Fic: Heroes do exist

[bradspyjamas]

Title: Heroes do exist
Rating: Teen and up
Tags: Johnlock, fluff, happy endings, 
Disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to the BBC, Moffat and Gatiss - I'm just borrowing it for fun. No copyright infringement intended.
Summary: Sherlock has second thoughts about what he said about heroes and, more to the point, who he said it to.
Authors Notes: Today is Armed Forces Day in the UK, so this is dedicated to all the people who, like John Watson, serve or have served my country by doing the job that is in front of them.
This was inspired by "Heroes" - a blog post from my friend Kiz.

They were lying in bed in a mess of twisted sheets and limbs, breathing still erratic as they drifted on a cloud of endorphins. Eventually Sherlock moved, shifting away and propping himself up on his side so he could look at John properly.

“You alright?” John asked, turning his head and smiling up at Sherlock.

He didn’t answer, instead lowering his head to John’s scar and pressing feather-light kisses across the damaged skin. Once he was satisfied that he’d covered every millimetre he pulled back and began tracing it with his finger.

“I’m sorry, John.” His voice was low, husky and when he met John’s eyes, John could see the anxiety in them.

“Hey now, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t shoot me.” John caught Sherlock’s hand and brought it to his mouth to kiss, lips tickling Sherlock’s palm as he added, “And I may not like it but getting wounded is an occupational hazard for a soldier. It’s not like I didn’t know what I was getting into when I joined up.”

Sherlock made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a snort. “And that is exactly why my apology was necessary.”

John blinked, “What?”

“You really have no idea how special you are, do you?” Sherlock said abruptly, using their joined hands to stroke John’s face. “You didn’t even correct me when I said it.”

“I really don’t understand, Sherlock,” John was frowning now, totally confused. “When you said what?”

Sherlock closed his eyes briefly, jaw tight as he swallowed, once, twice and then spoke, “Don’t make people into heroes, John. They don’t exist.”

John stared at Sherlock, shocked at the level of derision and disgust in his voice. With everything else that had happened in the past couple of days he’d all but forgotten that bit of their argument.  The realisation that not only had Sherlock retained it but was upset that he had said it at all sent John’s mind into freefall. There were so many things he wanted to ask but all he managed was a breathy “Sherlock?”

“To have said that.  To a soldier.  To you!” He shook his head, contrition in every line of his body.  “I was wrong, John. Completely and utterly wrong.  There are heroes and you’re one of them.”

“You ridiculous, wonderful man,” John squeezed Sherlock’s hand before letting go and brushing his thumb along Sherlock’s jaw. “It’s a lovely notion but I’m really not. I was just doing my job, along with everybody else.”

“Exactly,” Sherlock was emphatic; fingers back on John’s scar tissue, circling agitatedly, “you did the job that was in front of you despite knowing what could happen, despite the hardships and the fear. You ... you looked death in the face and just got on with it. To me that’s the definition of a hero.”

For a long moment they just stared at each other, Sherlock’s pulse strumming hard in his neck under John’s hand. Then Sherlock took a shaky breath and said, with only the merest hint of a tremor,

“John Watson, regardless of what you think, you are a hero. You are my hero and I intend to remind you of that every day ... for as long as you’ll have me.”

“I ... Oh Sherlock, come here,” John said, voice thick as he tugged Sherlock’s face down to his own, kissing him with a fervour that left them both breathless when they finally broke apart. 

“My hero,” Sherlock murmured against John’s lips, “Mine.”

“Yours,” John agreed, “Forever.”