A/N And, finally, for the last chapter. A big thank you to every single one who reviewed, alerted, and/or favorited this story. I'd love it if you'd check out some of my other works, but it's perfectly fine if you don't, of course. ^^ Also, for any fans of Doctor Who, I have a massive DW/Sherlock crossover planned (and when I say 'massive,' I mean almost three times as long as this one...), so if you want to put me on author alert, that should be showing up in a couple of months. Other than that, enjoy the chapter, I suppose. It's pretty much an epilogue, but, as ever, reviews would be greatly appreciated! Just three more and it would be in the twenties (which is a lot for me XD)!
Thanks to Stormflite, Call me Mad, and IamSHERlocked4ever
Disclaimer I don't own Sherlock or any associated characters, events, etc.
The next few days were amazing for John. Things were just... well... it felt like the one thing that had been missing in his life before was now there- very, very much there. It was, quite simply, wonderful. The... relationship... between them, best of all, didn't seem to have changed much at all, and that was what was so great. There was nothing awkward between them, nothing tense. Everything was finally out in the open, and that was a spectacular feeling, really.
He said he loved me.
Even if the words hadn't been repeated since then, even if John had never heard them directly, they had still been spoken. He'd still said them.
He said he loved me.
Sherlock had said that, said it to Moriarty. What had the psychopath thought? The detective seemed reluctant to discuss the incident farther, which was perfectly fine with John. The little that he'd heard was enough... more than enough.
He said he loved me.
Glad to hear the good news. Congratulations. -Mycroft
Sherlock didn't know how to interpret the text. He was tempted to chuck the phone across the room just for the joy of hearing it shatter, but that would probably be more expensive than necessary, and John would most likely be frustrated, too. Somehow, the second penalty motivated avoidance more than the first.
Shut up. I'm not going to ask how you found out.
He didn't bother to sign the message. His brother wasn't worth the time it would take to type the two little letters.
Keeping it a secret, then, little brother?
Far from it. Just don't feel the need to let anybody know. Hardly anything's even changed.
But of course... things were already... a little more than platonic between you two, from what I saw and heard... were they not?
He could practically hear Mycroft's slight laugh from wherever his brother might currently be, and vented his frustration by holding the end call button down as hard as he could until the phone's screen dimmed to darkness.
"This is ridiculous," Sherlock growled, his hands tight fists in his coat pockets. "And completely unnecessary."
"Why's that? Just a couple of days ago you were absolutely desperate for a case. Found other ways to entertain yourself since then?"
His pale eyes flickered in the doctor's direction, cold and a bit alarmed. Was John trying to...? No, of course not. He was just paranoid. Surely the doctor wasn't referring to, well, the one big change that had taken place recently. Was he?
Luckily, he was spared the discomfort of dwelling on this any longer by heading into the building, trying to look as much like his regular self as he could manage. Was it just him, or were people looking at them as though they were recognizable as a couple? His stomach squirmed self-consciously, while John seemed completely cheerful.
Dammit, I hate this...
They made their way effortlessly to the familiar office of the Detective Inspector. John shouldered open the door and practically pranced in, leaning against the desk. Lestrade was leaning back in his chair, phone held between shoulder and ear, looking only seconds away from swinging his feet up onto the work surface. He muttered a few words into the mouthpiece, then took the phone and slammed it against the desk with a sort of fierceness.
"Sorry about that," he muttered, then glanced up. "John, Sherlock, what's up?"
"I just want to apologize," John spoke up immediately, "for the incident a few nights ago. I never properly said sorry."
"Don't worry about it," Lestrade said immediately, straightening up a bit. "Really- I'm sorry about Abby, we should have told her about-"
"It's fine... all fine."
The DI's dark eyes flickered back between John and Sherlock almost apprehensively. "Well, then... did you just come to say that, or...? Not that there's anything wrong with it if you did, it's just..." He trailed off.
"No. It's... we have some... news for you." John's voice was much less confident now, and Sherlock felt just about ready to sink into the floor and disappear completely. "Not that- well- we just thought that... er, you might-"
"...It's about time," Lestrade muttered.
Sherlock's eyes darkened. "What?"
"Well, nothing, it's just that..." He shook his head slowly. "We were all waiting for it, as a matter of fact, there was a sort of... bet going on-"
"You were betting," Sherlock hissed slowly, "on how long it would take us to get together? Betting? And who was involved?"
"Various... people," Lestrade muttered dodgily, then picked up his phone again and dialed a number quickly, holding it to his ear. "Yeah- it's me," he spoke into it. "Come on in, there's something you have to see."
"No," Sherlock growled. "No. I'm not going to-"
The door burst open a moment later, and in strutted Sally Donovan. She paused a few feet behind his desk and froze, her eyes roving back and forth between the two standing men. Slowly, a disbelieving grin took shape on her face. "No," she breathed.
"Yes," Lestrade crowed delightedly.
"That's it. John, we're leaving." Sherlock reached out a gloved hand and gripped the doctor's wrist, striding purposefully towards the door.
"Look, they're holding hands," Donovan cooed.
Lestrade snorted with laughter, then threw a hasty "congratulations!" after the two of them as the door slammed shut. John attempted to slant an apologetic glance in the Detective Inspector's direction, to no success.
"That," Sherlock hissed furiously, "was a disaster. No more of that. We're done with this. Done. Completely- and totally-"
"You're like a teenage boy," John noted with amusement, watching the detective's strained face, which shifted to an even grouchier expression at his words.
"Far from it," Sherlock scoffed. "I'm just not interested in this kind of thing. Far too... normal for my taste. Like some telly romance. Pathetic."
"Pathetic?" John repeated in disbelief. "Hardly."
"Please tell me you're being sarcastic."
"But you'd be able to tell if I was, wouldn't you? What with your amazing deduction skills and all that?"
Sherlock froze, slowly turning to look at the man standing a few feet in front of them- his dark hair, almost fish-like face that was currently contorted in an expression that couldn't seem to decide that if it was amused or disgusted, his eyes moving from Sherlock's face to John's to their joined hands, over and over.
"Oh, hello, Anderson," John remarked, clearly fighting to keep laughter out of his voice.
"Us two," Sherlock agreed, his tone dark. "And is that any of your business? No. I'd say it was nice to see you, but... well, I'm afraid that would be a lie, now, wouldn't it?" With that, he half-dragged John from the building.
THE PERSONAL BLOG OF DR. JOHN H WATSON
No Longer Single
Well, for those of you who haven't heard yet, Sherlock and I have gotten together. It's great, I feel great about it. He's helped me a lot to get over Sarah's loss, and that's really the best I could be asking for at this point. Please, nobody bother me about this, well, sexuality shift in any crude way; I don't need that. I really don't. Nothing else to say, I suppose, just thought you lot deserved to know.
Oh, way to be blunt.
Sherlock Holmes 25 November 11:09
Told you it would happen!
Bill Murray 25 November 11:24
Harry Watson 25 November 14:05
You know, Harry, you could try saying that in a non-verbally explicit way. Just, you know, a suggestion.
John Watson 25 November 14:07
But that wouldn't fully communicate how amazed I am! Though I did kind of seeing it coming when I was over... honestly, I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner ;)
Harry Watson 25 November 14:08
you've got to be kidding yourself. there's no way he'd want you,
theimprobableone 26 November 8:17
Oh, you again...
Harry Watson 26 November 9:22
theimprobableone 26 November 9:24
Congratulations, mate! Great to know that you two are getting on so well.
Mike Stamford 26 November 18:52
Oh, how wonderful! Though I already knew, of course.
Marie Turner 27 November 11:46
This is Mrs. Hudson, I'm using Mrs. Turner's computer.
Marie Turner 27 November 11:46
"Is this it, then?" John asked quietly.
"What do you mean?"
He glanced over at where Sherlock was, as usual, stretched out on the couch. This time, though, he was flipping through a magazine rather thoughtlessly, his eyes unfocused.
"Is this it? Are we... going out?"
Cringing slightly at the phrase, Sherlock sighed, shrugged, and half-straightened up. "You tell me."
"I'd say we are," John replied with a barely disguised grin. "And I think that, for that reason, we need to... go on a date."
"You are kidding me," Sherlock growled. "No. No. I'll do the whole 'publicly together' thing, but I am not- not- going to be seen in a public place being all-"
"Not in a public place," John corrected.
The detective paused mid-rant. "Then where?"
"Right here. Now." He inclined his head towards the television. "I ordered the whole third season of Doctor Who, and I was thinking-"
"Just an episode?" John half-pleaded.
Sherlock watched him evenly, then sighed. "One episode. I'm giving you one episode, and if it's the rubbish I'm expecting-"
"It won't be," John promised immediately, a grin spreading over his face. "Though... I might have to warn you, you won't be able to look away from a statue for weeks..."