Disclaimer: My initials are not BBC, so it looks like these characters aren't mine…but John could be mine, if he wanted to. :-)
For a moment, John stood frozen. He felt like he couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
Then he ran. He ran harder than he ever had before in his entire life.
Straight out of the alley and across the middle of the street. Cars screeched and honked, a few narrowly avoiding him. He didn't blink. Continued on, flying down street corners and across sidewalks. His heart was bursting in his chest and he felt like he might have a heart attack. It was so dark that he could barely see in front of him and he worried that he might be going the entirely wrong direction.
But he still didn't stop.
It was a rare event when Sherlock Holmes actually slept. Not as rare as John liked to exaggerate it to be, but he certainly never shut down in a normal pattern like most of society did. He was perfectly fine going days without sleep. It wasn't like it was something out of the ordinary for him…he had been since practically childhood. He had never understood why everyone in his life always seemed to make it out to be such a big deal out of it. He had survived perfectly well up until then, hadn't he?
Still, as much as he loathed it, Sherlock's body unfortunately would never be at the same speed as his intellectual ability no matter how hard he tried to condition it to be. So, yes, he did eventually have to sleep.
That night was one such occasion. He had just finished a 3-day stint without sleeping, devoting the energy instead to solving what John had jokingly titled "The Case of the Dumped Detective." Sherlock failed to see the humor in it….he certainly hadn't intended to fall ass over heels into that full garbage bin he had been standing on while examining fingerprints on a window ledge above it. He still didn't understand why everyone down at the Yard only talked about that aspect of the investigation instead of the brilliant leap of logic it had taken him to solve the case.
The point was, he was sleeping. Blissfully. Dead to the world and completely devoid of concern about it or anything in it and had been that way for several hours.
And then the elephant came crashing through the front door of the flat.
Seriously. He could think of no better explanation for the explosion of noise that rocketed him out of sleep and into the world of the living like a cannon shot. He bolted upright, hearing crashes and heavy stomps through the bedroom door.
The very next thought in his mind was an incredulous "seriously?" Huffing in annoyance, Sherlock slid his feet to the floor and grabbed the gun he kept stashed under his mattress. Someone was actually stupid enough to try and break into the flat of Sherlock Holmes?
He pushed open the bedroom door and aimed.
It was also a rare event when Sherlock Holmes was shocked by something. As he immediately lowered the weapon, he had to admit to himself that's exactly what he was and could for a moment only gape.
Several hours ago he had watched John practically fall asleep in his chair, tell him goodnight, and walk upstairs in sweats. He had heard John wind his alarm clock exactly six times to wake him the next morning and climb into bed, mattress springs squeaking like usual above the sitting room.
At that moment, the very same man that should have been for all intents and purposes snoring and drooling into his pillow was thundering through the sitting room like the devil was on his heels, his pupils blown wide and wheezing in breaths.
"Fuck," he was gasping. "Fucking mother fucking fuck!"
He barreled across the room, right past Sherlock without seeming to even notice him, and over to the kitchen window to look out of it. Sherlock took in the dark jeans, work boots, and hooded sweatshirt John was wearing, none of which he had seen before.
John whipped back around and across the room again, this time to the opposite windows. "Jesus, Mary and Christ," he went on breathlessly. He lifted one of the curtains and looked out, eyes roaming around outside wildly.
He turned to the side and bowed his head, arm outstretched to the wall and still holding the curtain, and almost hyperventilated as he breathed. Sherlock's breath caught when he saw a giant gaping tear at the left side of John's sweatshirt stained dark with blood.
"John," he said sharply. He set the gun down on the floor almost as an afterthought, closing the distance between them in a few giant strides. He gripped the man's shoulder, rougher than necessary without realizing it in his haste. "What in the-"
"Fuck!" John yelled, turning his head to look at Sherlock. Sherlock nearly choked in surprise, the man's face was so ghostly white. With alarming strength, John all of the sudden was gripping his arm and dragging him back toward the foyer. "Get away, fuck, get the fuck away from the window!"
He started hyperventilating again. He was still gripping Sherlock's arm and Jesus, Sherlock realized John was shaking, he was shaking like he had lost control of his synapses and that was enough. Sherlock pulled his arm out of John's vice hold and crowded the other man's space, reaching out to clamp both hands on John's shoulders to force him still.
"John!" he practically barked. His friend's eyes flew to his like they had a mind of their own and Sherlock was horrified to see the absolute bleakness in them. A million questions whirled in his head but only one made it out. "What the hell is going on?"
John's hands flew down to grip both of his arms and Sherlock could feel him clinging, clinging to him like he was terrified of falling off his feet. He gasped and wheezed and swallowed continuously as if holding back puke.
"Sherlock," John choked, holding on for dear life. "Sherlock-"
His face twisted for one horrible moment like he was about to burst into tears and all of the sudden he looked like a terrified little boy that Sherlock didn't recognize. Sherlock felt himself grow cold with abrupt dread as he felt the shoulders under his hands start shaking again.
"I killed someone," John gasped out. He started wheezing again in panic. "Sherlock….I just fucking killed someone!"