A/N
This is the last chapter. I hope you enjoy!
Sherlock
John's face disappeared from my screen. My heart seemed to have been amplified because it was now the only thing I could hear. A smile appeared on my face when I realised what I had agreed to. I was going to tell him that... Well, he already knew. I'd told him but I'd never actually said the words out loud. I found it easier to type the words out on a keyboard but John had a right to hear them in person.
I ran down the stairs, not wanting to wait any longer. Whilst I was grabbing my coat and scarf from the hanger, Greg and Mycroft appeared at the opposite end of the corridor.
"Where are you going?" Greg questioned, clearly voicing my brothers thoughts.
"You found him then?" I pointed out, pulling my scarf around my neck.
Lestrade simply nodded and took Mycroft's hand in his own - a sight that I would have found disgusting a year or so ago. I now found it cute. I had the sudden urge to hold John's hand. I wanted to do all the things couples did with him. In short, I wanted him. Not in a sexual way but in a loving way. John was the kind of person you could easily imagine having a future with. I wanted to live my life with John. Grow old with him. How often is it that someone makes you feel like that?
"You didn't answer his question." Mycroft stated.
"I'm going to meet John." I laughed, unable to contain it.
With that, I turned to head out the door. I faintly heard Greg mutter "good luck" before I closed the door.
~
John
I stared at my black phone screen, already missing Sherlock's presence. I quickly got up and ran down the stairs. If I was going to do this, I was going to have to break up with Mary. It would hurt her, I knew that, but it was for the best.
"Mary?" I asked, searching around the house for her. I walked into the kitchen expecting to find her there. She wasn't. However, there was a note. Why did it always have to be a note?
I picked it up, rolling my eyes at how cliche it was, and began reading.
Dear John,
I know what you're going to say. I know I shouldn't have been, but I was listening into your conversation with Sherlock. I saw your face light up when you saw him. That never happens when you look at me... I know you don't love me, John. Don't even try to convince me (or yourself) that you do. You clearly love Sherlock. That's okay. I understand.
Before you ask, I'm not angry with you. I'm upset, yes, but I'll get over it.
I hope it works out between you and Sherlock.
- Mary
After I'd finished reading, I immediately picked up my phone. I composed a quick text and sent it to Mary. It simply read: "Thank you". I didn't send it expecting a reply and she didn't provide me with one. I knew she'd read it, though.
I ran out the door, my whole body filled with the familiar mix of fear and excitement. I made my way through the empty streets to the also empty park.
Sherlock was already there.
It was like a scene from a romantic movie. As soon as I walked through the park gates, Sherlock turned to face me. For a while we just sort of stood there, neither of us knowing what to do. We simply exchanged glances. Slowly, we began to walk towards each other. I began to pick up the pace and, once I was close enough, I threw my arms around his neck. He returned the hug by snaking his arms around my back. This, of course, meant he had to lean down. He didn't seem to mind.
