New Blog Who Dis

“a proper, manly embrace.”

edit:

John didn't take the hand. He just gave Sherlock a pointed look.

Sherlock gulped down his throat and schooled his features, trying to put up his sociopathic front again. "Oh, if we must," he said with feigned exasperation as he spread his arms open a bit.

John stepped forward, placed his arms around Sherlock and was practically clinging to his shoulders. He had placed his head on Sherlock's chest.

Sherlock stood still for a moment in surprise. He then wrapped his arms around John's back as well.

A few seconds passed. Neither of them said a word. For the first time ever since he'd met John, Sherlock felt so daring as to place his chin above John's head.

John was the one to break the silence at last. "Thank you," he said, in a voice that was just above a whisper.

Sherlock furrowed his brow. "What for?"

"Existing."

Sherlock pulled back a little to be able to look at John's face, trying to detect any hint of sarcasm. John looked up at him and the earnestness in his eyes had taken him completely by surprise.

All he could see was vulnerability in those deep blue eyes. Those eyes. The eyes which contained an entire universe in them that Sherlock was yet to unravel.

Why was John thanking him? For saving him from Magnussen? Since when had their friendship been reduced to these painful, formal gestures?

John could never be his; not in the way he'd wanted him to be. The wife standing at some distance from them was a tangible proof for that. But John could've at least spared him the formalities moments before he was about to take off to Serbia.

He couldn't bear to maintain eye contact any longer, so he pulled John close to his chest again.

"You weren't going to make a joke about your name," said John after a moment and Sherlock winced reflexively. "Even I'm not that stupid." His voice was shaking, a bit. It sounded strangely familiar.

"Why would you help me?" Mary had said.

"Because you saved my life," Sherlock had replied.

"What, sorry... what?" John had asked, demanded rather.

That was John's reaction. The vulnerability, the frustration, the tears in his eyes. Sherlock's own agony. He was being reminded of so many unwanted feelings at the same time.

Was John holding back his tears, just like Sherlock had been desperately trying to?

"Say something, Sherlock," John whispered, shaking him out of the trail of his thoughts. "I need to know. What was it that you'd meant to say always but never really had? The real answer, this time."

His insides were burning at this seemingly simple request.

"Don't do this, John," said Sherlock quietly with the unspoken plea evident in his tone.

John pulled away from the embrace but his hands were still placed on Sherlock's forearms. John was looking at him directly in the eye now.

"Please, Sherlock. For me?"

This wasn't fair. He knew what effect those words always had on Sherlock and he'd chosen this exact time to use them. Sherlock screwed his eyes shut.

He opened them again to look at John directly. He took a deep breath and exhaled. "I love you," he said in a low voice.

To his surprise, John's face broke into a smile. The vulnerability had been replaced by relief in his eyes. "I love you too," he whispered.

Sherlock's heart was swelling. He was trying to suppress his grin because they weren't exactly alone at the Tarmac.

"That's all I need to know," said John, squeezing Sherlock's forearms. He dropped his hands to his sides as his expression changed to full determination. "Take me with you, please."

Sherlock knitted his brows. "Your child? And your wife?"

"My marriage with her now exists only because of the baby. And I'm pretty sure everything can be arranged, as far as my daughter is concerned."

"This could be dangerous, John," said Sherlock with a sense of warning in his tone.

"When has that ever put me off?"

"You could die."

"Knowing about the feelings we have for each other and with you at my side? Everything would be worth it," he said and let out a sigh. "Take me." His voice had become all authoritative, now. His quintessential stubbornness, leaving no room for negotiation.

"Well, about the arrangements related to your child; I think Mycroft can make himself useful for once in his life," said Sherlock with a small smile.

John gazed at him with the emotion filled in his eyes that could only be called 'love'.

I made a thing … again (original) (gif)

Not morbid at all! Planning for the future isn’t depressing, it’s planning. Taking care of something that’s on your mind will only make you feel better about things, anyway :)

As for the answer to your question, AO3 has exactly what you’re looking for: Fannish Next of Kin. This is the person that you decide you want to have take care of your works after you die. They’re a fandom friend you trust, but you don’t have to know them in person. You don’t even need to know their real name. You just have to trust that they’ll follow your wishes after you’re gone.  

In the event of your death, the Archive will transfer your account into that person’s control and they can manage it on your behalf.