Four Funerals and a Wedding

The story of John and Sherlock or Nothing worth having is ever easy.
John fit himself neatly into Sherlock, his arm curving over his back, his hand tucked warmly under Sherlock’s body. John thought Sherlock had fallen asleep when the feather-light breath of Sherlock’s whisper drifted across his skin, “Stay with me.”
John understood then that Sherlock had always been there, in the corner of his mind, in the tracks of his memory, right there close enough to touch. He held onto him, trying hard to steady his voice. “Where else would I go?”