Work Text:
"Wait so you say love me, but you don't want a relationship with me and you're basically saying you don't ever want to have sex with me?" says John as he pours tea into his mug.
"Yes."
John kept his eyes focused on his tea, not really paying attention to Sherlock’s words. This was Sherlock after all; someone who thinks that logic rules all and emotions are deemed a human weakness. This was probably another one of his social experiments. John didn’t take his words seriously, though playing along with the charade seemed to make the otherwise mundane day slightly more entertaining.
“So what- I don’t get it, what do you want me to do with…that?” John smiled warmly, looking up to meet his eyes. “With your…’love confession’, if you could even call it that.”
He should’ve expected John to react this way. “Nothing. I want us to stay exactly how we always were. Just the two of us against the rest of the world. I just wanted to tell you this because,” he hesitated. “Because I’ve never cared for anyone this deeply before.” His voice was soft when he spoke again. Something about it seemed almost fearful. He sounded so vulnerable. Either he was an exceptional actor worthy of winning BAFTA awards, or he was being serious. To be very honest, John wishes it was the latter. But this was Sherlock after all, it couldn’t possibly be the latter.
“John, I-I think I love you, I do,” his voice quavers. “But I have no intention of altering the dynamics of our current state so you have nothing to worry about. Rest assured, you will see no modification in my behaviour towards you as I have no desire to pursue anything beyond what the friendship that we currently have,” he quickly adds without even catching a breath.
“So you’re saying it’s all just platonic?” John scoffs. “Sherlock, maybe you’re just confused ‘cause you’ve never had ‘friends’ before but what you just described to me, that’s not love.”
"No, John, I know what I feel- "
“No, Sherlock,” John interrupts. “Wow feelings really is not your area, is it?” He muttered, though audible enough for Sherlock to hear. There was no venom in John’s words, in fact he was almost laughing. The very fact that Sherlock had mistaken their kinship for love seemed adorable to John. “People who are in love, they kiss, they cuddle, they have sex, they get married. What you just told me, that’s not love, that’s…just normal friendship.”
Sherlock winced at that. What hurts the most was not the rejection. It was that John laughed at the very idea that he could feel 'love’.
Heartless. Sociopath. Freak.
It didn’t matter that he’d ran into a bonfire to save John, jumped off St Bart’s for John, killed a man for John - there were so many things Sherlock wanted to say to prove John wrong. But none of that mattered to John, it seemed. Because his feelings were not 'romantic’. Because he didn’t want sex. So his feelings didn’t matter. It couldn’t be considered as real love, could it?
“Ah, my mistake then. I apologize for wasting your time, John.”
“No, Sherlock, wait.” John grabbed his shoulders, to turn him around. “Look, sorry, I just… did you really mean what you said? So this isn’t another one of your social experiments?”
John had to make sure. His heart was racing in his chest. This was everything he’d always wanted. So he had to make sure.
“I meant what I said John.”
John swallowed.
I love you.
“I love you too, Sherlock.”
***
The date was January 8, the time was five minutes past 9 in the morning. That was the first time they professed their love. Since then, life in 221b was nothing but domestic bliss. Sherlock would brew tea for John, John would buy milk for Sherlock, they’d chase down criminals at night followed by the obligatory post-case dinner at Angelo’s, they’d laugh together at crime scenes and joke about Mycroft. Everything was perfect.
Wasn't it?
***
One morning John was about to leave for surgery. As he headed for the door, he paused by Sherlock and leaned in. A morning kiss. A peck. It was harmless really. Sherlock leaned away almost immediately.
“What are you doing?” It wasn’t a question born out of confusion.
“It’s a kiss. A morning kiss, a sort of ‘wish you good luck for work’ gesture.” John’s reply was warm, smiling. He almost adored how Sherlock seems to be unaware of morning kisses.
“Don’t. I’ve never given you morning kisses before, why would I have to start now.”
“Because we’re in a – “
“Relationship? I told you I don’t want that sort of thing. We don’t need that John.”
John looked up and smiled, attempting to hide the disappointment. “Right. I’m off then.”
That was the first sign that everything was not okay.
***
One night they had just finished solving a case. What was expected to follow was the usual post-case dinner. But there was an unfinished experiment at home that Sherlock needed to finish first. Not that hungry yet. Food can wait.
“It’s been two days since your last proper meal, you need to eat, sweetie.”
Sweetie?
“C’mon let’s get you something you like. You need to take better care of yourself, alright?” There was gentleness in his voice. John was nothing but sweet. To anyone else, John seemed like the perfect boyfriend. Someone who pays attention, someone who notices the small things about you, someone who wants to take care of you, someone to make you feel special.
“John, stop. I don’t need you to mollycoddle me like a child. I’m no less capable of taking care of myself as I did before.”
The bitterness in his voice was apparent. It wasn’t anything in particular in what John said that irked him. The pet name certainly made him cringe, but it was the excessive tenderness in John’s tone that did it. It was overly careful and gentle. John has never spoken to him like that before. And there was no reason to start talking to him like a child now.
“You will remind me when I need to eat once you deem it necessary but I don’t need you to talk to me like I’m some sort of fragile helpless baby.”
“Right.”
***
It’s been 10 months since their relationship first began. The unwritten rules set by Sherlock were clear by now. No kisses. No pet names. No romantic gestures. Cuddles were acceptable within the privacy of their flat. Bed-sharing was welcomed. No PDA. (Actually any display of affection, in public or in private space, seems to be poorly received. So no display of affection, period.) No sex. John sighs in frustration. It seems like everything John has tried to do is always wrong. Every little gesture that all his exes appreciated, the small things that made them feel special, were perceived as repulsive and unnecessary by Sherlock. The reverse was the same. Sherlock didn’t seem to treat John any differently from before. The Work still took precedence above all else, and John as his mere sidekick blogger. It didn’t even feel like John had a boyfriend. It felt like he was a single man who was not allowed to flirt or hit on anyone.
The no sex rule was crystal clear from the very beginning though. Sherlock was asexual, sex-repulsed to be specific. At first it almost felt noble that John have chosen to sacrifice sex to be with Sherlock. But now, the idea of masturbating alone for the rest of his life, the knowledge that he’d never have sex with anyone for the rest of his life, if he stayed with Sherlock, was this all worth it? He could never sleep with anyone behind Sherlock’s back. John was not that type of man. But being with Sherlock like this, so many of John’s needs were not fulfilled. Masturbating alone always leaves him feeling more empty and lonely than satisfied. What he wanted was to share the closeness and intimacy with the person he loves, to touch Sherlock, to pleasure him. But Sherlock wanted no part in that. And John understands, he understands that it wasn’t Sherlock’s fault. Yet a small part of him, as much as he hates to admit, does blame Sherlock. Why did he have to make this so hard? Normal relationships shouldn’t be this hard. Normal people should like these things. Why must Sherlock be… the way he is?
John scowled at himself at that thought. He drank his final glass of scotch and headed home.
***
Sherlock could smell the whisky in John’s breath as he entered the flat. The creases on his forehead, the tired eyes, and judging by the stagger in his walk, Sherlock estimates John drank more than he normally did. Something must be bothering his mind then, but it’s not just a temporary problem, it’s a persisting problem, otherwise John wouldn’t typically drink in excess.
“I’ll just uh… go upstairs, sleep in my room tonight.” John seems to hesitate looking straight to Sherlock’s eyes. Like he was ashamed of something. But what? There was no trace of any man or woman having been in close contact with him so it was unlikely that John committed infidelity while at the bar, so why did he look so guilty?
“Actually, y’know….” John turns his body towards Sherlock, though still not meeting his eye. “I know that you said you don’t want to… I mean if it’s just this one time, just tonight, would you, maybe…”
Ah.
“John I told you from the very beginning that I don’t want any of that. I don’t wish to engage in any kind of sexual activity of any kind. I made it clear from the start. That wasn’t the kind of relationship I was looking for –“
“THEN WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU LOOKING FOR, SHERLOCK?! What the hell are we doing?! You don’t want sex, you hate it when I take care of you, you hate it when I pay attention to you, anytime I try to do something nice you always perceive it as mollycoddling or ‘treating you like a baby’. Then what the fuck do you want me to do, Sherlock?!! What am I wasting my time for?!”
Sherlock remained silent. He could sense the panic creeping in. He had to do something, fast. He can’t lose John.
“If you loved me at all, Sherlock, you would at least consider what I want, what I need! Why is it such a crime that I want to hold my boyfriend’s hand outside? Why is it so terrible that I want to do nice things for my boyfriend?! You’re making every single thing so difficult for me, Sherlock! Are we even ‘boyfriends’?! Can we even call ourselves that?! It’s like you don’t even care! Like nothing has changed for you!!”
“That’s the point John!” John stopped talking but his fist is still tightly clenched. “I don’t want anything to change! Why can’t we stay just the way we were, and still KNOW that we love each other? Still have each other? Why must anything between us have to change?”
Sherlock managed to keep his voice even, despite how chaotic everything was in his head. He dreaded this conversation. Why couldn’t John understand? Why is it not enough that they love each other? Why must it always come with the promise of sex and holding hands and romance? Why must John suddenly treat him differently, he didn’t like that overly gentle way John spoke to him now. He hated seeing John try to prove to him that he was special by doing all these unnecessary things. It felt forced, calculated, not genuine. He didn’t need that. Because John, just in the way John Watson is, have already proven countless times that he cares about him. That was why he loved John in the first place. And he loves John too. Falling off St Bart’s, killing Magnussen, running into a bonfire; everything he had ever done was for John. Everything was to make John happy. And they were happy, weren’t they? They shared many laughs, even before this relationship began. Why is all this not enough? Why must they start changing the way they behave towards each other?
“Because, Sherlock, not everything is about you.”
Sherlock looked up in panic.
“If you’re still too selfish to realize that I have needs too, if you can’t understand that relationship is about compromise, then….”
No.
“Then I can’t do this anymore, Sherlock.”
Please don’t.
“We … we obviously want different things. It seems everything I want is ‘repulsive’ to you. And I’m.. I’m sacrificing too much of myself just to accommodate your needs, and I can’t live like that forever.”
Stop. I don’t want to lose you, John. Please.
“I can’t.”
If he could change himself, he would. If he could fix himself, if he could be more normal, if he could stop himself from being asexual, if he could stop himself from being aromantic, would John stay? If he had just forced himself to have sex with John, if he had made himself like romance, would John stay? He never hated himself for what he is, but maybe that was wrong. Normal people should like this sort of thing. So what does that make him? A robot, a freak?
Please stay John. Don’t leave.