It's the moment of truth and the moment to lie

The moment to live and the moment to die

The moment to fight, the moment to fight

-This is War (30 Seconds to Mars)

John was going back. Back to what?-The army. Sherlock felt as if he was stunned into silence at those words. The man had been distant for the past couple days. Why hadn't he seen it sooner? As he sat on the edge of his bed with the moon shining through the window he put a hand over his mouth. How could he be so stupid?

Lately he had been feeling things slip past his ever constant vision, especially when he was around his flat mate. It was inexcusable in his eyes. But the nagging feeling of a heavy weight, when there was nothing there whatsoever, on his chest was there from the moment that John had sat him down to tell him the news of him getting called back to Afghanistan.

Those usually warm brown eyes had no expression or emotion to them, just as they did when he had first met him when he had the limp. John's clothes had been rumpled and he smelled like he hadn't taken a shower for a couple days. His blonde hair seemed lifeless. Then the news had slipped from the man's mouth as if it was a death sentence.

"Damn the war," Sherlock said to himself in the dark room.

His gaze flickered to the clock next to his bed. 3:42. He should be sleeping or at least lying down. Only moments before he had been but the pressure on his chest had gotten too much for him.

Mouth opening slightly he went over things in his head, from how he felt around John, the odd happenings on how his brain would just stop when the man walked past him and waft a scent he couldn't lay his finger on, to how he was still on his mind when he wasn't around.

Sherlock put a finger or two over his mouth, one tapping out a steady pace as he threaded those things together.

4:39 was when he next glanced over at the clock; all that time and he had come up with nothing. Sherlock knew he had to dig deeper to find the root cause of how he was feeling this way. His eyes closed and the reality of the room surrounding him dissolved.

When he surfaced he had come to his conclusion. It all fit together. He was madly in love with John. It all felt like out of some romance novel that Molly read when she read when she thought that he wasn't paying attention (but he always was, taking everything in that she did and said to catalogue it away to use when the time came) with the fluttery feeling in his stomach as he finally acknowledge the thing he had known for a very long time.

Love; that was one thing he had never truly believed in even when he had seen it up close. But now, just possibly, it could be there. The word felt foreign in his mind and he had a childish impulse to force it out as he had done with the rest of his emotions as a young child.

But that wouldn't work this time.

The weeks following his ultimate decision he was kind to John, which got him odd looks from the man as if he didn't trust anything that Sherlock did (which was in good conscious since the last time he trusted Sherlock he had been a part of an experiment with possibly hallucinogenic sugar without even knowing).

Sherlock was prepared when the time came for John to leave in the army uniform that fit him well, showing that he was still quite muscular for not doing much except for running around when on cases. The taller man had accompanied him to the airport where he would be getting on a plane.

"I'll see you when I get back," John said, an almost detached tone in his voice. "Remember to eat and sleep. And no smoking because Mrs. Hudson will tell me if she catches you at it again, understand?"

"This is the third time you've told me this," Sherlock snapped, sounding just as he always did. "I'm not three so I hear you the first time."

John rolled his eyes, forcing back a small smile that made his lips twitch. He bent over slightly to pick up his suitcase that held the few things he would need while he was in Afghanistan. As he turned Sherlock realized that it was now or never.

In a way that was very unlike him, he grasped John's forearm to pull him back so they were facing each other. The soldier's face showed the shock. With zero hesitation Sherlock leaned his head down and pressed his lips to John's. All he could do was pray that he was doing the right thing. After a few moments he pulled away to look at John's still shocked face.

Sherlock immediately saw that he had done something wrong. Breathing in sharply, as he did when he knew he had made a mistake, he murmured, "Stay safe," and murmured, leaving John there in that state of shock. Soon he was in a cab that was taking him back to 221B Baker Street where Mrs. Hudson would be crying and trying to cover it up horribly. It was back to him being the one and only.

The months without John had passed slowly with him taking on as many cases as he could handle with barely any food or sleep. Sherlock had been deteriorating slowly. Finally he had gotten something from John that only said he was coming back with a date attached and that he would like him to meet him at the airport.

Sherlock prepared himself for the first meeting after his mistake with kissing the man.

When the date arrived he showed up wearing his usual suit, minus a tie or bowtie of course, and waited where John's luggage would end up being. There were many wives and husbands hanging around with children that were running around. His height came as an advantage for once; he towered over them, making it easy to be able to spot John.

The people that had been aboard the plane came in. There were tearful reunions all around him of husbands picking up their wives as she cried into his shoulder and the children pulled at their clothing. Over all that he couldn't see John.

Doubt filled him up until he felt a strong and firm hand grasp the front of his shirt to pull him down. Lips pressed against his that were soft but slightly chapped. Tentatively Sherlock moved his hand to thread through the hair. That familiar smell surrounded him.

John.

After a few moments of the lips against his he pulled away, his mouth open slightly as he looked at the very tan man in front of him. From that single kiss he understood everything he needed to. A small smile came across his face and John matched it easily.

"I stayed safe."

"Glad."

John rolled his eyes and reached down to take Sherlock's hand in his smaller one. The calluses that were there from working on injured people felt rough against Sherlock's long and smooth hands. John began walking and Sherlock easily caught up. They were walking side by side, hand in hand, as if this was nothing new.

It was a new start from that one goodbye.

I hope that you see right through my walls

I hope that you catch me 'cause I'm already falling

I'll never let a love get so close

You put your arms around me and I'm home

-Arms (Christina Perri)

A/N

Another little thing I threw together just so I will have published something for you guys who regularly read my work. I'd like to say thank you to Danielle who read it before I put it up.

The songs I used as quotes at the beginning and end inspired me so you should totally look them up and love them.

Thank you to you who read it down to here as well! Please review because I do enjoy getting them.

And I do not own these characters, or songs, no matter how much I wish I did.