Embrace

When John walked up into 221b Baker Street, shopping in his hands from a late-night trip to the shops, he was met with the scene of Sherlock standing near the window, cane gripped loosely in his hand. He was still, his back turned to John, and John could tell that he was deep in thought but still knew that John had entered the flat.

John, after quickly putting the shopping away, walked slowly towards Sherlock and dragged a hand across his shoulders, settling on one and giving it a firm squeeze. Sherlock looked at John and smiled morosely before turning back towards the window, scanning the dark horizon in front of him.

“What’re you thinking about?” John asked, stepping a bit closer to Sherlock, staring up at his face.

“Hmm?” Sherlock hummed after a few seconds as if he hadn’t heard what John just asked.

“What's going on up there in that big brain of yours?” Sherlock was silent for a few seconds more, as if he didn’t quite know how to answer John.

“I’ve been thinking quite hard about some things,” he managed to say, his eyelids fluttering slightly. John put a hand over Sherlock’s that was resting on the cane handle and realized it was now clenched tightly. His eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“About what? What’s wrong?” John asked, running his thumb over the back of Sherlock’s hand in what he hoped was a comforting way. Sherlock took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out slowly.

“I’ve been… thinking about retiring,” Sherlock said, his eyes never leaving the scene beyond the window. John blinked once, twice, three times before getting impossibly closer to Sherlock, eyebrows still furrowed in concern.

“Well, what’s so bad about that?” John asked, leaning his head gently against Sherlock’s shoulder. “No one’s going to make you retire, love, it’s your decision.” Sherlock took another deep breath, and John felt his hand clench even tighter for a second.

“I want to retire, John,” Sherlock said softly. “My knee only gets worse as days go by, and I’m finding that I’m getting a little bit too old to be running around London chasing criminals.” John found himself relating to Sherlock; his shoulder was in pain more often than not, and after every case he had a deep-set exhaustion in his bones that took days to shake off. “It’s just- I’ve been wondering if you’ll still love me, when I’m no longer adrenaline and blood pumping wildly through your veins,” Sherlock said quietly, his voice shaking around the words. John felt it like a physical punch and he gasped in a breath, causing Sherlock to flinch, his eyes watering.

“Sherlock…” John whispered, moving to stand in front of Sherlock, the man still not meeting his gaze. “Do you really think I wouldn’t love you anymore?” Sherlock hesitated, his bottom lip wobbling slightly.

“One of the reasons you started loving me was because of how I made you feel, how I could provide you with what you needed, what you craved. I could give you that adventure, the element of surprise,” Sherlock whispered back, tears starting to run down his face. “I’ll no longer be able to do tha, John, not when I’m an old man with a bad hip and an even worse knee.” He shut his eyes tightly as if to try and fight the tears back. John brought both hands up to cup his face and wipe them away, leaning up to press a soft kiss to Sherlock’s chin.

“I don’t need any of that anymore, ‘Lock. It’ll be an honor to retire with you and your bad knee to shuffle around the house with you, dancing slowly along to whatever music you have playing that night. I want to have early nights in with you, and nice lie-in’s when we have nothing to do that day,” John said, meaning every single word. Sherlock opened his eyes and (finally) looked John in the eyes, his eyes watery, his smile shaky. “I’ll still love you just as much when you're old and you have silver hair, and when you wear jumpers just like mine because you’ll need the extra warmth.” Sherlock let out a slightly choked laugh before winding his arms around John, nuzzling his nose against John’s neck. John embraced him back and pressed a soft kiss to Sherlock’s head, nosing around in his soft curls.

They stood like that, embracing in their flat for longer than either of them cared to count, Sherlock’s fingers dancing over John’s back, John’s fingers carding softly through Sherlock’s hair. It would soon be the end of one adventure, but the beginning of another.

*Well, this is the end, my friends!! I do hope you've enjoyed this journey as much as I have, and thank you so much for sticking with me through this! I love you all so much :blue_heart: *