title: .at stops
warning: excessive angst and self-internalization (if it can even be called that), not beta'ed or brit-picked
disclaimer: 100% disclaimed. the characters are not mine and no profit is made from this story.
summary/excerpt: Now: in John's eyes it's all heartbreak and escapes
a/n: it’s my first time to post here but i’ve been lurking here for a long time. thought it’d be high time to actually write something. it’s nothing spastic, just a spur of the moment write-up that went longer than expected. i am on the roof and fall any moment but i still don't care. idek!
Sometimes, John thinks how all of his dilemma should be heartbreaking. Then again, he's not really a woman and, really, he shouldn't be thinking too much of his situation without the buzz of alcohol. Still, though, he thinks this should be heartbreaking.
The world doesn't stop him from tumbling after Sherlock. It's an easily acquired habit that he can’t seem to get rid of.
It's not a relationship. They're too dysfunctional for anything with even a semblance to that. Nope. They're just two insane human beings (despite what Sherlock claims) living off of each other, entirely too dependent to even ponder letting go.
And so John follows Sherlock out to the dark streets of London, running after god knows what.
Of course it all ends with John falling in love.
Not with Sarah though.
John likes her.
And it's almost love.
Of course it all ends with John falling in love.
With Sherlock. Of course with Sherlock.
In the middle of all the running and the puzzles and the crimes and the dangers Sherlock puts them both through (Now that's not reallly true. Even if Sherlock asked him to stay John would've gone anyway. It's magnet see? Sherlock always pulls John to him. Or like a black hole. Yeah. Black hole. Fitting.), John still manages an epiphany.
It's not much of an epiphany really. He's just looking at Sherlocks back, all black lines that seem to go on forever. And John realizes he doesn't much mind just running after him if it means a hope of finally catching up.
Of course at that moment Sherlock turns around and gives him that I'm a genius smile and something clicks into place.
It's not much of an epiphany but it punctures a hole in his chest and hole starts growing where the warmth of friendship once lay.
It’s staggering but he keeps it at bay and runs the last feet to where Sherlock stands.
Black hole really.
When John looks back to when it all started he'd point to this and call this his not much of an epiphany.
What forces John to a grinding halt comes months after. There are still small clicks that took place during that stretch of time but it's on a particularly slow Sunday afternoon that the biggest piece falls into place.
The dull buzz of the TV blends well with the white noise of traffic and afternoon strolls.
John sits on his chair head almost lolling on the side. He's tired. All the midnight running is finally catching up on him. He knows he should be lying on his bed, falling into slumber, but the trip up the stairs is too much work and he prefers to be lazy and uncomfortable in his chair.
It's a quiet day and John's almost sleeping.
He shifts a little and his hair falls down on his face tickling his nose to annoying heights. It's ill fortune - normal day then.
Of course Sherlock comes in and makes it ill-fortune abnormal (fortunate abnormal however you want to look at it).
Sherlock's cold fingers skitter across John's face and brush the hair away.
John opens his eyes and gives a lazy smile.
Sherlock doesn't smile but his eyes light in subtle amusement.
John sees the stormy colour of Sherlock's eyes, deep and unfathomable. It's the colour of destruction and John can't help but be pulled in.
It makes the blood in John's vessels flow a tiny bit faster.
John's epiphany that day is a repetition of every fleeting thought he has had ever since he met Sherlock.
He could drown in Sherlock's eyes forever and he wouldn't mind. He would drown in Sherlock Holmes, be destroyed by the sheer force of Sherlock's will and John would still love every second of it.
Now there’s the problem.
In retrospect, John thinks it's inevitable.
Normal people would hate Sherlock Holmes with a passion. John is not normal. He's broken and just a line outside of beyond repair and falling for Sherlock Holmes is entirely conceivable.
Still, John is confused. Or shocked. Maybe not shocked. Lost maybe? Yeah definitely lost.
Where does one go after falling for Sherlock Holmes? Surely there is no greater torture.
it's a slow collapse, John muses when this has all taken place.
John loves Sherlock. Sherlock loves his work. And his brilliant mind. And his violin. And his nicotine patches. And his abounding adrenalin. And his cases.
And Sherlock does not love John.
Sherlock likes John. And his experiments. And the taste of new information. And the taste of tea.
Sherlock cares for John. John knows this.
And it hurts because John also knows that this is not enough.
Sometimes, John thinks Sherlock knows. How can Sherlock not know? He's brilliant beyond bounds. He knows things about John he himself doesn't know.
Sometimes, John's almost sure Sherlock knows because of the pain that flickers (just a flicker) after a brush-off that John's sure Sherlock saw or the subtle longing in his eyes whenever he looks at Sherlock. But Sherlock just goes back to what he's doing and they fall back into a monotony of almost normal and bordering insane.
Along the way it becomes unbearable.
But Sarah is there.
Sarah with her charming smile and female wit and endless warmth and obvious interest in John.
Sarah’s not Sherlock but she's someone that may love him and bed him and care for him deeply.
And isn't that the logic of it all - to love someone who loves you and forget someone who doesn't?
It's not a substitute. It can never be a substitute because the halls of Sarah’s home don’t reek of dubious chemicals and the fridge doesn't foster a head and the microwave a pair of eyeballs.
Sarah isn't a substitute. She's an escape. This is an escape. A breather. He knows he'll eventually fall back to the pattern of the torture of trailing after Holmes but it's nice to feel loved sometimes.
At least for the mean time.
It's pitiful how he's reduced to running when he clearly wasn't a coward before.
Obviously Sherlock has also fucked his wires and turned him into a bloody sissy that runs away from the damning hurt of loving Sherlock.
Now, it's all heartbreaking.
John loves Sherlock and Sherlock doesn’t love him back.
He's all heartbreaking.
In the future, Sherlock would give him a look that spells blindingly idiotic but endearing nonetheless.
Sherlock would tell him that they've always been clearly meant for each other
and John was just being stupid
and no they're not going to get married because they will not conform to the stupidity of society
but they will fall into bed
and curl up against each other
and kiss lazily
and have amazing sex (we will not be mediocre even in that John)
and watch shitty TV shows and laugh and comment at the idiocy of it all
and have walks on the park
and eat Chinese take-out with their ankles tangled together
and fight crimes
and run after suspects
and save each other
and solve cases
and make London a safer place
and shout until they're hoarse
and growl at each other
and have make-up sex
and not let go
and maybe grow old live long enough to retire.
Not in that order and not all at the same time but they'll make it through all of them mostly unscathed and entirely still together and still meant for each other and still in love.
In the moment it's all heartbreaking still.
note: ok so i'm new to the fandom. i'm terrible at first posts but the fandom has drawn me in. right now I'm writing this to somehow give my brain a break from all the awesomeness is this fandom. honestly, this is the darkest place I've been and I still can't help but stretch my lips into a manic grin. this is possibly my worst obsession over a fandom (along with inception which i'm also having at the moment) so any suggestion and feedback is truly welcome. i'm also looking for recs um please?
thanks in advance. yay