John stared at Sherlock, his expression twitching between horror and reluctant understanding. "...Do you expect it to get to that point?" He said softly, still unable to quite swallow the idea of killing his best friend and lover.
Sherlock took a seat on the bed, steepling his fingertips against his chin. "I don't know. I feel fine for now but at the time, the urge was very great. I had no idea I was capable of such jealous feelings or irrational behavior and yet I could have snapped your neck in a moment of ecstasy and have found the whole experience cathartic rather than horrific."
Sherlock wasn't so wrapped up in his own thoughts to ignore the signs John was giving off as to his displeasure. If Sherlock had thought the idea would be an easy one to accept, he wouldn't have felt the need to spell out what had to be done. John, when not biting and scratching at his skin, was a gentle man who avoided confrontation with him when possible. And most certainly violence.
Sherlock rubbed at the marks on his neck and shoulder.
no subject
no subject
Sherlock wasn't so wrapped up in his own thoughts to ignore the signs John was giving off as to his displeasure. If Sherlock had thought the idea would be an easy one to accept, he wouldn't have felt the need to spell out what had to be done. John, when not biting and scratching at his skin, was a gentle man who avoided confrontation with him when possible. And most certainly violence.
Sherlock rubbed at the marks on his neck and shoulder.