imagine if you were born with the knowledge of your soulmate’s name but it was a really common name like chris
sherlock’s constantly annoyed that his soulmate has one of the most common names on earth
john’s annoyed because how is he ever going to find someone named sherlock?
“Do you know how many men are named ‘John’, Mycroft?”
"Do you honestly think ‘Greg’ is any easier to find?”
“The name’s Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street. Afternoon.”
John’s heart stopped as the man ducked out of the room and all he could do was turn and look helplessly at Stamford. The man gave him an understanding smile, no doubt thinking that it was the deductions that had stunned him. It wasn’t. Rather, it was hearing his soulmate’s name for the first time in his life.
The name had been imprinted on his soul since birth, his other half, but he had despaired of ever meeting someone with such an uncommon name. But now that he’d met one, he was reminded that not all soulmates ended up together, and even then, not always romantically. John Watson was a visibly aging, war-damaged doctor with no prospects. And Sherlock Holmes was a brilliant, gorgeous man who, judging by the suit he’d been wearing, still had everything going for him. Even if they were soulmates, what chance did he have?
~X~
Sherlock had kept track of every single ‘John’ he’d ever met, apparently subconsciously because he’s tried to delete the knowledge of each one of them. All 163. And John Watson made 164. There was no reason to suspect that this John would be any different.
Until a week had gone by. John had complimented him, called him ‘brilliant’, ‘amazing’, ‘fantastic’. Had killed someone to save him from himself. Only complained about his experiments and and spare corpse parts when they threatened to contaminate their food. Nothing that any John had ever done for him before. Nothing that any anyone had ever done for him before. So now… What was the protocol on asking a friend what their soulmate’s name is? And if the name on John’s soul was his, what were the chances that would John answer truthfully?
~X~
“You idiot,” John murmured at his unconscious friend. The git had become comatose after a suspect’s daughter had hit him in the head with a frying pan after being on the receiving end of some rather painful deductions. They were approaching 32 hours of non-responsiveness, all of which the blogger had remained stationed at his detective’s bedside. “Maybe next time you’ll pay attention when I try to tell you to stop while you’re ahead.”
He sighed and hung his head, raising his interlaced fingers to rest his forehead on them. “Not that I want you to stop deducing. Even after living with you for the past few months, it still blows me away to hear you what you do. It’s… amazing. It truly is… amazing” John gave another sigh, closely followed by a frustrated sound as he sat back heavily in the uncomfortable chair.
“I think you’re my soulmate,” he said suddenly, unable to take his eyes from Sherlock’s face. “I mean, the name of my soulmate is ‘Sherlock’, and besides you being the only ‘Sherlock’ I’ve ever met, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I’m not gay but you’ve still managed to make me fall for you anyway, you preposterous peacock. Even so…” John broke off, finally turning his gaze away to dart towards the door, feeling incredibly vulnerable and wary of hospital staff breaking into the moment. He licked his lips and dropped his gaze down to his fingers before continuing, unable to even look his unconscious friend in the face as he spoke. “I can’t really believe that the name on my soul belongs to you because I know the name on your soul isn’t mine. I imagine it’s probably Moriarty’s. Or The Woman’s. They suit you far better than I ever could and it shows. You were never so… interested than when you were working their cases.”
Abruptly, John gave a small cough and rolled his shoulders as he stood up. The room’s air felt unnaturally heavy now, charged with his revelation. “I’m going to go now. I haven’t slept since before my idiot of a best friend caught wind of this case. I just… I didn’t think I would ever get another chance to confess and I certainly wasn’t going to do it while you were conscious. Okay. I’m leaving now. I’ll be back in a few hours.” He nodded once and then started towards the door.
~X~
“John.” His voice was uncommonly weak, despite his propensity for not talking in large chunks of time. He must have been unconscious for some time. Still, his doctor, one are raised to push open the door, froze in his tracks before turning around.
“Sherlock?” The relief on the ex-soldier’s face was blatant in every wrinkle and he was at Sherlock’s side in seconds. “How does everything feel?” The detective ignored his question.
“Come here,” he whispered, both because it would make the other man bend low and because his throat really wasn’t cooperating with him at the moment. Overall, it had the desired effect as John leaned over him, ducking to put his ear near Sherlock’s mouth. Before he got there, the detective turned his head to intercept, pressing his lips against his soulmate’s. Seems he wouldn’t have to ask John what the name on his soul was after all.
The kiss was simple, just lips on lips, and after a moment, he pulled away to rest his head back on his pillow. John’s eyes were comically wide and his head hadn’t moved. And he appeared to not be breathing.
“The name on my soul is ‘John’.” He suspected that, if his heart rate monitor had been on John’s fingertip rather than his own, it would be beeping quite intensely right now. There was a quiet moment before his blogger moved, blue eyes turning towards him. As tan cheeks darkened and pink lips spread in a brilliant smile, Sherlock thought it was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.
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