Chapter Text
John’s grip on Sherlock’s hand tightened as he watched the detective’s other hand that was holding the gun and saw his finger move to rest against the trigger, Moriarty smirking as if daring him to actually pull it.
It was quiet for several beats as Sherlock kept the gun trained on the rigged vest while he stared the criminal down, hand on the gun tensed in a way he knew would cause a reflexive muscle spasm if one of the snipers shot him so he’d still be able to get his own shot off even if he was already dead, just waiting…
Another beat…and then…
♫Well now I get low and I get high, and if I can’t get either I really try. Got the wings of heaven on my shoes, I’m a dancin’ man and I just can’t lose…♫
Sherlock blinked just to share a quick confused look with John at the sound of music breaking the tense silence, unable to really tell where it was coming from at the moment since the sound was echoing throughout the room and making the origin a little difficult to pinpoint.
♫Whether you’re a brother or whether you’re a mother you’re stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive. Feel the city breakin’ and everybody shakin’ and we’re stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive…♫
Jim let out a long-suffering sigh just to give Sherlock a bit of an exasperated look. “Do you mind if I get that?”
“Oh, no, please,” Sherlock agreed as he realized the other man was getting a call. “You’ve got the rest of your life.”
Jim frowned as he pulled out his phone and took a look at the screen before he brought it up to his ear. “Hello?” he answered, annoyance clear in his voice. “…Yes, of course it is. What do you want?” he asked just to look back to Sherlock and mouth, Sorry.
Sherlock shrugged as he mouthed back, It’s fine.
It was quiet for a moment as he watched the criminal start pacing while listening to whoever was on the phone, before he suddenly stopped and Sherlock actually jumped a bit as the man furiously shouted, “Say that again!”
Jim gritted his teeth as his face twisted, growing even more furious as the line was silent. “Say that again,” he repeated, voice dangerously low, “and know that if you’re lying to me, I will find you, and I will skin you alive.”
Sherlock shared a curious look with John for a moment before they both returned their gaze to Moriarty.
“Mmm… Wait just a moment,” Jim said just to mute his phone as he looked from the gun in Sherlock’s hand and down to the rigged vest on the ground, and he frowned in thought for a moment before he met Sherlock’s eyes. “Sorry. Wrong day to die,” he decided.
Sherlock arched a brow at that. “Oh? Did you get a better offer?”
Jim shrugged. “You’ll be hearing from me, Sherlock,” he said in lieu of answering before he unmuted his phone and brought it back up to his ear. “So, if you have what you say you have, I will make you rich. If you don’t, I’ll make you into shoes,” he continued his conversation as he turned to make his way out of the building, raising his free hand and snapping his fingers before he made his way out the door.
John tensed for a moment at the signal before he noticed the multiple red dots dancing over him and Sherlock suddenly disappeared, and he felt a little lightheaded as he suddenly let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.
“Think he’s really gone this time?” he asked a little shakily.
“Most likely. Whatever that call was about, it was obviously something important to him,” Sherlock pointed out as he flipped the safety back on John’s gun and tucked it away.
“Right, well, I’d rather not wait around to find out for sure. Can we please get the hell out of here?”
He didn’t have to ask twice; Sherlock immediately helped him to his feet and placed a hand on the center of his back to steady him when he wavered slightly, and soon the both of them were making their way outside and far enough away Sherlock deemed would be a safe distance if the explosives went off, just in case.
“We should call Greg, let him know about the vest,” John reminded him, voice a little more steady and feeling a little less shaky now that they were out of the building.
Sherlock nodded as he pulled out his phone and dialed Lestrade, deciding to be the one to do it since John looked like he could still use a minute to fully calm down. His eyes gentled as his friend suddenly turned towards him and leaned in to rest his forehead against his collarbone while he felt his hands moving to rest on his hips, and he wrapped his free arm around John’s back to hold him close and rub soothing circles into the base of his spine.
“And here I was starting to think I wouldn’t be hearing from you again until tomorrow,” Greg said as he answered. “The bomber decide to contact you tonight after all?”
“Not exactly,” Sherlock mumbled just to give the inspector their location and inform him he needed to send the bomb squad to dispose of the vest.
“Got it. I’m on my way with them right now. Do I wanna know why you’re in the same place as one of those vests this time? And why you didn’t call me as soon as the bomber sent his final puzzle?”
“He didn’t send one, I got tired of waiting and enticed him to meet with me instead.”
“You did what?!”
John couldn’t help but chuckle in amusement as Sherlock pulled the phone away from his ear at the shout.
“Why the fuck would you do something so god damn stupid?!” Greg asked angrily. “More importantly, why would John let you do something that stupid?!”
“I didn’t,” John said simply since he could clearly hear the man even though the phone wasn’t on speaker.
“John had just left when I decided to set up a meeting,” Sherlock admitted.
“And here I thought you were getting better about running off on your bloody own… I would say it’s nice to know at least one of you still has some damn sense then if you decided not to tell him what you were doing, but I’m not sure how accurate that statement would be seeing as how he’s clearly with you right now and yet he never called me to let me know what you were up to when he figured it out.”
“Yes, well, I was a bit indisposed at the moment seeing as how I was being forced into a Semtex vest at the time I learned Sherlock made plans to meet with Moriarty,” John informed him, Sherlock deciding to switch the phone to speaker at this point.
The line was silent for a moment before Greg let out a choked, “What?! Are you alright? We should be there in just a few more minutes to get you out of that vest if you don’t wanna risk taking it off yourself.”
“I’m fine. Sherlock already got it off of me.”
“The vest is still inside the pool. John and I are outside at a safe distance away from the building,” Sherlock assured him.
Greg couldn’t help but let out a relieved sigh at that. He knew the vests weren’t made to detonate without being shot, but that didn’t mean he liked the thought of one of his friends being strapped in one–it was a stressful enough experience watching the bomb squad get those vests off of people he didn’t even know. Of course, he wasn’t fully reassured until he made it to the location and he spotted John and Sherlock nearby and saw they looked to be unharmed and just a bit rattled, if the way they were clinging to each other when he pulled up was any indication.
John was feeling much better by the time Greg made his way up to them, so he was able to let go of Sherlock and turn to face their friend as he looked them both over in a way that told John he was obviously looking for any signs of injury before he asked them what had happened.
“…Christ,” Greg muttered with a frown after Sherlock finished telling him about their encounter with Moriarty. “How did he manage to nab you in the first place? I’ve seen you fight before–having a gun pulled on you has never stopped you from kicking someone’s ass before,” he pointed out as he looked to John.
“A black car pulled up next to me while I was making my way down the street. I thought it was Mycroft wanting a chat with me for some reason so I stopped,” John admitted. “Next thing I know, two guys in masks stepped out and both of them pulled guns on me. I thought about trying to take them on anyway since there was only two of them, but there was no way for me to know if the driver had a gun or not as well since they didn’t get out of the car. Didn’t want to risk the driver shooting me if they did actually have one too, so I let the two in the masks shove me into the car.
They brought me here, escorted me inside where Moriarty was waiting, and he told me Sherlock made plans for them to meet and was on his way while his guys strapped me into the vest and a coat. And you know the rest after that.”
Greg frowned as he moved to pull both of the boys into a tight hug. “I’m glad you two are ok,” he said before he pulled back just to give Sherlock a sharp look. “Call me next time you’re about to run off and do something stupid without John, you crazy bastard.”
“I didn’t want to risk Moriarty realizing I’d called for backup from the police and decide not to meet with me,” Sherlock explained. “It was clear he got around and had connections, so it seemed probable he would hear about it if I called you to come back me up.”
“I could’ve come alone if you were worried about that, even though I trust all of the officers working under me.”
“Still would’ve been too risky. Moriarty could’ve decided to have you killed if I brought you with me to meet with him–that was the reason why I didn’t stop John when he was leaving to tell him what I was planning on doing. Moriarty wanted me, so I couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t immediately dispose of whoever was with me if I didn’t show up alone.”
“I don’t care if it would’ve been risky, it was even more risky of you to show up to meet with a psychopath in a secluded place in the middle of the night all by yourself!” Greg pointed out.
“I took a calculated risk based on the fact that his game was solely about getting my attention, which meant it was highly unlikely he would be planning to kill me if I met with him–especially considering he could’ve easily killed me way before then if he’d wanted to,” Sherlock defended. “Besides, I brought John’s gun with me, so it wasn’t like I walked in to meet him completely defenseless.”
“Maybe not, but that clearly didn’t matter. You told me yourself he had snipers in there trained on the two of you. You’re lucky he got that call when he did, otherwise I’d be here with a team looking through rubble and trying to figure out who the poor unlucky bastard was we were scraping bits and pieces of from off the floor!”
John’s stomach twisted at the thought. “Right, ok, stop it, you two,” he decided to cut in. “Sherlock shouldn’t have gone off on his own, no, but yelling at him isn’t going to change the fact that it happened. What matters is we’re both fine. And I know we were lucky that we were able to walk away from this at all, but I can’t really say things would’ve gone much better even if Sherlock brought backup with him. There were a lot of snipers hidden around here. I counted at least ten sights split between me and him, could’ve been more–it was a little hard to focus at the end there. My point is, it could’ve been a bloodbath if more people were here and it still wouldn’t have changed the fact that Sherlock and I might not have ever walked out of there alive.”
Greg frowned at that, but he had to admit he made a good point… So he let out a defeated sigh as he gave a small nod. “You’re right. I still wish he would’ve called me, but I do get that it probably wouldn’t have made much of a difference if I was here.”
He gave Sherlock another sharp look. “But I mean it, Sherlock, you call me next time. You hear me?”
“I’ll consider it,” Sherlock offered with a placating smile.
“You’d better,” Greg said just to suddenly smirk. “It would save you the headache of getting bitched out by Mycroft again next time.”
Sherlock blinked just to press his lips at the implication while John furrowed his brows in confusion. “You didn’t…” he said at the same time John asked, “Again?”
Greg’s smirk widened as he pulled his phone from his pocket and ended the call he had going right as he saw a black limo pulling up a few feet next to them. “Oh, look, speak of the devil,” he said innocently.
Sherlock looked over to the car just to immediately turn his gaze back to the inspector with a glare. “Oh, you son of a–”
“Of all the stupid things you have ever done,” Mycroft cut in sharply as he stepped out of the back of the car and made his way over to his brother, “this was by far the dumbest. One phone call, Sherlock. Hell, a single bloody text, and there would have been a dozen M.I. Five agents in place around here to remove any hidden threats before you ever even stepped a single toe into that building!”
“I didn’t need your help, Mycroft–I had everything under control,” Sherlock argued.
“Oh you did, did you? And that’s clearly why I just heard you and John both telling Gregory how lucky you were that you were able to walk out of there alive!” Mycroft retorted sarcastically.
“I said I took a calculated risk that was the least likely to end badly!”
“You wouldn’t have had to take any risks if you would’ve just contacted me first!”
John sighed as he brought a hand up to massage the bridge of his nose as the brothers continued to bicker, part of him agreeing Mycroft was right while the other part of him wanted to strangle Greg for bringing Mycroft into this in the first place. The very least he could’ve done was wait until Sherlock was alone to let the elder Holmes brother know what had happened so John didn’t have to suffer a headache as well, the dick. Especially when all he was wanting to do right now was go home, kiss Sherlock breathless until they were both too exhausted to stay awake any longer, and curl up in bed with him…
“Ok, look,” he finally cut in after a few minutes when it didn’t look like either brother was close to stopping their argument anytime soon. “Yes, it was stupid of Sherlock to come here alone.”
When he saw Sherlock make a face and open his mouth to retort, he gave him a look and held up a hand. “No, shut up, it was,” he said simply before he turned his attention to Mycroft. “And I’m more than happy to let you yell at him about it if you want, but can you please do it some other time? I want to go home, and I don’t particularly feel comfortable making the trip alone at the moment otherwise I’d just leave so I don’t have to listen to it.”
Mycroft was about to suggest the inspector could escort him home if he was really that shaken up–even though he would think a former soldier would be harder to rattle than that–though he paused as he noticed the way John’s eyes kept flicking back over to his brother as if trying to reassure himself he was still there.
Now that he was actually taking the time to look at him he was easily able to deduce he wasn’t just worried about something happening to himself if he were to head back alone, he was afraid of something happening to Sherlock if he was out of his sight. He also noticed something else, and his eyes narrowed a bit as he looked between him and Sherlock for a moment. He wasn’t surprised by what he deduced, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t immediately tempted to have another chat with John about his intentions.
Sherlock, easily able to interpret the look on his brother’s face, quickly spoke up before Mycroft could. “No other time would be preferable, but I agree if you’re going to be annoying I would rather it be some other time as now really isn’t the best for it. Come on, John.”
John sighed in relief as he quickly followed after Sherlock when he turned to start making his way down the street.
“Wait,” Mycroft called out. “Take my car,” he offered.
Sherlock scoffed. “I just said I don’t want to deal with you right now. Why would I agree to share a ride with you?”
“I didn’t say to share it, I said to take it. I can call for another driver to pick me up. I just want to ensure the both of you make it home safely after hearing what just happened tonight and knowing Moriarty is still out there.”
“You don’t have to call for another car, I could give you a ride,” Greg offered, at first planning to offer to take the boys instead but figuring Sherlock was likely to turn down the offer.
“Oh, no, there’s no need for that, Gregory. I know you’re a busy man. I can have a car here for me in five minutes,” Mycroft declined.
“I’m not busy at the moment. I was actually getting ready to head home for the night before I got Sherlock’s call,” Greg assured him.
John, not caring how Mycroft decided to get home, grabbed Sherlock’s hand to stop him from continuing to walk off and instead pulled him over to the limo that was still waiting since he really didn’t feel like going to the trouble of walking to a more traffic-heavy area and flagging down a cab when they already had a car right here that would take them home for free.
Sherlock made a sound in protest as he realized where John was pulling him to, but he decided not to argue since he could clearly see the exhaustion radiating from his friend now that his shock finally seemed to be wearing off. Instead, he let him usher him into the back of the car and looked to the front to tell the driver, “Take us home. You don’t have to wait for my brother. Mycroft has procured other transport.”
John let out a tired sigh as the car eventually got moving, the driver most likely confirming with Mycroft that it was ok to leave without him first, and he found himself reaching for Sherlock’s hand once again and lacing their fingers together. He knew they should probably talk before he kept doing things like that, because even though Sherlock had been the one to kiss him back there it didn’t exactly tell him what that meant for them now. But it had to be a good sign that Sherlock’s response to John telling him he loved him was to kiss him, right? And it didn’t seem like he felt uncomfortable with John keeping close to him like he would if he’d regretted it…right?
Sherlock frowned as he could feel how tense John was getting, so he used the ride home to try and think about what he could do to help him relax and take his mind off of what had nearly happened to them. He wasn’t sure how successful he would be with it being so late and John looking so exhausted, but he wanted to at least try because he had a feeling if he didn’t do anything to try and help before John went to bed his PTSD might start up again pretty badly. He’d had a few bad nights after he’d been kidnapped by the Black Lotus after all, and this time his abduction was much more stressful, so Sherlock didn’t doubt his friend would be in for a bit of a rough time over the next few nights or so.
When they made it back to Baker Street, Sherlock kept his hand in John’s as they got out of the car and made their way inside and up to their flat. He had intended to lead him over to his chair and sit him down and start a fire in the fireplace, but as soon as they got halfway across the living room John stopped and his grip on his hand tightened a fraction.
“I don’t really feel like staying up at the moment, Sherlock. I’m pretty knackered to be honest. Can we just go to bed, please?”
“I know you’re tired, but you should at least stay up long enough for a cup of tea. Chamomile always calms you down when you’re stressed. Or peppermint, perhaps. That’s also quite good at lowering stress, and it always seems to help you fall asleep more quickly as well,” Sherlock offered thoughtfully.
John felt his lips twitch up in a small smile at that, but he shook his head as he pulled the other man closer and dropped his hand so he could wrap his arms around his waist. “It’s fine. I don’t need tea…I just need you.”
Sherlock felt his heart stutter in his chest as his cheeks warmed slightly. “John, I… You really should try to find something that will help calm you down. I know it’s likely you’ll have nightmares tonight either way, but if you take a bit of time to relax and calm down a bit before bed they won’t be as bad.”
“I already have something that calms me down and makes me feel better. I have you,” John said simply.
Sherlock felt his face burn a little hotter and his heart give another stutter in his chest at that. “I doubt I help that much. I’m not exactly used to comforting others, so I’m sure it would help better if–”
“I don’t need anything else, Sherlock. Just you,” John repeated softly before he nervously licked his lips and looked down. “But, uh…there is one thing that would help me feel a little less stressed at the moment… I’d really like to know… I-I mean, we didn’t have a chance to really talk about it, and I…”
Sherlock felt his stomach fluttering as John trailed off just to take a deep breath and look up at him almost searchingly, and his breath hitched as he felt him move one of his hands up to cup his cheek.
“John…” he whispered uncertainly as his hands moved of their own accord to rest against his friend’s chest.
He could tell where this was going… He should tell him to stop… He should tell him the kiss at the pool was a mistake, that it was just the adrenaline and the relief that they were both still alive and the panic of realizing he’d almost just lost his best friend all rolled into one that made him kiss him… Because if he stopped him now things could still continue on as normal. They could still be friends, and Sherlock wouldn’t ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to him… But just thinking of the look on John’s face and the soft tone of his voice when he told him he actually loved him…and then that kiss… God, that kiss…
“I don’t want to assume anything, Sherlock…” John continued hesitantly. “But you should know that I’m yours if you’ll have me, so I just want to know–I need to know… Can I… Can I have you?”
Sherlock froze, heart thundering in his chest at his words.
He thought about saying no, thinking of a way to turn him down gently…but his chest ached at the thought of never having John’s hands on him like this again, never having his lips on his own again after finally experiencing it and learning how much better it was than anytime he’d ever imagined it, never hearing John tell him he loved him again… Wouldn’t that be just as bad? Logically, it probably wouldn’t, but at the moment it sure felt like it would be…
“…You already do,” he finally admitted, voice barely above a whisper, before John was moving the hand on his cheek to the back of his neck and pulling him down to his lips.
It was stupid to say that, it was stupid to do this… It was going to end like it always ended, and instead of having John in his life as his friend he wasn’t going to have him at all… But in that moment, with the way John was kissing him–soft, sweet, like he was something to be cherished–he couldn’t help but hope he was wrong for once.