Love:The Power of Life and Death- Johnlock

Let The Games Begin...

 Winter slowly engulfed the city of London; there was a bitter chill in the air while water vapour condensed on the windows of 221B. The living room was heated with a blazing fire; it crackled softly as it ate away the wood in the fire place. The fast flickering flames were reflected on the eyes of a consulting detective. He was sat on the sofa, a case file in hand. John had replaced Sherlock’s job at Scotland Yard for the past three years as he was the only person who knew the technique of Sherlock’s great deducting skills, so Sherlock was thrilled when he returned back to his old home to find a large pile of case files in the kitchen.

“I’m impressed, John.” Sherlock flicked through John’s work as the man himself walked into the dimly lit room, carrying a tray. He placed the tray on the coffee table; two cups of tea, surrounded by chocolate digestives were in the middle of it. “Thank you.” John smiled. The doctor took a biscuit and dipped it in his tea before putting it in his mouth, reclining in his armchair and watching the man opposite him observe the files. He looked so engrossed in his work; it was as if he never left.  John knew it wasn’t like that though. Everything was completely different. The man sighed. Sherlock changed his position; he sat with his legs crossed and rested his chin on the tips of his hands that were now placed together. John knew what he was doing; he was in his mind palace. Three minutes passed. “Tell me, John.”

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

John hesitated, “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me, John, you know it won’t work.”

The doctor remained silent which caused Sherlock’s eyes to snap open; his face revealed his concern. “Please.”

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” John replied, trying to avoid answering Sherlock’s question.

Sherlock smirked. “Is that a joke? Your sigh was blatantly obvious. Now tell me…please.”

“You can’t act like nothing has happened, Sherlock.”

It was now Sherlock who remained silent.

“Sherlock!”

“What do you propose?”

“We talk this through.”

“Fine.”

The two men talked for hours on end. At first, their conversation consisted of nothing but yelling. “You put me through hell, Sherlock! I was suicidal!” “For goodness sake John! I did it to save your life!”  Eventually their argument simmered down; Sherlock apologised, as did John. They declared their forgiveness with a tender kiss. Being the man he is, Sherlock knew what John wanted to talk about next: how the hell did he survive the fall?  The detective explained to John his method to surviving the jump, along with the full quoted speech between him and Moriarty and every single detail about what happened at the top of St. Bart’s. He also explained how Molly helped with his brilliant plan while the blond just stared in amazement. Afterwards, John talked about his life over the time Sherlock left; he gleefully talked about his completed cases, how he was respected by Scotland Yard and about his part time job at the hospital to get a bit of extra money. Knowing Sherlock would be upset to hear it, the doctor missed out his stories about his depression. Sherlock informed Scotland Yard of his return while John told everyone he could about the same thing. Naturally, everyone was in shock which the detective found amusing. John couldn’t have been happier to announce his friend’s return, he couldn’t have been happier to be with Sherlock, he couldn’t have been happier watching the man he loved argue with Anderson down the phone about a recent case that apparently Sherlock saw earlier that morning.

“So…” John began, not really knowing how he was going to ask his question. He caught Sherlock’s attention as he ended his call with Anderson; he looked quite pleased with himself. “So what?” He finally responded.

“So what’s going to happen? About us I mean…” for some reason, John was anxious to hear the man’s response. A mischievous grin spread across Sherlock’s lips as he slowly made his way over to John. He took the doctor’s hand in both of his and kissed it softly, he rested his forehead on John’s. “I want to have a bit of fun.” He whispered.

“Oh really?” John couldn’t help but smile at the detective’s seductive behaviour. “What idea is spinning in that brilliant mind of yours then?” He locked his eyes onto the man’s opposite.

“Let’s keep it quiet now, John,” Sherlock returned John’s loving gaze, “don’t make it too obvious, I want it to be a game for us.” His voice was low and deep.

“And how would that be a game for us?” John asked, intrigued.

“You’ll see,” he chuckled, “whoever cracks first, loses.” Sherlock trailed his fingers gently up the side of John’s neck, sending shivers down his spine.

“Being all secretive are we?” John smiled, not caring about his accelerating heart or sweating hands, it’s not like Sherlock wouldn’t have noticed anyway. “What happens when one of us loses?”

The detective tried (but failed) to hide his grin of amusement. “Oh, that can’t be said yet, Dr. Watson.” He punctuated his reply with a wink.

John’s heart skipped a beat. “Alright,” he smiled, “let the games begin.”