, they were both helpless.
"It'll only take ten." Sherlock stayed and they were off once again. The interrogation actually took him fifteen minutes and John made sure to be a dick about it. Sherlock cracked the case open and after a small chase the other criminal was behind bars as well. John made sure to voice his adoration for his brilliance and as they decided to walk home that night Sherlock took his hand pleased beyond words.
For the first time in John's extravagant life he felt whole.
~~~
The puzzle was complete and that when John realized it wasn't a puzzle at all but his heart perhaps even his soul. Cracked and broken into pieces with years of pain etched into each piece.
Now though as he places the last piece into the center he realized it was now filled with Sherlock.
~~~
They didn't talk about it for a while. What was the point without words to describe it. Only actions were needed.
Kisses on foreheads, hands in hair, heads on shoulders, hands in hands, food fed to each other and long snogging sessions followed by nights entangled together in Sherlock's large bed. Never really going that far but just content with being in each other's presence.
It was overly domestic and completely public they didn't care who saw. Lestrade continued to pester them relentlessly but they didn't have a word for their relationship. How could they possible label something so pure and perfect.
~~~
"Sherlock?" John called as he sat typing out his blog. They just returned from a long case with an Irish diplomat in Ireland and they were both extremely happy to be home.
"Yes?" Sherlock answered viewing diseased skin slides on his microscope.
"What am I supposed to label our relationship on my blog? I certainly can't call you my friend it doesn't really work anymore and boyfriend is just so frivolous." John grumbled a bit his revulsion for the word came from having male friends as a child and his sister teasing him of having a boyfriend. Sherlock too had an aversion to it though his was just because he found it a silly term that wasn't taken seriously.
"Hmm. Yes well have to work on that." Sherlock muttered to himself before coming to stand behind John's chair. "Let me." Sherlock poised his perfectly manicured fingers over the keyboard and in swift precision clicked the correct letters -John could never go without a sentence before deleting something- and the word appeared on the screen. John smiled slightly abashed.
"You know that doesn't apply to us." He said as Sherlock moved back his hands coming to rest on John's shoulders.
"It will." Sherlock assured as John typed in the rest.
"Is that your way of asking?" John asked sitting back to look up at Sherlock.
"No, um.." he quickly went into the kitchen rummaging around and John followed him watching him fondly as he dug through drawers of junk. Sherlock made a little 'ah-ha' noise as he pulled out a spring, metal cutting pliers and his Bunsen burner. He clipped the spring and used the burner to melt the two sides together then stuck it under the faucet and turned the water on to cool it.
He dried it quickly then brought it over to John and took his left hand in his right one.
"Aren't you supposed to kneel?" John asked smiling like an idiot as he stared into the eyes and the man he loved.
"Silly tradition, there is no real point to it anyway." Sherlock smiled softly at John who giggled a bit at the statement. They looked deep into each other's eyes practically feeling the love pouring from them.
"John Watson, you are the love of my life and I couldn't imagine living my life without your presence by my side. Although I cannot say when our relationship truly began I can say that we were meant to be together. I don't believe in fate or soulmates I hardly believe in luck and yet I find myself having the best fate in meeting you, becoming the luckiest for being able to love you and calling you my soulmate. I'm hardly proved wrong and usually not happy about it but today, I am extremely pleased I am wrong." John was crying his left hand in Sherlock and his right on Sherlock's heart. Sherlock lifted his own hand wiped away John's tears with his own threatening to spill. "Would you do me the honor of confirming this theory and becoming my husband?"
John nodded enthusiastically choking out a yes past his tears and blinding smile. Sherlock slipped the metal around his finger and kissed him breathless and hugged him softly. John laughed slightly as he looked at the ring of metal around his finger over Sherlock's shoulder.
"It's to big for my finger." He laughed still crying and smiling Sherlock pulled away smiling as well.
"I'll buy you a real one." He promised wiping more tears from both their faces
"No, we'll just get it fitted. I think this one sums up our relationship pretty well." John smiled- if possible- even brighter as Sherlock did as well and kissed him. "I love you so much."
"I love you as well, more than anything." After a few moments of kissing and hugging they collected themselves and John pulled Sherlock to his computer.
"Should we make it official?" John asked as his hand hovered over the enter button. As confirmation Sherlock placed his own over Johns and hit enter they kissed again as they looked at the screen. Soon enough people would be blowing up his inbox asking hundreds of questions but for now it was peaceful and they were together.
That's all that matters, they were completed with each other.
~~~
After a very romanticized version of the case at the very end lay this.
'The Personal Blog of Dr. John H, Watson
'I find myself truly content, happy and all around feeling whole for the first time in a while. I have a sneaking suspicion as to why.
After the long case with the Irish diplomat Brandon Mongan in Ireland, my fiancé Sherlock Holmes and I have returned to Baker Street, and all is well.'