Baby Please Don't Go - Part 5a
anonymous
April 3 2011, 02:28:33 UTC
A/N: I'm sorry this is so late, real life got in the way for a few days. Here, have the final part :D Just a warning, my knowledge of Heathrow airport is more or less non-existent, but I did Google how long it should take to get there from Baker Street. 36 minutes, apparently.
*
He had no trouble hailing a taxi.
“Heathrow!” he demanded as he leapt into the black cab. “If you get me there in under half an hour I’ll give you a hundred quid.”
The cabbie, bless his soul, looked entirely unfazed, merely nodding his head once in the rearview mirror and setting off at a brisk pace.
Sherlock leaned back and closed his eyes. He tried to choke down the panic he could feel rising, threatening to totally overwhelm him. What if he didn’t get to John in time? Alright, so there was nothing stopping him emailing John, telling him everything. But Sherlock was afraid; he was afraid that once John was there, once he’d seen, felt and touched his new life, that maybe he wouldn’t want to come back.
Sherlock knew he was a difficult man to live with. He knew John was frustrated and irritated at him just as often as he was amazed by him. And despite what John’s letter had said, Sherlock couldn’t shake the feeling that this was John reaching his breaking point, that he couldn’t handle it anymore. For the first time in his life, he desperately hoped he was wrong.
*
The cabbie made it to Heathrow in 28 minutes, a feat Sherlock deemed worthy of a rather more than a hundred pounds. Flinging the money through the window, he raced through the huge glass sliding doors. 11:31. Technically, John could have already boarded his flight, but Sherlock suspected John would be one of the last to board. He doubted John relished the thought of sitting more or less motionless in a seat for hours on end; he would probably put it off til the last minute, Sherlock reasoned.
He sprinted down the shiny, brightly lit concourse, past interminable shops and cafes and people. God, the people were driving him insane. They were everywhere, great, rolling masses of humanity, shopping and talking and eating and generally being in the way. Sherlock despised every last one of them for making him dodge around them, making him twist and weave his way though the crowds, for every second making it more and more likely that he wasn’t going to get to John in time.
And, oh fuck, he hadn’t even thought about having to go through security. But now a check loomed ahead of him, and Sherlock seriously contemplated simply jumping the barriers and bypassing it completely. After a moment’s contemplation, however, he decided that he didn’t particularly relish the idea of being tackled to the ground by a security team and forced into an interview room and cross examined for hours. Sighing heavily, he stepped into line behind a grey-haired woman clutching her handbag. She moved slowly and shakily, patting down her pockets in confusion, and if she didn’t hurry up and find that last bit of metal concealed somewhere on her person, he was going to prove Donovan right and he would be standing over a dead bod, and oh God, it was 11:37 now and John would have to board in the next five minutes and -
His increasingly panicky train of thought was arrested by the sight of a security guard gesturing him forward, a slight frown on his face. This set off a whole new series of panicky thoughts, but he calmly stepped up to the man.
“Sherlock Holmes?”
“Ye-es,” Sherlock replied, cautious and curious in equal measure. The man nodded and said something indecipherable into the walkie-talkie clipped to his shoulder. He turned back to Sherlock.
“Go ahead, sir. You won’t be stopped again.”
Sherlock gaped at him for a moment, completely non-plussed. Then,
“Mycroft,” he whispered, awed. He shot the man a dazzling, genuine smile before he dashed through, and fucking hell, he was never going to tease Mycroft about his diet again, if this worked out. Or not for a month, at the very least.
Re: Baby Please Don't Go - Part 5a
anonymous
April 3 2011, 02:31:07 UTC
Another three minutes, running flat-out, brought him, finally, to Gate 43. There were people everywhere; people queuing to board, people hugging and kissing goodbye, and he was never going to find John in this mess.
“John!” he yelled, desperately.
Nearly everyone within a twenty-foot radius turned to stare at him, and he glared at them.
“Are any of you called John? No? Then kindly piss off,” he snarled, causing most of them to avert their eyes. Then, again, he called “John!”
At least six men looked back at him again, one saying tentatively,
“Um, yes?”
“Oh, for fuck’s -” They wouldn’t have this problem if John had been calling for him in a crowded airport.
He leapt up onto the nearest seat, and oh, that was much better. He caught sight of a familiar black jacket just disappearing through the gate, and he felt his insides twist, his hands start to tremble and his heart was hammering in a way that had nothing to do with having just run nearly a kilometre.
“JOHN WATSON,” he bellowed, and everyone turned to stare at him at that.
A sense of pure, helpless relief flooded over him when John’s head poked out from around the passageway.
“Sherlock? What the hell are you doing here?” John demanded, surprised, striding towards him. Sherlock jumped off the seat and rushed towards him, grabbing him by the arms as soon as he was in reach, desperate to feel John’s solid weight under his hands, to be physically reassured that John was still here.
“Oh God, John, thank goodness,” he breathed, clutching at him so tightly that is had hurt.
John was staring at him, wide-eyed, clearly utterly confused by Sherlock’s admittedly bizarre behaviour.
“Um, Sherlock?” he said, tentatively this time. “Is there something wrong?”
Sherlock shook his head. His heart was still pounding, he could hear it in his ears, and he felt like he was drowning; the adrenaline was pumping through his blood, making it sing, unaware that he no longer needed it. John did not look reassured, but he said gently,
“Um, that’s good? Except, I kind of have a plane to catch, so if you wouldn’t mind filling me in on why you’re here and why you’re cutting off the circulation to my arms, that’d be great.”
Baby Please Don't Go - Part 5c
anonymous
April 3 2011, 02:39:55 UTC
Somehow, in the midst of his manic running, between all the yelling and dodging, he’d completely failed to figure out what he was going to say to John once he found him. And now he was staning here, completely speechless and utterly terrified because it had to be perfect. He needed the exact, magical combination of words to convince John to stay, to leave the airport with him, come back to Baker street and never leave again. And right now, Sherlock’s mind was blank.
He stared at John, took in his blue eyes, his forehead currently crinkled in confusion, his broad, strong shoulders, his delightfully perfect jaw. He could feel the panic welling up again, because there was no way, there was no way this ridiculous, wonderful man standing infront was going to choose him, not after everything Sherlock had put him through for four years, not after Sherlock had completely failed to see what was right in front of him. Not when he had a whole other life waiting for him, one free of Sherlock’s moods, his experiments and his complete failure at basic human interaction.
“Hey, hey, Sherlock, what is it?”
John was rubbing Sherlock’s arms now, clearly alarmed by the terror he saw painted on Sherlock’s face.
“Stay,” Sherlock blurted out.
“What?”
“Stay. Don’t leave. Don’t go to Colorado. Come back with me.”
John sighed.
“Sherlock, I can’t, you know I can’t.”
“No, you can, you can, John. Don’t leave me, please.”
“Sherlock - ”
“I don’t know what to do without you.” Sherlock winced. He hated the way his voice sounded, small and afraid.
“Sherlock, for god’s sake, not everything is about you!”
John looked a little angry now, and he had taken a step back, his hands falling from Sherlock’s arms to clench at his sides.
“What? No, John, I - ”
“So you’ll have to make your own tea for once and there’ll be no one around to tell you you’re brilliant. Grow up, Sherlock, think about someone else for once in your life.”
People were unabashedly staring at them now, clearly enthralled by the drama unfolding in front of them. And John wasn’t finished yet.
“I’m sorry that my feelings are such a massive inconvenience to you, Sherlock, but you’ll just have to - what the fuck are you doing?!”
Sherlock had taken two steps forward and closed the gap between them, bringing his hands up to firmly grasp the sides of John’s head, to hold him steady so that Sherlock could look straight into his eyes.
“Stay,” he said again, and kissed him.
For a moment, it was perfect; John’s lips were exactly as warm and soft as Sherlock had known they would be, and Sherlock could drown in this, in John’s scent and taste. And then John was shoving him back, his eyes flashing.
“Fuck’s sake, Sherlock, you can’t just give me what you think I want, just to make me stay and - “
“John,” Sherlock said, and he knew his voice was desperate and pleading, but that was okay, because this was important. “Stop talking. I’m going to talk now, and I’m going to do it slowly because I’ve never done this before, and I’m not sure I know how, and because you are not very good at listening. Okay?”
John still looked angry and suspicious, and he nodded reluctantly.
“Good. Okay, then.” Sherlock took a deep breath. Words. Right. He could do this. “I love you.”
John’s eyes widened almost comically, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Sherlock shook his head.
“No. I’m not done. I love you, John Watson. I am in love with you. You were right, in your letter, and I’m sorry. I should have seen it earlier. But I see it now. I can’t stand the thought of going back to our flat, and it not being ours anymore. I don’t want any kind of life which you are not a part of, and if you get on that plane and leave, I’m not going to be okay. Not for a long time, possibly forever. I need you to come back with me, so I can take you to bed and learn everything about you, and we can start again, but better this time. I’m sorry for being an idiot, I’m sorry for not understanding what I felt, and I’m sorry that this is what it took. I just - " he faltered, and dammit, he had been doing so well. “I love you."
Baby Please Don't Go - Part 5d
anonymous
April 3 2011, 02:48:07 UTC
By the end of his speech, Sherlock's eyes had dropped to the floor, and he cursed himself for a coward, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to look John in the eye and wait for his reaction. Because if he shook his head, if he said “I’m sorry,” if he -
He felt John’s fingers curve around his jaw and tilt his head back up.
John was smiling now, and shaking his head a little in wonder and disbelief. His eyes were bright and shining and Sherlock could see everything in them, everything that he’d been hoping for so desperately.
“Took you long enough,” was what John said, sliding his free arm around Sherlock’s waist and tugging him closer. Sherlock laughed.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, leaning forward until his forehead was touching John’s, his arms wrapped around John's shoulders. “I’m here now.”
“Yes,” John breathed, and tilted his face up, taking Sherlock’s lips in a fierce, joyful, glowing kiss. Sherlock could hear the universal “Aww” from the crowd surrounding them, a few people even starting to clap, and in a minute he was going to glare at them and tell them to piss off, fucking voyeurs, but not right now. Because right now John was kissing him like Sherlock was the best thing in the world and more necessary than breathing and Sherlock kissed him back with equal enthusiasm, licking his way into John’s mouth and claiming him for his own.
After a long moment they broke apart, and Sherlock buried his face in John’s neck and breathed for what felt like the first time in hours. He could feel John’s stubble against his cheek and John’s warm breath on his collar bone. One of John’s hands rubbing aimless circles on his back, the other warm against his neck. John's heart beating against his chest.
John eventually pulled away, and Sherlock made a small noise of discontent. John laughed and reached for his hand and tangled their fingers together, his eyes holding a thousand of unspoken promises.
Re: Baby Please Don't Go - Part 5dshe_burns1April 3 2011, 02:56:31 UTC
This is the first fic I have EVER tracked on the meme because I wanted to be kept up to date on it SO BADLY.
This is one of the greatest things that has ever existed ever. I can't even go on enough about how much I adored it and every little thing about it that was priceless and perfect and wonderful.
I adore you, author!anon - you have brought nothing but happiness into my life with this wonderous piece of fiction - so much reccing of it, shall I do in the future!
ECSTATIC OP HERE!!!
anonymous
April 3 2011, 05:06:41 UTC
OH MY GOD THIS IS EVERYTHING I WANTED AND MORE!!!!!!!! I've been freaking my dog out from squealing throughout reading this ending! My god thank you SO much for this, it's PERFECT!!!!!
I loved how frantic you made it feel, with all of the people in Sherlock's way and panicking about the upcoming security check and MYCROFT and oh my god this whole section:
************
“John!” he yelled, desperately.
Nearly everyone within a twenty-foot radius turned to stare at him, and he glared at them.
“Are any of you called John? No? Then kindly piss off,” he snarled, causing most of them to avert their eyes. Then, again, he called “John!”
At least six men looked back at him again, one saying tentatively,
“Um, yes?”
“Oh, for fuck’s -” They wouldn’t have this problem if John had been calling for him in a crowded airport.
He leapt up onto the nearest seat, and oh, that was much better. He caught sight of a familiar black jacket just disappearing through the gate, and he felt his insides twist, his hands start to tremble and his heart was hammering in a way that had nothing to do with having just run nearly a kilometre.
“JOHN WATSON,” he bellowed, and everyone turned to stare at him at that.
A sense of pure, helpless relief flooded over him when John’s head poked out from around the passageway.
************
EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That whole bit was so fucking wonderful!
And the entire back and forth between them, with John still not sure if Sherlock was sincere. AND THEN SHERLOCK'S SPEECH.... I was breathless through the whole thing!!! It was a dream speech for sure! *melts*
And this:
************
Sherlock could hear the universal “Aww” from the crowd surrounding them, a few people even starting to clap, and in a minute he was going to glare at them and tell them to piss off, fucking voyeurs, but not right now.
************
That was such a Sherlock thought. Even when the best thing in the world is happening to him he still finds most of humanity annoying as hell. Fantastic!
Again thank you so much for this. It's like a gift... a gift I will read over and over and cherish always. PURE LOVE FOR THIS AND YOU!!!
Re: ECSTATIC OP HERE!!!
anonymous
April 3 2011, 08:26:49 UTC
Yay! I'm so glad you liked it, I tried my best to stick to the prompt :D I'm glad the sense of urgency and panic came through, as well, that's exactly what I was going for! Also, I couldn't resist Mycroft :D He's pretty much the best plot device ever for when you want to get things done in a hurry!
It was such ridiculous fun to write, there's nothing I love more than unsure, insecure!Sherlock (well, except possibly pining!Sherlock ;D). Thanks for the super prompt :D
*
He had no trouble hailing a taxi.
“Heathrow!” he demanded as he leapt into the black cab. “If you get me there in under half an hour I’ll give you a hundred quid.”
The cabbie, bless his soul, looked entirely unfazed, merely nodding his head once in the rearview mirror and setting off at a brisk pace.
Sherlock leaned back and closed his eyes. He tried to choke down the panic he could feel rising, threatening to totally overwhelm him. What if he didn’t get to John in time? Alright, so there was nothing stopping him emailing John, telling him everything. But Sherlock was afraid; he was afraid that once John was there, once he’d seen, felt and touched his new life, that maybe he wouldn’t want to come back.
Sherlock knew he was a difficult man to live with. He knew John was frustrated and irritated at him just as often as he was amazed by him. And despite what John’s letter had said, Sherlock couldn’t shake the feeling that this was John reaching his breaking point, that he couldn’t handle it anymore. For the first time in his life, he desperately hoped he was wrong.
*
The cabbie made it to Heathrow in 28 minutes, a feat Sherlock deemed worthy of a rather more than a hundred pounds. Flinging the money through the window, he raced through the huge glass sliding doors. 11:31. Technically, John could have already boarded his flight, but Sherlock suspected John would be one of the last to board. He doubted John relished the thought of sitting more or less motionless in a seat for hours on end; he would probably put it off til the last minute, Sherlock reasoned.
He sprinted down the shiny, brightly lit concourse, past interminable shops and cafes and people. God, the people were driving him insane. They were everywhere, great, rolling masses of humanity, shopping and talking and eating and generally being in the way. Sherlock despised every last one of them for making him dodge around them, making him twist and weave his way though the crowds, for every second making it more and more likely that he wasn’t going to get to John in time.
And, oh fuck, he hadn’t even thought about having to go through security. But now a check loomed ahead of him, and Sherlock seriously contemplated simply jumping the barriers and bypassing it completely. After a moment’s contemplation, however, he decided that he didn’t particularly relish the idea of being tackled to the ground by a security team and forced into an interview room and cross examined for hours. Sighing heavily, he stepped into line behind a grey-haired woman clutching her handbag. She moved slowly and shakily, patting down her pockets in confusion, and if she didn’t hurry up and find that last bit of metal concealed somewhere on her person, he was going to prove Donovan right and he would be standing over a dead bod, and oh God, it was 11:37 now and John would have to board in the next five minutes and -
His increasingly panicky train of thought was arrested by the sight of a security guard gesturing him forward, a slight frown on his face. This set off a whole new series of panicky thoughts, but he calmly stepped up to the man.
“Sherlock Holmes?”
“Ye-es,” Sherlock replied, cautious and curious in equal measure. The man nodded and said something indecipherable into the walkie-talkie clipped to his shoulder. He turned back to Sherlock.
“Go ahead, sir. You won’t be stopped again.”
Sherlock gaped at him for a moment, completely non-plussed. Then,
“Mycroft,” he whispered, awed. He shot the man a dazzling, genuine smile before he dashed through, and fucking hell, he was never going to tease Mycroft about his diet again, if this worked out. Or not for a month, at the very least.
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“John!” he yelled, desperately.
Nearly everyone within a twenty-foot radius turned to stare at him, and he glared at them.
“Are any of you called John? No? Then kindly piss off,” he snarled, causing most of them to avert their eyes. Then, again, he called “John!”
At least six men looked back at him again, one saying tentatively,
“Um, yes?”
“Oh, for fuck’s -” They wouldn’t have this problem if John had been calling for him in a crowded airport.
He leapt up onto the nearest seat, and oh, that was much better. He caught sight of a familiar black jacket just disappearing through the gate, and he felt his insides twist, his hands start to tremble and his heart was hammering in a way that had nothing to do with having just run nearly a kilometre.
“JOHN WATSON,” he bellowed, and everyone turned to stare at him at that.
A sense of pure, helpless relief flooded over him when John’s head poked out from around the passageway.
“Sherlock? What the hell are you doing here?” John demanded, surprised, striding towards him. Sherlock jumped off the seat and rushed towards him, grabbing him by the arms as soon as he was in reach, desperate to feel John’s solid weight under his hands, to be physically reassured that John was still here.
“Oh God, John, thank goodness,” he breathed, clutching at him so tightly that is had hurt.
John was staring at him, wide-eyed, clearly utterly confused by Sherlock’s admittedly bizarre behaviour.
“Um, Sherlock?” he said, tentatively this time. “Is there something wrong?”
Sherlock shook his head. His heart was still pounding, he could hear it in his ears, and he felt like he was drowning; the adrenaline was pumping through his blood, making it sing, unaware that he no longer needed it. John did not look reassured, but he said gently,
“Um, that’s good? Except, I kind of have a plane to catch, so if you wouldn’t mind filling me in on why you’re here and why you’re cutting off the circulation to my arms, that’d be great.”
Sherlock opened his mouth. He closed it again.
Shit.
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He stared at John, took in his blue eyes, his forehead currently crinkled in confusion, his broad, strong shoulders, his delightfully perfect jaw. He could feel the panic welling up again, because there was no way, there was no way this ridiculous, wonderful man standing infront was going to choose him, not after everything Sherlock had put him through for four years, not after Sherlock had completely failed to see what was right in front of him. Not when he had a whole other life waiting for him, one free of Sherlock’s moods, his experiments and his complete failure at basic human interaction.
“Hey, hey, Sherlock, what is it?”
John was rubbing Sherlock’s arms now, clearly alarmed by the terror he saw painted on Sherlock’s face.
“Stay,” Sherlock blurted out.
“What?”
“Stay. Don’t leave. Don’t go to Colorado. Come back with me.”
John sighed.
“Sherlock, I can’t, you know I can’t.”
“No, you can, you can, John. Don’t leave me, please.”
“Sherlock - ”
“I don’t know what to do without you.” Sherlock winced. He hated the way his voice sounded, small and afraid.
“Sherlock, for god’s sake, not everything is about you!”
John looked a little angry now, and he had taken a step back, his hands falling from Sherlock’s arms to clench at his sides.
“What? No, John, I - ”
“So you’ll have to make your own tea for once and there’ll be no one around to tell you you’re brilliant. Grow up, Sherlock, think about someone else for once in your life.”
People were unabashedly staring at them now, clearly enthralled by the drama unfolding in front of them. And John wasn’t finished yet.
“I’m sorry that my feelings are such a massive inconvenience to you, Sherlock, but you’ll just have to - what the fuck are you doing?!”
Sherlock had taken two steps forward and closed the gap between them, bringing his hands up to firmly grasp the sides of John’s head, to hold him steady so that Sherlock could look straight into his eyes.
“Stay,” he said again, and kissed him.
For a moment, it was perfect; John’s lips were exactly as warm and soft as Sherlock had known they would be, and Sherlock could drown in this, in John’s scent and taste. And then John was shoving him back, his eyes flashing.
“Fuck’s sake, Sherlock, you can’t just give me what you think I want, just to make me stay and - “
“John,” Sherlock said, and he knew his voice was desperate and pleading, but that was okay, because this was important. “Stop talking. I’m going to talk now, and I’m going to do it slowly because I’ve never done this before, and I’m not sure I know how, and because you are not very good at listening. Okay?”
John still looked angry and suspicious, and he nodded reluctantly.
“Good. Okay, then.” Sherlock took a deep breath. Words. Right. He could do this. “I love you.”
John’s eyes widened almost comically, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Sherlock shook his head.
“No. I’m not done. I love you, John Watson. I am in love with you. You were right, in your letter, and I’m sorry. I should have seen it earlier. But I see it now. I can’t stand the thought of going back to our flat, and it not being ours anymore. I don’t want any kind of life which you are not a part of, and if you get on that plane and leave, I’m not going to be okay. Not for a long time, possibly forever. I need you to come back with me, so I can take you to bed and learn everything about you, and we can start again, but better this time. I’m sorry for being an idiot, I’m sorry for not understanding what I felt, and I’m sorry that this is what it took. I just - " he faltered, and dammit, he had been doing so well. “I love you."
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He felt John’s fingers curve around his jaw and tilt his head back up.
John was smiling now, and shaking his head a little in wonder and disbelief. His eyes were bright and shining and Sherlock could see everything in them, everything that he’d been hoping for so desperately.
“Took you long enough,” was what John said, sliding his free arm around Sherlock’s waist and tugging him closer. Sherlock laughed.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, leaning forward until his forehead was touching John’s, his arms wrapped around John's shoulders. “I’m here now.”
“Yes,” John breathed, and tilted his face up, taking Sherlock’s lips in a fierce, joyful, glowing kiss. Sherlock could hear the universal “Aww” from the crowd surrounding them, a few people even starting to clap, and in a minute he was going to glare at them and tell them to piss off, fucking voyeurs, but not right now. Because right now John was kissing him like Sherlock was the best thing in the world and more necessary than breathing and Sherlock kissed him back with equal enthusiasm, licking his way into John’s mouth and claiming him for his own.
After a long moment they broke apart, and Sherlock buried his face in John’s neck and breathed for what felt like the first time in hours. He could feel John’s stubble against his cheek and John’s warm breath on his collar bone. One of John’s hands rubbing aimless circles on his back, the other warm against his neck. John's heart beating against his chest.
John eventually pulled away, and Sherlock made a small noise of discontent. John laughed and reached for his hand and tangled their fingers together, his eyes holding a thousand of unspoken promises.
“Let’s go home,” John said.
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MY
GOD
HERE, HAVE MY HEART, TAKE IT, I DON'T WANT IT ANYMORE
THIS IS SO. FUCKING. CUTE
INCOHERENT COMMENT IS INCOHERENT
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This is one of the greatest things that has ever existed ever. I can't even go on enough about how much I adored it and every little thing about it that was priceless and perfect and wonderful.
I adore you, author!anon - you have brought nothing but happiness into my life with this wonderous piece of fiction - so much reccing of it, shall I do in the future!
Reply
Reply
I loved how frantic you made it feel, with all of the people in Sherlock's way and panicking about the upcoming security check and MYCROFT and oh my god this whole section:
************
“John!” he yelled, desperately.
Nearly everyone within a twenty-foot radius turned to stare at him, and he glared at them.
“Are any of you called John? No? Then kindly piss off,” he snarled, causing most of them to avert their eyes. Then, again, he called “John!”
At least six men looked back at him again, one saying tentatively,
“Um, yes?”
“Oh, for fuck’s -” They wouldn’t have this problem if John had been calling for him in a crowded airport.
He leapt up onto the nearest seat, and oh, that was much better. He caught sight of a familiar black jacket just disappearing through the gate, and he felt his insides twist, his hands start to tremble and his heart was hammering in a way that had nothing to do with having just run nearly a kilometre.
“JOHN WATSON,” he bellowed, and everyone turned to stare at him at that.
A sense of pure, helpless relief flooded over him when John’s head poked out from around the passageway.
************
EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That whole bit was so fucking wonderful!
And the entire back and forth between them, with John still not sure if Sherlock was sincere. AND THEN SHERLOCK'S SPEECH.... I was breathless through the whole thing!!! It was a dream speech for sure! *melts*
And this:
************
Sherlock could hear the universal “Aww” from the crowd surrounding them, a few people even starting to clap, and in a minute he was going to glare at them and tell them to piss off, fucking voyeurs, but not right now.
************
That was such a Sherlock thought. Even when the best thing in the world is happening to him he still finds most of humanity annoying as hell. Fantastic!
Again thank you so much for this. It's like a gift... a gift I will read over and over and cherish always. PURE LOVE FOR THIS AND YOU!!!
Reply
It was such ridiculous fun to write, there's nothing I love more than unsure, insecure!Sherlock (well, except possibly pining!Sherlock ;D). Thanks for the super prompt :D
*loves you*
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YES! BRILLIANT! CAPSLOCK AND EVERYTHING! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH RIGHT NOW!!!
WANT TO THROW MY ARMS AROUND YOU AND HUG YOU UNTIL YOU CAN'T BREATH BECAUSE OF HOW FLAILINGLY HAPPY YOU HAVE MADE ME WITH THIS
EEE!!!
AWWW!!!
YAY!!!
*runs out of breath*
*slips in happy coma*
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I HOPE YOU'VE COME OUT OF YOUR HAPPY COMA :D
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