After Sherlock’s death, there times when John just had to see it. See it with his own eyes.
See exactly what Sherlock had seen in those last few minutes.
Feel the twinge in the ankles and knees and gut that came with staring down several storeys and looking at a spot on the pavement that would be the last thing you ever touched.
Could be the last thing. Might still be.
He’d come up to the rooftop at Bart’s again. Third time in as many weeks.
Slowly, John stepped up onto the ledge and kept his eyes fixed on the pavement below.
Keep your eyes fixed on me.
He took a small, phantom step forward, letting his foot hover in the empty space for a moment.
“That’s a spectacularly bad idead, pal,” a calm, American voice spoke from behind his left shoulder.
“Jesus!” John pitched forward with a start, but a pair of taut, muscular arms grabbed him around the waist and chest and pulled him backward off of the raised ledge.
OHHHH….. I’m loving it immensely!!! Valeria, you are officially a genius and my hero!!! John and Clint feels sooo good ;)))
Hands grabbing and face punching ;) my favourite kind of foreplay…
THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!
More soon? Please?