Sherlock - The Game Is On!

The Lying Detective- Finale

Chapter Twenty

"Sherlock, I won't ever stop trying to protect you. I love you." Mary and John quietly left the room and Sherlock's sobs grew louder as his body shuddered. "It's okay. I'm here." I soothe again.

I slowly manoeuvred us to the sofa against the wall, gently straddling his legs as he sat down. Cupping his face, I rest my forehead against his. Noses brushing and fingers thread through his hair comfortably. "I love you so much, Sherlock. I don't say it enough... If it meant you got to live another hour or even another day... I'd endure the pain and the suffrage that this world has to offer. You're so pure and you don't belong to this world but... You're mean so much to me." I whispered.

With eyes red raw and cheeks stained, his quivering lips met mine. My hands splayed across his cheeks and jaw as I met each emotion that ran through him.

He was scared...

He was worried...

He felt relief...

He became calm...

But most importantly there was that one emotion that would never tremble and would never cease to amaze me when it came from him...

Love.

There was so much love.

Pulling himself away, he lifted my shirt up. He skimmed his fingers gently, ever so gently across my stomach. My scar and what would've been... I smile briefly as he hiccups his tears down. "I should've listened. I should've..."

I gently shush him. "No. Don't ever stop being you. I would never change who you are. What's happened has happened. It is what it is. I'm not mad or angry so there's no reason for you to guilt trip yourself. We live on the adrenaline, the thrill from a case. It's who we are. It's what makes us unique." I finished.

"You wouldn't change me?" He questioned, surprised. I tilt my head, smiling. "Nope. Not even when you shoot the wall at stupid o'clock in the mornings." I brush my fingers over his cheeks catching tears that dribble. "Oh my darling boy, it takes so much more than a bullet for me to go down." I murmured, pressing my lips to his again. I pull away, squinting my eyes. "Although, I suppose, I'm not sure of this." I rub my hands over my chin and cheeks. "I'd probably change that. I like my sociopaths clean shaven."

He laughs a laugh which is a joy in itself. He laughed a laugh which came from deep within. "Want me help you shave?" I ask, noticing his trembling fingers. "Please." Slowly standing up, I grab my cane. "Psychosomatic?" He questioned, referring to my slight limp. "Afraid so." I answer. "Well, we'll have to work on that." He stated, more to himself than to me. "Come on then, let's get you cleaned up."

Holding my free hand out, he holds onto it and we walk into the bathroom...

"So Molly's going to meet us at this 'cake place.'" Sherlock; Now clean shaven and back to his polished up glory, waves his hand in the air, gesturing on. We were sat in the living room. "Well, it's your birthday. Cake is obligatory." I state, getting up. "Oh, well. Suppose a sugar high's some sort of substitute."

He briskly walks to me, helping to put my coat on. "Well, I could think of a better substitute for replacement." I gleam at him. The reaction from his face was priceless. Eyes wide open. "You're not well." He dismissed. I giggle playfully. "I know, but the offers always there." I finished. "Behave." He responded after a long pause of him putting his coat on. "Oh, how the tables have turned."

Moving so quickly, but yet so perfectly, he catches my chin between his forefinger and thumb, tenderly stealing a kiss. "You're not well." He repeated but with a hint of concern. "I know, but I have this terrible feeling, from time to time, that we might all just be... Human."