They sat in silence for long time, neither looking at the other. Sherlock was as still as humanly possible and John fidgeting all over the place. They were so different and yet they had gelled together so well. They were a team, but was that partnership over?
Still looking at the floor Sherlock said,
"I can be gone. I will go if you want me to. I only ask for one more favour. You do this and then you will never see me again." John looked at him for a moment and then nodded, saying,
"Yeah, okay, yeah. What do you want me to do?"
Sherlock got up and walked over to the window. Slowly he pulled back the curtains and looked out onto the street. The street lamp was glowing orange as the sun disappeared behind the old buildings in front of it. John jumped up.
"Wait, what are you doing? I thought you couldn't be seen!"
"It is time. Moran will know I am here within the hour. At some point tonight he will come here and attempt to kill me." Sherlock walked over to John and held him at arms length. "Tell me you are the doctor I once knew and say you still have that wonderful gun you used to have." John freed himself from Sherlock's grasp and walked over to the desk in the corner of the room. He pulled open the top left drawer and extracted the said item, raising it high so Sherlock could see. John heard a shrill come from Sherlock. He couldn't help but smile. "Come now John, we must set the scene."
Sherlock drew all the curtains and turned off all the lights. He laid down on the sofa and placed his hands under his chin in the praying position. John stood in the middle of the room not exactly sure what he was supposed to be doing. After a moments silence Sherlock (who had his eyes shut) made an 'oh' noise as he appeared to realise that John could not read his mind.
"You need to stand by the door John, so that when it opens no one will see you behind it. I am not sure how Moran will get in, but he will, and so you must shoot him without a moments hesitation." Sherlock paused. "And then I can disappear from your life for good." John said nothing but took his position behind the door.
Hours passed. John was now sitting on the floor, exhausted, ready to fall asleep. It took all of his army training to stay awake. He frowned as he looked at Sherlock, who looked completely peaceful and asleep on the sofa. The moonlight was just about passing through the thin curtains and John could see Sherlock's silhouette laying quite still. They could have at least taken it in turns to be on look out, John thought bitterly.
Suddenly Sherlock's arm jerked up and waved in the air, pointing in the direction of the front door. Sherlock still appeared to be asleep but obviously he wasn't. John was motionless as he strained his ears to listen. There was a creek. It was only a slight one but he heard it. Someone was coming up the stairs. Silently John stood up and readied himself. He felt the adrenaline surge through his body; he could hear his heart beat in his ears. The feeling he hadn't felt in years,suddenly life was an adventure again!
There was a sound of metal on metal, a few taps and then a click. The lock had been picked! John's breathing and heart rate increased as he watched the door beside him open, allowing a dark figure to enter the room.
Sherlock did not move. John watched as the figure walked towards the consulting detective lying innocently across the sofa. The figure reached into his pocket and brought out something metal and shiny. A knife! The figure raised it above his head, ready for the swipe downward, aiming for the heart.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The barrel of the gun John was holding was smoking. All of John's muscles had contracted and had him frozen to the spot as he watched the figure fall with a thud to the ground. He couldn't move, Sherlock too was still on the sofa. A sudden awful thought rushed through his mind. What if I have shot Sherlock? Forcing himself out of his frozen state, John rushed to Sherlock's side. He went to brush the hair out of Sherlock's eyes when Sherlock suddenly sat up, wide eyed and looking down at the dead body on the floor. He was grinning. He was finally free to live his life again, to go back to J-. But then he remembered the promise he made and the smile on his face fell.
"Thank you Doctor Watson." He stood up and bowed politely. "I am a free man now. I will no longer be a curse on your life."
"There is a whole organisation out there, you can't possibly be safe!" protested John.
"The two people at the head of it all are dead. The organisation will crumble and destroy itself without a leader. I am in no danger." He turned and headed for the exit. "And neither are you," he whispered.
John took two steps towards the door, then stopped, then took two more steps, then stopped again. He was arguing with himself in his mind. What do I want? he asked himself. He had wished so many times that Sherlock was still alive, and now that he was he wished he had never returned to his life! He was so confused! He walked over to the window and peered out. He could see Sherlock standing on the edge of the pavement, hauling a taxi. This was it. This would be the last time he would ever see Sherlock Holmes. His childhood friend, his flatmate, his hero. A taxi pulled up; once it was gone John knew he would never see Sherlock again.
"No, no, NO," he yelled. Sherlock was talking to the driver, giving instructions to the destination. A destination John would never know. He banged on the window as hard as he could, yelling at the top of his voice, "SHERLOCK!" But Sherlock heard nothing. He was getting into the taxi. John fumbled with the handle of the window, it was stuck, he couldn't get it open. "NO!" He yelled as he saw Sherlock reach for the door handle to shut the door of the car. Looking around, John grabbed the wooden chair in front of his desk and hurled it through the window. Glass flew everywhere, cutting into him, but he didn't feel it. "SHERLOCK!" He screamed.
The young man in the taxi got out of the car, looking up at where all the broken glass had come from. Hearing his name being called he sent away the taxi and ran back into his old flat.
"John? John are you alright?" John met him at the top of the stairs. Sherlock looked at John, who looked directly back at him deeply into his eyes, right into his soul.
John threw his arms around Sherlock's neck, bringing his head closer to his and then placed a passionate kiss on Sherlock's lips. Sherlock was stunned for a moment, but then slowly he wrapped his arms John and awkwardly pulled John's body towards him as he kissed him back. As John pulled away he placed his lips to Sherlock's ear and whispered,
"I love you." John could hear the sobbing in Sherlock's voice as he said,
"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that." Sherlock buried his head in John's shoulder as John slowly swayed Sherlock back and forth to a silent tune, his finger twirling the locks of Sherlock's dark hair. Neither John, nor Sherlock wanted this moment to end. As Sherlock lifted his head John gave him a light peck on the cheek. Sherlock smiled as he leant his forehead on John's and said,
"I'm sorry I lied to you." John kissed Sherlock's forehead as an acceptance to the apology. "I love you," Sherlock whispered as he buried his head back into John's shoulder. John smiled to himself as he replied,
"I love you too."