Chapter Text
EPILOGUE
Two weeks later.
John stood as steadily as he could underneath the shinning sun. He inhaled deeply, taking in as much of the fresh air as he could. It had been so long since he had been outside, and the wait was very much worth it.
He opened his eyes and squinted. Sherlock was standing in front of him, facing him, with his arms by his side and swaying. He was prepared to catch John if he needed to, but John knew with a heartening sensation that that was unlikely. He was still using the walking aids, but only for walking. He could stand on his own fairly well without them, and really; he only needed them for long distance. That morning he had walked to the shower without an aid, only Sherlock by his side as a precaution—one that Sherlock had insisted on.
John exhaled slowly and focused on the brightness of the outside. It was fairly cold, and he was wearing pajama bottoms and a thin jumper, but he couldn’t find himself to care. It was a beautiful day.
Sherlock stepped forward until he was nearly up into John’s space. “Ready to go?”
John huffed a laugh. “Not bloody likely.”
“You could get a cold. Your immune system is still rebooting, as is your heart. Your stress levels—.”
“Aren’t my concern right now,” John interrupted lightly. He grinned despite his protest. “Besides, it’s only been ten minutes.”
Sherlock nodded slowly. “Just a little bit longer, then.”
John smiled and prepared to take a step, but then he paused when he caught a glimpse of Sherlock’s face.
“Hey,” John leaned to him and raised a hand. He caressed Sherlock’s cheek gently and tilted his chin up. Sherlock met his gaze without resisting, but his eyes were flickering across his face, and he looked troubled.
“What is it?”
Sherlock licked his lips and lowered his gaze, but John wasn’t having it and raised his chin again. Sherlock clenched his jaw slightly, and then sighed.
“It’s starting to get colder. The clouds are coming in, and soon you’ll be shivering, and then you’ll barely make it to your room before you’ll have to nap. I’ll…feel better if we go now.” Sherlock avoided John’s gaze, and John was glad he did. Confusion sparked a glimmer of frustration in John, and he huffed.
“Alright, fine. C’mon.” He led the way back into the hospital, with Sherlock close behind him. He wasn’t sure exactly why Sherlock wanted him back inside so much, but he was feeling the exhausting starting to kick in, and he knew he would be less grouchy and moody if he went now.
They rode the elevator in silence, and then they made it to John’s room. He placed the walkers against the wall, and then climbed into bed. Sherlock sat in his chair, and then let out a slow sigh. John stared at him, and then he realized.
“Oh my god.”
Sherlock’s eyes widened with alert. He looked at John and prepared to stand back up if he needed to.
“What’s wrong?”
John wiped his face with his hand and sighed. “You’re exhausted.”
Sherlock relaxed slightly, but then tensed, and his brows furrowed. “What—.”
“That’s why you wanted to come back. You’re about to fall asleep. I can see it in your eyes. They keep flickering, as if you’re l-looking for something to focus on, to keep yourself awake. All for…me,” John finished with another realization, one that made him feel fondness and guilt at the same time.
Sherlock started to shake his head, but came to a weak halt. “You’re still recovering—”
“Come here,” John interrupted. He scooted over stiffly, and patted the space next to him. Sherlock didn’t question it; he stood up, removed his coat, and then lied down next to John, curling his body against him. John wrapped his arm around his shoulders and held him closer. Sherlock sighed contently, and leaned in closer, burying his face into John’s next.
“I love you, John,” Sherlock sighed. John hugged him tighter and rested his cheek against the top of Sherlock’s head.
“I know.”
* * *
Four months later.
John carefully climbed the stairs up to their flat. He leaned on the cane with caution, and lifted himself one step at a time. He had had practice with stairs back at the hospital, but not this many at once. He inhaled slowly and finally made it to the top, with Sherlock right behind him of course.
Sherlock grazed his hand on John’s lower back and walked past him.
“Sorry, it’s a mess,” he muttered to himself. John grinned at Sherlock’s sudden need to clean, and managed to grab his wrist to keep him close. Sherlock paused in his movements and looked at John. He seemed to read John’s mind, for he inhaled slowly and relaxed, and then offered a relieved grin.
“I’m glad you’re home, John,” Sherlock said. He leaned forward and kissed John lightly. John tilted his head up a little more, wanting to take the kiss further, but Sherlock was already leaning away, and reaching for their things to be put away.
John exhaled softly and looked around. The flat didn’t look messier, just dusty. The window by the desk had even been fixed, John realized. He looked back at Sherlock, who was nearly twirling around the room, subtly putting things away, trying to clean up the place. The image sparked a memory of John’s, and he was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. Sherlock stilled and looked up at him, his eyes flickering over his body, reading him. John realized he must have inhaled sharply, almost like a gasp, causing Sherlock’s attention to go to him.
“Everything alright?” Sherlock asked tentatively.
John nodded honestly. “Good. Everything…is good.” He smiled wide at Sherlock, and his eyes glistened slightly. Sherlock softened his face, and took John’s hand in his. He squeezed it gently, and smiled.
“You’re home, now. You’re here,” Sherlock whispered, as if even he couldn’t believe it.
John smiled he wasn’t sure if he could smile even more, but he could.
Sherlock swallowed tightly, and didn’t let go of John’s hand. “I thought…” he trailed off, and shook his head.
John looked at him closely. “Thought what?” he pried gently.
Sherlock shrugged. “That you’d be gone. For good. It almost feels surreal.”
“Well, it’s not,” John replied firmly. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”
Sherlock’s face brightened. John’s heart fluttered, and then he started to speak, something that had been in his mind for ages he couldn’t remember if he had thought of it himself or if he just always knew it would come to this. John thought this moment would never come though, that the right time had passed and it was too late, but as he spoke, he realized with certainty that there never was a right time, just a moment, in which he could take for the both of them.
“Sherlock, I know it hasn’t been long, but I wanted to tell you…”
Sherlock met his gaze, and nodded slightly, allowing him to continue.
John smiled nervously. “I wanted to let you know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. That whether it’s like this, or if we get married, however you like, that it’ll be us, and we won’t waste anymore time.”
Sherlock smiled so wide, John thought he was going to faint with happiness. Sherlock nodded and let out a shaky sigh. “I can’t imagine anything better.”
John smiled and pulled Sherlock closer. He kissed him hard and passionately; Sherlock moaned against his lips and deepened the kiss, and then they were stumbling into Sherlock’s chair, their hands not daring to leave the other’s body.
“Don’t stop kissing me,” John murmured against Sherlock’s lips.
“Only if you don’t,” Sherlock murmured back, with a slight laugh escaping his lips. John laughed softly, and recaptured his lips. Sherlock trailed a finger along John’s cheek sending a shiver through his body. He felt Sherlock’s finger graze the scars, but this time he didn’t cringe. For a split moment, he basked in this new attention, but John’s thoughts quickly trailed away as Sherlock kissed him harder and more desperately. John kissed him back, allowing his mind to simply wander with the feel of Sherlock against his body. This wasn’t the end, John knew, it was only the beginning. And, neither of them could wait anymore. This was their future. Together, the wait was over.