Chapter Text
John and Sherlock walked along the on and off lighting of the alleyway. Their hands were tangled together and the silence between them was comfortable. As they reached the end of the alley and came up to a quiet road, Sherlock went ahead and dragged John along behind him. After hopping a small fence (to John’s reluctance) they entered a small park and walked to a bench under a large weeping tree that hid them from the outside world.
Sherlock dreaded what he had to tell John. Things had been so good lately—better than good, great even. It wasn’t fair that he had to wreck it all when it’s the only thing he’s ever had.
Mary had tried to do the job for him. She’d gotten close, but John’s stubborn refusal to give up his need for Sherlock had made her job impossible. She’d had three years and still she couldn’t manage to turn John away from Sherlock. Sherlock only wished she’d been able to. It would be easier to see him happy with someone else than dead because he was considered a liability in Sherlock’s work.
John was supposed to be an assistant. Someone to keep Sherlock and keep up appearances with while he worked in the background where no one could see him, but John Watson had a way about him that wiggled it’s way into you. Everything that was shut off about Sherlock, John managed to turn it on and repair what was broken. John lit everything up and made Sherlock want to be better. Be the man that John believed him to be. But life isn’t a fairytale, and Sherlock won’t get his happy ever after.
Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and gave him a hug before he stood up. John followed suit. Sherlock’s eyes were filled with unshed tears as John stood just a meter away from him, feet shoulders width across and hands fisted and his sides. He’d take it like a man, no, like a soldier, Sherlock thought. Sherlock raised the gun before