It was a fact too painful to bear.

All of it made John's chest tighten.

He needed air. Desperately.

He needed to get out of this messed up place.

"I can't." was all he could say as he marched towards the door, reaching for his jacket.

Sherlock's eyes widened, flickering rapidly from side to side; panic gripping the detective by the throat.

No. Please no.

Not that. Not now!

"John?!" Sherlock's raspy voice questioned.

But John had already opened the door to the stairway. He really was going.

"I need some air" the man didn't even turn around or stop. He honestly feared what he might have done if he stayed too long.

It all hurt him far too much.

It was best for both of them that he walked out.

"J-John?" Holmes' usually assertive tongue twisted and he stuttered.

Now it was Sherlock's chest cavity that cramped.

His world fell apart in front of him. It felt like he had crash landed.

"Please"

The word was barely audible as it made it past his reluctant lips.

Sherlock Holmes was begging.

"Please" he repeated it, for fear of not being heard, putting what little strength he could muster behind such alien words.

John's feet slowed down. His scalp prickled.

He knew what that slight tremor in his friend's voice meant. He knew how desperate he would have to be to utter that word…

He was too proud… usually…

But John really did need the air in his lungs, he had to cool himself down. The cold London air would help that along…

He pulled awkwardly at the still open jacket, feeling it against his naked skin. He was just about to close the door behind him; headed for the stairs, for freedom.

"Don't leave me" Sherlock's voice actually broke this time.

He sounded like a little child. All forlorn, but still sincere.

John barely dared to turn his head. Could he really see him in that state? Should he? Wouldn't Holmes prefer if his emotional self stayed a myth?

But it was a sniffle that did make him turn…

Was he… was Sherlock… crying?

John spun around, facing his friend.

The light caught the wet film that laid over Sherlock's eyes. And Watson's sore jaw felt like it let go of its hinges.

Oh no.

"Sherlock, no" John gasped.

"Don't leave me tonight"

The taller of them seemed to tiny. He was shuddering; his long fingers cramped and fiddled… seeming to grasp at something that wasn't there.

"Sherlock…" John weighed his words; his brain running a marathon trying to find the right to approach this unfamiliar situation.

He was used to the insults and the smirks, trying to read through the lines… this was uncharted territory; for the both of them it seemed.

Feelings… Holmes was feeling. In a big way.

John couldn't find a single word… so he did what two normal people in a similar situation would have done…

He embraced him; John's hands pressing at his shoulder blades, hugging Sherlock towards himself.

The sniffling detective was rigid; taken aback but had no time to push him away… so he remained frozen in Watson's caring arms.

Eventually Sherlock agreed with himself that it was probably best for John's own sake… the hug. He had always seemed to indulge in those things… so even when his senses slowly started to surface he fought the impulse to shove him away.

"I'm not leaving you, mate" John's voice bore clear signs of being overwhelmed by those pesky emotions, too…

Lies. That was exactly what he was doing!

He had merely changed his mind temporarily due to a display of waterworks… though this time Sherlock had not been in control…

Was it really so easy?

John's hands had almost crushed his shoulder blades… and now he seemed to realize it; so instead John carefully circled his palms into his pale scarred back; rubbing slowly… and just like earlier that night, on the bed, it did seem to have that soothing effect.

Sherlock closed his eyes and sighed.

John let his hands speak… holding his partner; not willing to let go… rubbing him, trying to warm him up… he seemed so very cold! Feeling him… like he never had before… skin to skin.

But suddenly as he started he stopped… taking half a step back; locking eyes with a confounded Sherlock.

"You are the one leaving me…" John seemed to regret his words the second they trailed off his blushing lips.

What? What on Earth did he imply?

No questions were spoken… but his brow furrowed, his face showing it well enough.

"I would do anything for you, Sherlock. Anything" John sighed… Sherlock read the well-hidden anger hiding deep beneath that promise. "I will" he corrected himself; making sure it transpired that their relation was not a thing of the past… not wanting to cement Sherlock's worries.

"You broke my heart tonight" It pained him having to say it out loud.

Sherlock could not stop his brow from once again furrowing. All hearts are broken…

A long silence ensued… both of them just staring at the other… No words either could find seemed to fit.

The silence was so loud none of them noticed the dark eyes that widened, watching them at close range… But the painful whimper that might as well have come from a small wounded animal made both of their heads spin around… remembering they were never alone…

Tears streaked her ashen cheeks… Her dark eyes almost black. One hand clutched at her stomach, the other hugging the doorframe to keep herself on her feet… but somehow it didn't seem connected to the retching she did earlier…

Sherlock gave her a grave look… John seemed the more confused.

"You're a liar, Sherlock" she cried. This time not using his nasty nickname… "And to think I believed you"… she was awfully lucid for once, capable of feeling the full effect of her sour regrets… "You said you were incapable of love… clearly you are".

Holmes didn't even try to rectify the situation…

The woman stumbled back into the kitchen; falling against the table, taking down more of Sherlock's experiments.

"John… I…" His voice was croaky. "I need you" Holmes' teeth seemed to hug his lower lip; he took heavy breaths "Now more than ever"

Finally he got the words out. Finally he said what needed to be said.

"Of course" was John's short reply. He stuck his hands into the jacket and coughed.