Ao-Lover

"I've decided to ask her to marry me." The statement came from nowhere. It was unprecedented and startling. John was merely sitting, enjoying his tea as he read the paper, while Sherlock himself tended to his violin. "What?" He looked up, taken aback. "I'm going to ask Mary for her hand in marriage, Holmes." He blinked. Swallowed. Registered what John had said and the full impact of these words. John would marry her, and would therefore live with her. Be away from him for the rest of his life. That would be… difficult. "Holmes?" He jerked back to reality then. "Congratulations." He said, sniffing in an offhand way, his nose twit

36 Months. He hadn't expected it to take three years. Three years had proved to be a very long time. A lot of thinking, a lot of missing, a lot of close calls, a lot of traveling, a lot of nightmares, a lot of lying, a lot of running, a lot of changes, and a lot of feeling irrationally, illogically incomplete, like a part of him was missing. John. John was that part of him. He hadn't realized it until he had left, until John wasn't a part of his life, until he was talking to John and realized with a brutal clarity that John was not next to him. He needed John. He stands in the shadows across the street from 221b, watching John bid goo

36 Months. 'Are you busy? JW' 'Not at all. MM' 'I could use company. JW' 'On my way. MM' John set his mobile down, running a hand through his hair. He hadn't seen or heard from the Sherlock that wasn't there since he'd finally said aloud the things he'd thought over and over. He felt… Hell, he'd felt better. It was strange, feeling better. Very strange. Of course, it still hurt. Today especially. But he'd been better. He hadn't felt like he was walking such a fine line between functioning and falling apart since he'd last visited Sherlock. Since he'd finally said what he'd meant to. It was different, too, that he wanted Mary here today

32 Months. He sat, head in his hands. "Why are you even still here?" "Because you want me to be." Replied the cool voice. He said nothing. It was true. He'd had conversations like this every day for the past month and a half. He knew it wasn't healthy. He could only imagine what Ella would say about it. He knew he should make some effort to move on, to stop. And he didn't care. He wanted to hear Sherlock. Sometimes he saw him, more and more often. "This is seriously unhealthy…" he murmured. "Yet here I am. Or would you like me to go?" "No." "Then I won't." "You're a selfish bastard, you know that?" "You've mentioned it." "You just

28 Months. John was sitting, drinking tea, reading the paper. Everything had been markedly uneventful. Mary and Harry were still together, and he was glad to see Mary so happy with her. He knew that Mary was good for his sister, the two were such an excellent match. She'd been so supportive in keeping Harry clean, just as John knew she would be. He set his cup down and something caught his eye. He turned his full attention to Sherlock's chair, and his mouth fell open. Sherlock was there. Sitting, curled up in his chair, his jacket and scarf still on, his hands together in front of him as though in prayer. He was right there! "Sh-Sherlock?!