Work Text:
“It’s a bad idea,” Sherlock says, staring at John at the other side of the living room, both of them looking quite restless. “Me and you, it’s not-... It’s a bad idea.”
“I know,” John answers, his eyes piercing even in the dim light. He takes the slightest step forward. “I totally agree.”
Sherlock’s eyes run up and down his figure, a bit nervously, analysing. He couldn’t sleep. Sherlock himself had not been able either. Last night, something had changed. He’s not sure how to describe it, he’s not even sure what had actually happened, but something had shifted between them. Just a moment, a look. A normally hidden thought had been shown in their faces at the wrong time, and it had been seen by the other. The sudden awareness had been too much and they had left for their respectives rooms.
Now Sherlock finds himself in the kitchen, in the middle of the night, all his might concentrated on not moving to close the space between them. His heart is pounding, merciless, in his chest. “John, it’s such a bad idea, me and you…”
“Trust me, I’ve never known anything so true…” John says, stepping closer once more, making Sherlock’s self restraint crumble a bit more with each movement. “It’s a terrible idea…”
“You have a wife,” Sherlock reminds him, rather weakly, when he stops right in front of him.
“And you’re my best friend,” John adds, grimacing slightly.
“You’ve got a baby coming…”
John seems to contemplate the endless list of reasons why they shouldn’t do this running through his head. “It’s such a bad idea, isn’t it…?” His expression looks so miserable, so desperate. He looks into Sherlock’s eyes with a deeply longing gaze. Then his eyes fall on his lips. “Me and you…”
Sherlock feels his self control breaking. “Yes, it is… It really is…”
Before neither of them is even aware, John is pushed against the kitchen wall. They kiss each other frantically, with the urgency of years of waiting. Hands move at their own will, exploring, in the way they’ve been denied for so long.
Sherlock has to make such an effort to think coherently, his thoughts stepping over each other in a way he hadn’t imagined possible. He feels like screaming to himself.
Heart, stop racing! Let’s face it, making mistakes like this will make worse what was already pretty bad.
They can’t do this. He can’t let John do this. A million different ways this could end terribly overwhelm his brain.
Mind, stop running!
He abruptly pulls away from John, taking a step back. For a moment they just look at each other, breathless. John’s flushed face reflects the same troubled expression he must have on his own.
It’s time we just let this thing go…
Without another word, Sherlock turns and walks away, into his bedroom. He leans on the door once it’s closed, trying to recover his breath. He hears John going up the stairs just a few moments after.
He sighs heavily, his heart still pounding hard. Against his better judgement, he feels a tiny smile forming on his lips.
It was a pretty good bad idea, wasn’t it though…?
“It’s a bad idea, me and you,” John whispers, pinning Sherlock to the cushions of the couch, in between urgent kisses to his pale neck. God, he couldn’t have resisted, seeing him there, in the living room, after last night.
“Yes,” Sherlock mutters back, “it’s a bad idea, me and you…” He looks at John for a moment, the midday light streaming in from the window makes his eyes look an impossible colour. A tiny smirk begins to appear on his lips. “Hold me close while I think this through, will you…?” He tilts his head, as if considering, pursing his lips slightly.
John snorts. He launches to kiss him fiercely, his hands under Sherlock’s waist, pulling him up closer to him.
After a moment that could’ve been seconds, minutes or hours for all John’s clouded brain cared, Sherlock moves away just enough to bite his own lip. He looks at John with dark eyes and a yielding expression. “Yup… it’s a very poor idea, me and you.”
John feels as if his heart would combust any second. He kisses and kisses him again, both excitement and guilt swirling and crashing painfully inside his chest.
Heart, stop racing! Let’s face it…
This shouldn’t feel so right. He can’t afford this to feel so right, not now. Why didn’t this happen years ago? Why did it have to happen in such a terrible moment?
Making mistakes like this will make worse what was already pretty bad…
A thousand different thoughts flood his head. Mary. The shot. The flash drive. He can feel his rage only growing. The baby. Oh, God, the baby… He can’t. He just can’t.
Mind, stop running!
He pulls back suddenly, his gaze lost for a moment as he tries to put his thoughts in order and fails miserably. When he looks back at Sherlock, both of them panting agitatedly, the man seems to have read his mind, as bloody always. He’s putting on a resigned expression, even though his eyes give such a wretched look. He sighs shakily before giving John a small nod, gesturing to the stairs with his chin. Then he looks away, waiting for John to go.
John swallows. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words won’t come out. After a few instants he stands up, leaving Sherlock on the sofa. He gives him one last painful look before turning and going up the stairs.
It’s time we just let this thing go…
He closes his bedroom door and sits on the edge of the bed. He buries his face in his hands, letting out a muffled curse.
It was a pretty good bad idea, wasn’t it though…?
They both lay awake in their respectives beds, looking up into the darkness, trying not to remember, not to think.
John sighs, sitting up and closing his eyes hard, his jaw tense. He feels such a heavy, awful weight in his chest.
Sherlock turns under the sheets, looking at the door, his fingers clenching and unclenching as he tries desperately not to give in to his own impulses.
I know what’s right for me…
John curses himself. He curses everything he’s been through, everything he’s been taught. Everything he’s been denying himself because it wasn’t right .
It’s the only thing I’ve ever done…
Sherlock braces himself, curling up in the bed, feeling the emptiness of the space around him pushing him, making him smaller. The cold feeling of loneliness cuts through him in a way he thought he had learnt to ignore long ago.
It’s the only thing I’ve never done…
John gets off his bed, angry at himself, at everything. He looks around his room. After all that happened with Mary, Sherlock had settled it all for John to move back in. He hadn’t even had to ask, Sherlock had arranged everything just in case, just so John knew that he had a place to come back to, to feel safe in, if he wanted. John feels a lump forming in his throat. God… What was he supposed to do? How could he just try to ignore everything and go back to who he was before? He feels a paralysing fear crawling up his spine just thinking of that, thinking that this could just be it, that he has already sealed his fate.
What if I never see myself ever be anything more than what I’ve already become…?
Sherlock forces himself to sit up in his bed, feeling every single one of his walls trembling. He has spent his whole life convincing himself that he didn’t need anyone. He refused to change just so people would find him more bearable. He didn’t want to be a part of that stupid, senseless game. He had taught himself to not want to change, to not feel the need to change. And now, the idea of staying the same as he’s always been seems like the most terrifying thought he’s ever had.
He gets up with a fast movement, launching for the door before his new determination fades. When he opens it, John is already at the other side, his chest falling and rising with agitation.
John looks at him intensely as he whispers, “I need a bad idea…”
Sherlock lets out a breathy sigh, taking John’s arm and pulling him inside. “... Just one.”
In just an instant, they’re kissing each other senseless. Hands everywhere, bodies moving on their own accord.
Heart, keep racing… Let’s make mistakes.
Let us say, So what? and make worse what was already pretty bad…
“This secret is safe…” Sherlock says as he pulls John down to the bed with him. “No reason to throw it away…”
John licks his lips, following him down and almost devouring him with his eyes. “Not when there’s love to be had…”
Hold me tight as I tell myself that you might make sense… and make good what has been just so bad…
Let’s see this through…
John pauses for a second, looking into Sherlock’s eyes, his hand cupping his face. “It’s a pretty good bad idea, isn’t it?”
Sherlock can’t help but to smile stupidly at him. “Me and you…”
John returns the smile and kisses him again.
“Me and you.”