A/N So I was listening to Red by Taylor Swift and got a little inspired. I also ship Mystrade pretty hardcore so there is Mystrade in this fic. This is pretty much straight fluff. Enjoy<3
"Hey John, can I ask you something?" I turned my attention to the drunken Di sitting beside me, humming my acknowledgement. He had invited me out to the pub earlier today and after countless pints, we now found ourselves propped against a tree in a darkened park. Both of us were well past tipsy at this point and were giggling at pretty much everything. I liked hanging out with Greg; it was always so different from hanging out with Sherlock. As much as I love my husband, trying to get him to loosen up and have fun can get tedious. "What is it like, loving Sherlock?" I thought about that for a while, trying to find exactly the right words to describe what it was to love that crazy man. I remembered a song I heard once and fought to remember the words.
"Red," I said with finality, laughing at the confusion that etched my soon-to-be brother-in-law's face. "Loving Sherlock Holmes is dangerous, like driving a Maserati down a dead end street, fast and crazy and I know it probably won't end well. But it's far too late to change my mind because I am already free falling. When I touch him I am reminded of how I will never need anything ever again, and when we fight it's like trying to solve a puzzle that I can't figure out, but I honestly couldn't imagine anything better." I was lost in thoughts of my amazing husband.
"I will never know how you two do it, after everything that has happened. I can't even imagine what it must have felt like to think you lost him like that." My eyes swam when I remembered the pain I had gone through when Sherlock had faked his suicide all those years ago.
"That was some crazy mix of blue and dark grey, and lonelier than I have ever felt. Trying to forget him and move on was like trying to know everything about someone you have never met before. But even after all of that, it is still burning red to love that crazy man." Greg grinned and rested his head on my shoulder. He was always affectionate when he was drunk, so I leaned my head down to rest on his. I watched as he fiddled with the sleek, black wedding band on his finger.
"Do you think Mycroft will ever love me the same way Sherlock loves you?"
"No."
"Thanks man; that really helps calm the wedding jitters." We giggled for a few minutes.
"I don't mean that he doesn't love you, I just mean I think that they feel things differently. Sherlock feels things ten times stronger than anyone, whereas Mycroft can't register emotions as efficiently. I have no doubt that he loves with every fibre of his frigid heart, he just isn't as adept at showing them." I felt Greg nod against my shoulder, still fiddling with his ring. "Have you ever doubted how he feels about you Greg?"
"Not even once."
"Good, then there is your answer. Don't try to compare yourself to other couples; it will just leave you confused."
"You know, he has never told me he loves me? At least not outright,"
"Sherlock has only ever said it once to me, and that was at our wedding."
"So you mean, when he said it in his vows,"
"Yep, first and only time,"
"Doesn't that bother you?"
"Nope, he has other ways of showing me he loves me."
"Like what?"
"Well, the way he touches me, how gentle he is when he holds me. How he always knows just when I need to be in charge and when I need him to take over. How vulnerable he allows himself to be while we are making love-"
"John, I rather think Gavin isn't nearly drunk enough to withstand your talk of our sexual activities." Both of us jumped at the sound of Sherlock's voice, lapsing into more giggles.
"Hey babe, what are you doing here? How did you find us?" I asked, looking up at the ethereal face of my husband. He was standing over us, looking rather sleepy in the pale light.
"Mycroft called, he was getting concerned when your movements stopped in the middle of a park. What on Earth are you two doing out here anyways?"
"We are just talking about how much we love you guys, and colors."
"Colors,"
"Yep, colors."
"Alright then, come on, time to get you both home. Mycroft is waiting in the car." Greg shot upright and grinned, grabbing Sherlock's hand and allowing him to pull him to his feet. He swayed for a minute before smiling at my husband and clapping him on the back.
"Myc came with you? I can't believe it." Greg sounded pleased and hopeful.
"Of course he came; he was very concerned about you. I have never seen him more worried about another human being. He loves you so much Gary." I stumbled to my feet with the help of my husband and watched as Greg's face changed to a bright red. We all started walking back to the car, Greg and I trying to drunkenly explain our evening to a surprisingly quiet Sherlock.
"Greg, there you are!" We heard Mycroft's concerned voice as we approached the car. Greg's smile brightened and he almost ran to his fiancé, gripping him in a tight hug.
"I missed you Myc."
"I missed you too dear, now can we go home?" Greg nodded and allowed himself to be herded into the car.
"You should tell him you love him more." Sherlock said, causing me to spin to face him in shock. Where had that come from? "They aren't like us; they need to hear the words sometimes." Mycroft looked as surprised as I felt, but his face soon softened and he nodded. "We can walk, you take Greg home." Mycroft nodded and bid us farewell, leaving us standing on the sidewalk.
Sherlock took my arm in his and started to lead us home.
"Red," I said again, remembering my conversation with Greg. Sherlock hummed in confusion and I giggled. "Loving you is red, and painful, and messy, and scary. But I wouldn't have it any other way." I nuzzled into his shoulder as we walked, yawning as sleepiness overtook me. We walked in silence for a ways before Sherlock suddenly stopped and spun around, placing his hands on my face and pulling me in for a deep kiss. I hummed softly and smiled into the kiss, it wasn't often Sherlock was this affectionate outside of the flat.
"I love you John. I know I don't say it, but it is true. I will venture to tell you that at least once a day. I forget sometimes that you need verbal confirmation of my love for you." I cut him off with a quick kiss, wavering slightly on my toes.
"Sherlock, I love you more than words can say, and yes, I love hearing those words coming from that perfect mouth of yours, but I know how you are. You are more physical than verbal, and I can hear you say those three little words in your actions a lot more than if you said them every day." He smirked and kissed me again, pulling me close.
"I love you John."
"I love you to Sherlock." We started walking home once again, hand in hand. As we walked I sang the song that reminded me of what it was to love this crazy man.
Loving him is like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street
Faster than the wind, passionate as sin, ending so suddenly
Loving him is like trying to change your mind once you're already flying through the free-fall
Like the colours in autumn so bright just before they lose it all
Losing him was blue like I've never known
Missing him was dark grey all alone
Forgetting him was like trying to know somebody you never met
But loving him was red
