what if john tries to start saying how he feels and sherlock gets anxious and starts moving away because hes literally just afraid even though he wants to know he wants john to love him and deep down he knows hes about to say it but hes scared and then john’s like. sherlock holmes. stand here. so i can tell you how i feel. kind of captain watsony but also about to cry? and sherlocks like, holy shit, because! he knows how bad john is with talking about his feelings!!! and sherlock’s like “take my hand” and johns like “why?” and sherlocks like “stop me in case i try to run again” and theyre bOTH BREATHING SO HARD AND SHAKING AND JOHN CANT KEEP EYE CONTACT FOR MORE THAN A FEW SECONDS but hes TALKING hes telling him how he FEELS and sherlocks just MOUTH AGAPE ABOUT TO CRY and theyre squeezing each others hands so tight it hurts but everything is on fire and they can barely even tell?!?!?!?! anyway everything just got too real peace out
john and sherlock dancing to can’t help falling in love……on their wedding night………..everybody watching…john quietly humming along in sherlock’s ear……… sherlock crying when john sings “so darling take my hand, take my whole life too, cause I can’t help falling in love with you”…….. sobbing into the shoulder of john’s shirt because he can’t believe how lucky he is……… john trying hard not to cry also………………. doing it anyway….laughing through his tears and and calling them soppy sods……….. saying they love each other so much……………….sherlock when they are older and retired picking up his violin and playing it……………… john getting up to stand behind sherlock with his hands around his waist while he plays and presses kisses to his back…………………………………….. i am crying
I’d have thought I’d be nervous, up on the roof with Sherlock in the middle of the night. It’s different somehow, when we’re together. Doesn’t feel scary. We climbed out on the roof of 221 Baker Street with a rug to lie on and a bottle of wine, and Sherlock’s hand is in mine, and I’m not afraid he’ll fly away from me. We’re flat on our backs, looking up at the clear, glittering, purple sky and the wine is nearly gone. The city is almost quiet, in the way that cities are almost quiet sometimes, and it’s close enough to peace. We’re wise enough now to take our moments of idyll where we find them.
Sherlock presses my hand and half turns his head to speak into my ear, puffing warm wine breath on my cheek and down my neck, “Tell me which constellations you know.”
“Constellations?” I turn as well, kiss the tip of his nose.
Sherlock’s face crinkles with pleasure, “Yes, you’re my expert, John. Tell me which ones you know.”
“I er,” I look up at the sky, then back at him and giggle, “I don’t know any constellations.”
Sherlock nudges me with his elbow, “Make it up, then, John. I’m giving you the opportunity to be romantic. I thought you enjoyed that.”
I laugh, “All right then. Hmmm.” I squint up at the sky, looking for shapes. “Okay,” I say after a moment of gazing, “There’s the Hound.”
Sherlock giggles, “The Hound, John? Does it have glowing red eyes?”
“Shut up, Sherlock. Don’t giggle at my romance. Here, look.” I point, “See the floppy ears? There and there. And there’s the wagging tail, just there.”
Sherlock follows my pointing finger and smiles a wine-muzzy smile, “Ah yes,” he murmurs. “I see it now. Beautiful.”
I grin and kiss his cheek, “Yeah?”
“Mmm, I knew you’d show me something worth seeing, John. You always do. My conductor of starlight. Yes,” Sherlock squeezes my hand again, “Yes, it’s quite beautiful.”