As It Should Be

Chapter 1

Sherlock didn't intend for it to seem like a date. He'd only met John that morning, and besides, he wasn't particularly interested in becoming involved with a potential new flatmate. He'd learnt that harsh reality within the walls he previously dwelt. He'd moved in with an old classmate. They'd both just finished their PhD's, and although they'd barely spoken two words to each other throughout their time at University, they both came to be in need of a flatmate at the same time, and well, lets just say it didn't end well, hence the search for a new flatmate. Hence the need for John.

It didn't help that the restaurant owner brought over a candle to make it 'more romantic' and insisted on calling John his date. It wasn't completely out of left field for this man to assume John was Sherlock's date. It was clear that both men were new to each other, both a similar age, unmarried and seemingly nervous. Anyone could have made such a deduction. Although Sherlock had doubts someone as ordinary as the restaurant owner had noticed all this. Instead, it was more likely, simply due to the fact that Sherlock had taken many previous dates to this exact spot. Well, by many, he really only means two. His ex flatmate - turn relationship - turn bitter exes, and of course his old University boyfriend, James, who he had been with for 3 years during university and then off and on again since. Sherlock would see him any time James came back to London. He'd come for business, just for a weekend, for weeks at a time to see family, or even for months at a time when he decided to stop travelling round the world and decided he 'wanted to settle down'. They'd fit back into each others lives as if they'd never been apart, their hearts beating to the same rhythm, their steps working like clockwork in the same direction, it all seeming too good to be true, until one day Sherlock wakes up to a cold empty bed, and a note from James saying he had been offered a job he couldn't refuse, with some form of a promise he'd be back, like his scarf still hanging on the end of Sherlock's bed, or a necklace left on the sink in the bathroom.

However, there was one thing this generous restaurant owner had missed, a deduction clear as day, as obvious as anything. And that was that John Watson was very clearly straight.

John was raised in an old fashioned household, that was clear to Sherlock, with parents who shared the same archaic beliefs on homosexuality and masculinity as Sherlock's own. This was clear in his sisters drinking habits, and in John's gait, as well as the length of his nails and eyebrows, but that's just showing off. And of course being a military man, despite the lengths he went through to lose his prejudices after his sister came out, there are some slivers of it left, that reared their ugly head in the way he was so insistent on denying the idea that he could ever be Sherlock's date. The resentment of the accusation said a lot. Even the way he deems it necessary to remind Sherlock that it is 'fine' to be gay, as if he needed John permission. Sherlock enjoyed mocking John for this, playing with him and pushing him, to watch him fumble over his words when Sherlock pretended to take Johns comments as flirtation and rejected him saying he was in fact 'married to his work'. This wasn't a lie, though, since his last relationship ended so messily he thought it best to avoid men for now. It also proved helpful in avoiding drugs, if he was to focus completely on work instead. Besides, a murder mystery was far more interesting than a relationship, although it could be argued to be less emotionally fulfilling. Though, it best not to ponder on that for too long, really.

John, it turned out, was a great flatmate, and not half as homophobic as Sherlock had taken him for. Over time John even came to find it humorous that the press were so intent that their relationship was anything more than platonic. He laughed one day, as he read the paper, that had expressly concluded that Sherlock had left John broken hearted when he was caught by fans on a date with another man. "I don't think its fair that you'd break my heart, surely it should be the other way round."

"How so?" Sherlock responded, dropping his bow midway through writing a new symphony.

"Well, I'm getting bloody married next week."

Sherlock laughed. "Yes, you're right, that would be something I'd be quite upset about were we in a relationship. But who knows, perhaps we could work through it. It would be awfully modern." Sherlock joked.

"Oh I don't think so Sherlock, I'm afraid to say, even if I was gay, I don't think you'd be my type."

"Oh and what exactly would be your type?" Sherlock replied, mentally noting that this off hand comment had hurt him more than he had been prepared for.

John paused a moment. "Someone shorter." They both laughed.

"Well, if you aim to be the taller half of the relationship it's a good thing you are solely interested in women."

"Yes well... From what I've seen I'm not exactly your type either, so maybe its for the best we aren't together." John was right. He really wasn't Sherlock's type. Not normally. Even when they first met, Sherlock felt sure there was no way he would ever have any kind of feelings towards John. But he was wrong. Over the years they spent together, Sherlock had grown rather fond of John. And in the right lighting, in certain states of disorientation, Sherlock might even admit he had fallen in love with him. He would never admit this to John, despite it being obvious to nearly everyone else around them. He hadn't admitted it to anyone really. Well, only one person, but she didn't really count, because she was, supposedly, dead. It was Irene Adler. The woman. A person he found objectively both beautiful and charismatic. Despite the innate lack of sexual connection between them both, due, of course, to their shared homosexuality, Sherlock felt a bond with her he'd never really felt before. He thought, at first, that it was love. He even told her this. And she just shook her head and said "No Sherlock. You're in love with John." And it was the first time he had acknowledged the assumption. It was the only time he had replied "Yes. I am." It turned out, actually, that the feelings he had toward Irene Adler were, well, friendship. Something he was not so used to.

John, however, also mistook his connection to Irene as one of love. Sherlock didn't dare deny it. He had to bite his tongue, to stop himself saying the words he knew he could never take back. Five words that would change everything. "It's not her, it's you." But there was no use for this. For confessions of love or longing. Because John was straight. And besides, he was the only friend he had that didn't have to evade the government, so he didn't really want to lose him. Instead he just distanced himself from him. Not physically. They still worked together, and up until the day on the roof with Moriarty, they had still lived together. It wasn't the physical closeness that was the problem. So instead he just avoided emotion all together. It came easy for Sherlock to avoid emotion. He had convinced himself and those around him that he was, in fact, a sociopath, with little human emotion. This, of course, was a lie. Mycroft knew this. His parents knew this. Hell, even he knew this, deep down. But sometimes lies are more convenient than the truth. Sometimes lies are more comfortable.

But, after two years of pretending to be dead, John had moved on. And Sherlock was happy for him. He knew John would be able to live a better, normal life, without him. It's why he let him go, didn't tell him he was alive. He wanted John to design a life, a good life, that Sherlock couldn't intrude even if he tried. And he had been so successful. Sherlock even loved the wife he chose, even more so after she shot him. But the flat felt so empty without John. So quiet. So cold. So... boring.

It was the night of John's wedding that things started going bad. He would never admit this to John. He wouldn't let him know the pain he was in, on the happiest day of John's life. Well, factually, the pain he was in BECAUSE of the happiest day of John's life. In the cab on the way back to the flat he called James. He knew he was around, he'd been liking Sherlock's tweets. That always meant something. Before the time John and Mary had finished celebrating their big day, Sherlock was half naked, his hair a mess of intimacy, and a needle being delicately inserted into his arm by his ex boyfriend.