So here's the final chapter of JW. I hope you've enjoyed. Thanks so much for those of you who have reviewed! It's so nice to know that people love John and Sherlock as much as I do (it's my daughter's fault that I am so obsessed!)! As always, Read and Review! My muse will love you forever!

In the cold light of day, it all looked like crap.

He was pretty sure he'd screwed up his friendship with Sherlock. Sherlock had admitted months ago that he was gay. John had insisted from the time they met that there was no interest. However, he had finally stopped arguing with people when they stated that Sherlock and he were a couple. He'd come to the conclusion that there was no point.

What had hurt most the night before was Sherlock's rejection. He had thought for weeks that Sherlock was interested in him. He had even thought to do or say something to Sherlock about it, but it had never been "the right time". He looked in the little beveled mirror above his dresser as he brushed his hair.

"Well," he said to himself, "no time like the present, eh?"

He grimaced at himself in the mirror and headed downstairs to find Sherlock. He'd known Sherlock was home if only because he'd been composing melancholy songs since about 8 am.

When he walked into the parlor, the music stopped. Sherlock put the violin down gently before he turned to face John. The anguish in the man's eyes brought tears to his.

"Sherlock," John said on a mere whisper.

Sherlock closed his eyes and turned to face the window.

"I-I can't, John," he said sadly.

John was at a loss for a moment. But he knew that he needed to fix whatever misconception Sherlock had found in the middle of the night. They would not be able to live like this with the tension that was so palpable you could cut it with a knife.

"You will," John said forcefully, striding up to Sherlock. He grabbed his shoulder and turned him to look him full in the face. "You will listen to what I have to say…ALL I have to say. If, at the end of that you still can't…can't whatever…live with me, talk to me, love me…then I'll find a place to go…But you have to listen to everything I say to you. Can you do that for me, Sherlock? Can you listen to me for once?"

All Sherlock could do was nod. John had asked him to love him. It was all he had heard in that whole tirade, but it had been the most beautiful thing he'd ever hear, John wanted him to love him! John walked to his chair and sat, indicating that Sherlock should do the same. He sat automatically.

"Focus, Sherlock," John said suddenly, "Hear what I have to say. Don't go off on a tangent. I think it's why things went the way they did last night."

Sherlock nodded. Of course. They'd both been highly emotionally charged; he with wanting to care for John and John from his nightmare. There might have been some misunderstanding…even on his part.

"I-I want to thank you for coming to check on me last night after my nightmare," John said, "I'm-I'm glad you were there."

Sherlock had promised to listen, so he simply nodded in response.

"I think, however, you misconstrued what my nightmare was about?"

The question was evident, but Sherlock had agreed not to interrupt. He just stared at John, the hurt and jealousy of the previous evening starting to rear its ugly head again.

"Sherlock," John said, interrupting his thoughts, "It isn't what you think."

He couldn't stand it, "Not what I think? How could it not be that? You'd just told me earlier in the day about the man you were in love with and then you had a nightmare about him. What's to misconstrue about that?"

"Look, can you just listen for a moment longer, please?" John asked roughly. When Sherlock nodded, he continued, "Andrew was a sweet man. He was good looking, which until him had never meant anything to me. I'd never even given another man a second look, but there was something about him that I was so drawn to. He wooed me in such a way that I never really even realized what was happening. He made me more aware of who I am, but I knew that while he might take my virginity, he would not be forever.

"When I met you, I was shocked at how similar the two of you were," John said, noticing the tightness in Sherlock's jaw, "Andrew was as dumb as a brick. He had no interests other than beer and football and usually drinking one while he was watching the other. I've never had any interest in that. He had an adventurous spirit, but it would never include me, because he was entrenched in the Army even more than I was. He preferred to be on the front lines, taking guys out instead of saving their lives.

"Andrew's kisses that first night knocked me out of my socks. I'd never been kissed by a man, but it felt so right. I'd never been touched by someone who knew so instinctively what I needed or wanted. But I don't know that I was in love with him. I think I was more in 'curiosity' with him. I enjoyed our one evening together, but it wasn't enough for me to say I loved him. But when I got back home, I couldn't get his kisses out of my mind. I couldn't get the way his hands would touch me out of my mind. I've searched for a woman to make me feel the things he made me feel since I got home. But as with him, I never found the emotional connection that I wanted; that I thought had started with him."

"If you didn't love him, why does he haunt your nightmares?" Sherlock asked dejectedly, bringing his head back up to look John in the eye.

John just shook his head and smiled slightly. It had all become so obvious to him now. Sherlock had been jealous of Andrew the night before. He was jealous even now.

"He's dead, Sherlock," John said tightly, "You're not. And that's why I woke up screaming."

He could see that all of Sherlock's thought processes stopped momentarily. John knew that if Sherlock hadn't been scrambling to make sense of what he'd had said, he probably would have doubled over in pain.

"I have a simple question for you that should clear up this whole misunderstanding," John said calmly.

Sherlock looked at him and nodded.

"Whose name did I scream at the end of my nightmare?"

Sherlock tilted his head and closed his eyes for a moment. Suddenly, they popped open. All jealousy and pain was gone. Instead, there was wonderment and awe in Sherlock's face that John had never seen.

"Whose?" John asked again, with a gentle smile.

"Mine," Sherlock said softly.

"Right," John responded with a bigger smile, "Yours. I didn't dream of Andrew last night…haven't for a while. Usually, my nightmares are memories of my time in Afghanistan. Last night, I was back there. But instead of Andrew under that beam calling my name and begging me for help, it was you.

Sherlock just stared at him, not responding.

"I couldn't get to you as hard as I tried," John said, sadly, feeling every bit of pain from the night before, "Every step I took put you yards away…When the roof collapsed, I wished in that moment I'd been crushed as well…With Andrew, I never felt that, Sherlock," he said, tears gathering in his eyes, "with Andrew dying, whether the real thing or the continuous nightmares, I never wanted to die at the loss of him…It was so different with you."

He felt the single tear slip down his face. Before he could reach up to wipe it away, Sherlock was on his knees in front of him, his big thumb wiping the wetness away. John looked in Sherlock's eyes. What he'd wanted to see the night before was there now.

"Why were you so frightened when I walked in the room?" Sherlock asked quietly, his other hand sliding up to John's face to wipe away another tear.

"Because I was afraid you'd not believe me if I told you I thought I was falling in love with you," John said softly.

Sherlock leaned in and kissed him. The tenderness and comfort that John had needed the night before were in that kiss, but just below the surface, he could feel the contained passion. John kissed him back fervently, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's neck. Sherlock groaned and John took advantage and darted his tongue into Sherlock's mouth. Suddenly, the dam burst and every ounce of passion and lust Sherlock felt came flowing out to John. Sherlock pulled John down onto the floor with him. John found himself sprawled across his roommate, their erections pressing tightly against each other.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Both men paused in their kissing, hands still fervently searching each other.

"Sherlock, Doctor Watson," Mrs. Hudson said from the doorway, "that nice Detective Inspector is downstairs. He said he needs to talk to you.

Sherlock smirked at John. John smiled at Sherlock. They both looked at Mrs. Hudson and grinned. Mrs. Hudson smiled back, happy that her boys had finally made up.

"We'll be right there, Mrs. Hudson," John smiled.

She nodded and left. John looked down in Sherlock's face with a cheeky grin.

"Well, people will talk now."

"Obviously," Sherlock returned, "but now it won't be just rumor!"

John just laughed, leaned down for another quick kiss and moved to roll away.

Sherlock rolled with him, holding John to him.

"John-"he started to say.

"Sherlock," John interrupted, "You don't have to say it. I know."

Sherlock just smirked and nodded as he allowed John to pull himself up off the floor.

"Come, John," Sherlock said as he bounced up onto his feet effortlessly, "Seems the game is afoot!"

John shook his head and laughed again, "What does that even mean?"

Sherlock just chuckled and headed down the stair to Lestrade's car, John close at his heels.

Keep an eye out...more Johnlock to come! Again, thanks for reading...please leave a review/comment to let me know what you thought!