Selfish | Johnlock Oneshot

Selfish

Sherlock took his bottle of wine from the corner of the mantel-piece. He poured a cup and took a long sip, the warm liquid going down his throat. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

He wanted to have something else, but he had promised John to be alert during the dinner party. He didn't mention anything about afterwards.

He heard the creak of the stairs as John descended.

John took a deep breath."Well?" He asked, raising his arms slightly. "How do I look?"

Sherlock swallowed as he gazed towards his companion for several years. He wore a long blue wool coat, a remainder of his military history. It was well-fitted, adorning his body. Several words came to his mind, but what he settled on was, "Good."

John took a couple of steps towards him. He smelled of soap, leather and expensive scotch. He reached up and started to fix Sherlock's scarf. He shook his head helplessly. "You never managed to do it right."

Sherlock opened his mouth; a quick comeback on the tip of his tongue then closed it again. Instead, he shrugged. He could feel John's hands brushing against his own coat. His mind raced as he thought of a way to tell him what was on his mind, but like every time the words stuck in his throat, choking him.

They left their -soon to be just his, Sherlock reminded himself- apartment. The sky was as dark as slate still and the icy north wind was blowing the rain straight into their faces. The carriage was waiting for them outside.

They spent the first few minutes in silence. John had told of his plans about a week ago; he was always like that, planning everything in detail. Never leaving anything to the last moment. Sherlock's plans went as far as his cases. His vision of his future consisted of him doing what he always did; solving crimes. It remained like that for a long time, until he decided to get a new roommate. Since then, there was that part of him, that hoped his future would consist of something a little bit more.

"You know I will come and visit," John whispered, turning towards him and breaking him out of his reverie. It was almost like he was reading his thoughts.

Sherlock nodded without looking. He knew that. He repeated that to himself more time than he could count for the past few days, but no matter how many time he did, he wouldn't settle for just visits. He didn't want to.

"I know you and Mary don't like each other, but soon enough you will get used to her. I am sure you will be friends. She..." he chuckled, his warm breath brushing against Sherlock's skin. "She reminds me a little bit of you, actually."

Sherlock glared at him. Watson looked at his expression and grinned. "Well, it is true."

"Do you love her?" He murmured. He needed to be certain, that he didn't sacrifice it all for nothing.

John frowned, his grin fading from his lips. "What? What kind of question is this?"

"A simple question really-"

"Holmes, I'm about to ask her in less than an hour-"

"Then you should have no problem answering-"

"This isn't really the best time to-"

"Just answer me," Sherlock said and flinched inwardly at the pleading tone he heard in his voice. The carriage stopped.

"Are you going to stay inside forever?" Someone yelled from the street. John opened the door and yelled something back. Sherlock closed his eyes and clenched his hands into fists, trying to stop them from shaking.

"We need to go," John said, turning around again.

He swallowed and nodded. "Of course."

"Why did you think of asking me now?"