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‘Goodbye John.’
Something caught in John’s chest as he watched Sherlock throw the phone away and step off the building. He barely thought as he pushed his way towards his friend, desperate to do something, anything. Oh God, please let him live!
Then someone hit him.
The pain barely registered but being on the ground did. The world seemed fuzzy but John took a deep breath and pulled himself together. He had to see, he had to know. He stumbled towards where his friend was lying and reached for him, just wanting to see-
Sherlock was dead.
John knew it the moment he grabbed Sherlock’s wrist and felt the lack of pulse. Worse still, he felt it stir, felt it beg to let it bring him back. John bit his lip and told it no.
But it ignored him. Dazed, it took John a moment to realise it had ignored him, that the hit to his head had done something to his control and oh God he was going to bring Sherlock back from the dead in the middle of a crowd-
Sherlock breathed and someone pulled John away from him. ‘No, no, he’s my friend!’
The woman didn’t listen. She ignored John’s struggles as she pulled him away from his friend and he could all but feel the seconds counting down in his head and he’d thought he’d have time to think and choose but the time was almost out and he had to pick-
Two men grabbed Sherlock and whisked him away on a stretcher as the timer in his mind hit zero.
A man cried out as he dropped, mere metres from John and his heart sunk. What have I done?
********
Getting into Molly’s morgue had been far easier than he thought it would be. No one had looked twice at him but then, John realised there hadn’t really been anyone there to look at him twice.
Perhaps the time of night had helped.
But John wasn’t surprised to see Molly in her office. Her eyes widened at the sight of him. ‘John-’
‘I want to see him.’
‘His brother did the identification, you really don’t want to-’
John held up a hand. ‘I want to see him. I know he’s alive Molly, don’t lie to me.’
She bit her lip. ‘I know it was a bit of a shock John but-’
‘There was a plan. Wasn’t there? For him to live.’ John ignored her wide eyes and plowed on. ‘Only something went wrong… but it didn’t. He’s alive and you’re trying to figure out how.’
‘John.’ Molly breathed out but she didn’t say anything more; her mouth seemed to be stuck wide open.
‘Let me talk to him. I know what happened but please… let me talk to him.’
********
Molly took him home. John wasn’t surprised, this was the last place he would have looked for his friend. She opened the door for him but didn’t follow him in, giving John the impression she was going to give the pair of them some time alone. He was grateful for her thoughtfulness.
‘Molly?’ Sherlock said from the sofa as they walked in. ‘Why are you- No!’
In a fast movement he surged towards John, who instinctively took a step back even though he didn’t know what Sherlock had planned. ‘No, don’t touch me!’ He cried and Sherlock stopped abruptly, looking as if John had slapped him.
‘John?’ Oh God he sounded broken- he deserves it, look what he’s done to you!- and John doubted he’d ever seen his friend look so sad.
‘Don’t touch me.’ John repeated. ‘You’ll die.’ John considered his statement for a moment. ‘Again.’ He added and Sherlock blinked in surprise.
‘What?’
But John ignored him. ‘Why did you jump?’
‘What do you mean I’ll die again?’ Sherlock had that particular tone in his voice, the one that meant he thought he was onto something and all he needed was for the idiot in front of him to cooperate to figure everything out. John felt the urge to give in, to tell Sherlock what he wanted, no needed to know but… first he deserved an answer. One answer and he’d give the last of his secrets to his Sherlock.
‘You owe me this at least Sherlock.’ He said in a defeated tone of voice. ‘Please, give me this and I’ll give you everything else.’
Sherlock examined his face for a long while then nodded. ‘Yes. Yes. Oh John I’m-’
‘Don’t.’ John held up a hand to stop Sherlock’s apology. ‘Explain first.’ Sherlock eyed him for another moment and John sighed. ‘Please.’
‘You.’
What? ‘That’s not funny Sherlock.’ Every inch of pain and hurt he’d felt at seeing Sherlock on the roof crept into John’s voice.
‘No! Not like that.’ Sherlock was begging. Oh God, Sherlock was begging. ‘There was a sniper. A bullet. Aimed right for you. I knew he’d do something like that, I had plans!’ He shook his head in frustration. ‘But then there were two more.’ He met John’s eye, a broken look on his face. ‘I didn’t realise I had a heart until you and… and I knew you were in it… but somehow he saw what I didn’t… that they were too...’
‘Mrs Hudson.’ John said in shock. ‘Lestrade?’ Sherlock answered him with a short nod and John took a deep breath.
‘Even you can see it.’ His friend sounded bitter and John just wanted to pull him into a hug.
But he couldn’t. ‘So you jumped. What was the plan?’
Sherlock shook his head. ‘There wasn’t one.’
Shock rushed through John. ‘What?’
‘There. Was. No. Plan.’ Sherlock took a step forward with a raised hand and John stepped back, ignoring how his friend dropped his hand with a defeated sigh. ‘Not for all three of you. Molly thought there was, she had some ridiculous plans involving a mattress for my landing but I knew it wouldn’t be ready in time. I had to outwit Moriarty. And I did.’
‘Then why did you jump?’ John knew he hadn’t managed to keep the anger out of his voice but he didn’t care.
‘He outwitted me, one last time.’ With a shake of his head, Sherlock turned his back to John. ‘Moriarty killed himself and I had no way to beat him. I had to jump. I couldn’t let you die… I couldn’t.’
Somehow John knew that ‘you’ meant only him. ‘And I couldn’t let you die.’ He whispered. Sherlock turned back to face him as John collapsed on the sofa. Oh God, I never would have left you dead. He buried his head in his hands. This was always our fate-
John heard Sherlock moving towards him. ‘No.’ He snapped, looking up as Sherlock paused a mere foot away, hand still raised. ‘Don’t touch me.’
‘John-’
‘No!’ John ducked Sherlock’s hands and retreated to the other side of the room. ‘I don’t know much about how it works but I do know you can’t touch me! Not again.’
Sherlock titled his head as he considered John. ‘You touched me.’ He said slowly. ‘I remember that. I was… I wasn’t really.’ He paused for a long moment. ‘I think I was dead. But then I could feel your hand on my wrist and I was.’
With a reluctant nod, John sighed. ‘I don’t know what it is. I was a kid when it first happened, my Dad wasn’t breathing and Mum was screaming and everything was confused but then I touched him and suddenly he was breathing.’ John took a deep breath. ‘Do you understand? He wasn’t and then he was… just like you. Alive.’
‘And the not touching?’ There was belief in Sherlock’s voice but then again, he’d literally felt this himself.
‘He grabbed my hand. To… something me. Thank me? And suddenly he wasn’t alive again. And no matter how much I touched him after that, he wouldn’t come back.’
‘One touch to give life, one touch to remove it.’ The awe in Sherlock’s voice made John feel nauseous.
‘There’s a cost.’
‘What cost?’ Sherlock moved towards John and he held up a hand but Sherlock shook his head and continued towards him. But he stopped, so close they were almost touching but they never did. Sherlock’s hand hovered over his shoulder and John could feel the heat from it but it never touched.
‘If I keep someone alive more than a minute, another life takes their place.’ John said in a rush.
‘Your Dad?’
John shook his head. ‘He didn’t make the minute.’ He bit at his lip then looked Sherlock in the eye. ‘I died Sherlock.’
‘What?’
‘The bullet in my shoulder? Not the only one. I took another in my leg and it killed me.’ Sherlock flinched and John stepped out of their near embrace. He needed the space. ‘But one of my soldiers, Bill. He was like me.’
‘He brought you back.’
‘Yes. He didn’t mean to, he only wanted to know where the gunfire had come from. But I… I was in pain and panicking and I just rolled away and stayed out of his reach that first minute...’
When John didn’t continue, Sherlock prompted. ‘Well? Who?’
‘It doesn’t matter. Bill well, Bill got someone to get me out of there and I came back here.’
Sherlock eyed him. ‘Does the no touching rule apply then? If it’s been more than a minute?’
‘Do you really want to risk it?’ John challenged and Sherlock flinched. ‘I thought not.’
‘I can’t stay.’ Sherlock said after a long moment of silence. ‘I… Moriarty wasn’t his organisation. There’s work to do. I have to do it.’
With a sigh, John sighed. ‘I thought so.’ He looked down. ‘I want to go with you… I wish I could go with you.’
‘You know why you can’t.’ Sherlock’s voice was soft and John looked up to see the pain in his friend’s eyes. John knew the same pain would be clear in his own eyes.
‘Yes.’ John knew it was too much of a risk that they could touch. He should demand that Sherlock never see him ever again but… he wasn’t that strong.
‘Not just your ability… They will kill them, if you don’t grieve correctly.’ Sherlock bit his lip and stared into John’s eyes. ‘I would gladly take you with me if it was only your life, it would even be safer but...’
‘You can’t take them all.’
Sherlock gave him a small, sad smile. ‘Having a heart is an inconvenience.’
‘But worth it?’ John hated how broken his voice sounded but he couldn’t help it.
In a moment, Sherlock was in his face as close as he could be without touching. ‘One moment with you is worth every hardship in the world.’ He stepped away. ‘You should leave.’
John nodded and slowly crossed the room to the door.
But he stopped in the doorway. ‘Sherlock?’ He turned back to look at his friend. ‘I shouldn’t ask this but...’
‘Anything.’
‘Come back to me. Please. Say you’ll come back to me.’ Sherlock opened his mouth, probably to give a truthful response but John cut him off. ‘Don’t. I don’t need the truth, I don’t want to hear you tell me what I already know. Just, lie to me. Let me hear you say, in your voice without a single qualifier, that you’ll return to me. Please.’
With a tearful nod, Sherlock said, ‘John, I will return to you. I promise.’
‘Thank you.’ And John left, hoping to everything that could possibly exist, that this was not the last time he saw his friend.
********
John spent the next two years in limbo.
At first it was easy to hide, in the grief he was feeling for Sherlock’s leavi- Sherlock’s ‘death’. It was so easy for those around him to think that his stubborn refusal to pack Sherlock’s things was him clinging to the memories of his dead friend -lover they said behind his back and John didn’t care- and that his seemingly lack of interest in doing anything other than work was him trying to cope with a sudden emotional shock.
But then his friends -those who remained after everything that had happened- lead by Lestrade and Mrs Hudson, started to notice it had been months since Sherlock’s jump and he’d not changed at all. John tried to put more of an effort in but it was hard.
He was spending most of his energy trying not to worry, desperately trying to resist the urge to go track Sherlock down through the spotty reports he’d managed to trace back to his madman. There wasn’t a lot left over for pretending to live.
So he kept on waiting.
John could do waiting.
And then, his waiting paid off.
********
The moment he entered the flat, John knew something was off.
‘Who’s there?’ He called into the dark room, running his hand along the wall in search of the light switch.
‘John?’ Sherlock asked just as he found the switch and for a short moment before light flooded the room, John could make out his friend’s distinctive silhouette near the window. Then he had to blink because the room was full of light and in that moment Sherlock had moved to stand right in front of him.
‘Sherlock.’ He breathed and his friend grinned, blue eyes alight with the same joy John was feeling. But then Sherlock reached out for him and John flinched. ‘No, what are you doing, you can’t-’
‘Testing a theory.’ Sherlock said as his gloved hand touched John’s cheek. ‘I’m not touching you, my glove is.’ He softly stroked John’s cheek and John leaned into the touch, placing a gentle kiss on Sherlock’s fingers.
Sherlock shivered. ‘I missed you.’ He sounded sad and defeated. ‘I didn’t think it would feel… feel like this.’ His other hand came up to grip John’s other cheek so he was holding John’s head and looking down at him. ‘What have you done to me John Watson?’
‘Nothing you haven’t done to me.’ John admitted and Sherlock took a long breath.
‘I wish I could kiss you.’
‘I wish you could kiss me too.’ John felt like he was giving himself away but somehow it didn’t matter because Sherlock’s hands were still on him.
But then Sherlock was leaning in and before John could protest Sherlock’s lips were on his. He waited for a moment- two moments- for Sherlock’s hand to slacken and his lips to stop their urgent motions as their owner died… but nothing happened. Sherlock was still kissing him and John raised a hand to Sherlock’s chest so he could feel his heartbeat.
And he kissed back, giving it everything he had. Sherlock made a delighted noise and pushed at him, so his back was now against the wall. The slight pain from hitting the wall brought John to his senses.
‘Wait, no. Sherlock-’ He tried to pull away but Sherlock seemed determined to keep the kissing up. John turned his head so Sherlock couldn’t reach his lips and Sherlock just kissed his neck instead.
‘Please, Sherlock. How is this possible?’
‘A theory.’
John felt like he’d been slapped. He pushed Sherlock back, forcing him to leave off the kissing and meet John’s eyes. ‘Did you just risk your life for a bloody theory?’
‘You’re acting like it’s the first time I’ve done that.’ Sherlock raised an eyebrow, conveying the fact he thought John was being incredibly boring right now. Part of John was delighted to see that look again, something he’d thought he’d lost forever, but the rest of him was just pissed off.
‘Not good Sherlock.’ John put in his voice every bit of anger he’d felt over the last two years. Sherlock looked away, unable to meet his eyes. ‘What theory?’
‘A life for a life.’ John nudged at Sherlock’s chin and forced him to raise it so John could see his eyes. ‘You said so yourself. A life was taken so you could live...and one was taken so I could. Logically once the lives had been swapped, there was nothing for your ability to take away.’
John couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice. ‘You… You risked your life on that. Based on some weird ...logic?’
Sherlock’s eyes flashed. ‘Good logic. Every spare moment I had, I researched your ability. Something you should have done in the first place.’
‘Mostly I pretend it doesn’t exist.’ John admitted with a shrug. ‘It’s… Sherlock this is not something that normal people have! And it’s terrifying.’
‘What was it?’ As usual, Sherlock read between the lines of what John was saying.
‘A heart in Med school. I didn’t realise there was a rip in my gloves until the damned thing started beating in my hands.’ John sighed. ‘Honestly, I was lucky I didn’t drop it in shock.’
There was a small movement by Sherlock’s side, as if his hand had started to raise to comfort John but he’d decided against it. With a scowl, John grabbed the hand and placed it on his shoulder. Sherlock eyed him for a moment then squeezed the shoulder.
‘Yes. Well. I, ah, researched. There wasn’t much but… it was logical th-’
‘Say logical one more time and I’ll punch you.’
‘-reasonable,’ Sherlock corrected, ‘that your ability relied on your own...body to maintain life for the minute. After that minute, it looked elsewhere and became a separate entity.’
‘Where are you getting this from?’
Sherlock suddenly moved forward, so he was in John’s space and looming over him. ‘I am alive, John. A living, breathing man. There is no difference between myself now and myself before I died. It was reasonable to assume nothing had changed.’
‘You guessed.’ John whispered into the ever closing space between their lips. ‘You risked your life for a guess.’
‘What life did I risk?’ Sherlock brushed his lips against John’s and then pulled back so he could look him in the eyes. ‘A life where I could never touch you, not even for a moment…’
‘You’re an idiot.’ While his words weren’t kind, John’s tone was as it was also filled with every inch of relief, delight and hope he was feeling.
Sherlock beamed. ‘So you’ve said before.’
‘You’re my idiot.’
Sherlock moved back with a slightly offended look on his face. ‘I would argu-’
John grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down. ‘Shut up.’ And he kissed Sherlock to make sure the idiot actually listened to him for once.