I don't own Sherlock (obviously) and this fic has lots of feels and Johnlock (can't help myself). Hope you like it, and please review- I love hearing your opinions!
It had been another long, taxing day for John Watson. He was woken up at 4:30 and dragged to a crime scene, half asleep. After it was solved, he tried to have a nice breakfast. Unfortunately, he was kicked out mid-meal because his "boyfriend" (not gay, mind you) had told the manager that his restaurant does not follow the health regulations and that his daughter was pregnant, quite rudely. To top it all off, Sherlock made John's date run out of the flat in tears because he deduced that her father was having an affair and that her mom would die in 4 years. John was in a horrible mood, and Sherlock was completely oblivious.
Sherlock's phone went off, and he checked his text.
"John, there's been a murder at a pub a few towns down. Come on, let's-" Sherlock was cut off by John's voice, steely and quiet.
"No."
Sherlock looked taken aback and confused.
"But someo-"
"No."
"What? Are you feeling alright?" Sherlock asked, puzzled. "I said there was a murder-"
John slammed his laptop shut and glared at Sherlock.
"I don't bloody care it there's been a murder!" John yelled. Sherlock's eyes widened at the sudden outburst. "I have had a horrible day, thanks to you! First, you wake me up at bloody four o'clock in the morning and drag me to a crime scene!"
"It was a brilliant homicide-" Sherlock tried to interject.
"I DON'T CARE! And don't you dare try to interrupt me!" John yelled, angrily. Sherlock, for the first time in his life, was subdued into silence.
"Then, when I am trying to have a decent breakfast for once, you get us kicked out of the restaurant for being an arsehole. A complete and utter arsehole. And then, you ruin my date by making Rebecca cry, telling her that her mother WAS GOING TO DIE! Who the hell does that?" John was the angriest Sherlock had ever seen him.
"I was just trying to warn her in advance. It was just a helpful notification," Sherlock pointed out, still quite oblivious to his wrongdoings.
"How dense are you?" John asked angrily.
"Actually, I have a rather high IQ. I'm surprised you didn't recognize that, being a doctor and all," Sherlock said.
Those words finally pushed John over the limit, and his anger overflowed. "Oh my GOD! You are so rude, oblivious, and such a dickhead! I go to all your crime scenes, buy the food, clean the flat, and put up with your experiments because I care about you. But do you care about me? NO! YOU BLOODY DON'T! All you do is make rude deductions, put me in dangerous situations, and ruin my social life because I always have to apologize for your behavior! Can't you see how rude you are to everyone, especially me? Or not, because you are are a bloody FREAK!" John screamed at the top of his lungs, years worth of anger boiling over.
Sherlock's mouth drops open, eyes full of pain at John's words. He had tried so hard to make a friend, just one person who didn't think he was a freak. He thought John was the one, but he was apparently wrong. The pain of being hated by someone he loves dearly was a stab through his heart, a sharp dagger. He didn't know that he was that way to John. He honestly was trying to help with his deductions, just his sociopathic nature made them blunt and rude. He was blind to this until the word "freak", the word he had been ridiculed with his entire life, came out of John's mouth, laced with hatred and disgust.
John's face went pale white when he saw the raw pain in his friend's eyes. A pain that he caused. Through his anger, he had hurt his friend. He was blinded by years of bottled up emotions, and said something he know wasn't true. That his friend, his favorite person in the world, was a freak to him.
Sherlock, unable to look John in the eyes, mumbled "I'm going to a crime scene,". He jumped out of his chair, and walked quickly out of the room, averting his eyes, fighting a sudden wave of emotion.
John started to run after Sherlock. "Wait, Sherlock, w-wait, please," he said, stuttering, words being cut off with shock and guilt. His stomach churned- how dare he do that to his best friend? He probably thinks I hate him!
Sherlock yanked on his famous trench coat and quickly knotted his scarf, ignoring John. He ran down the stairs, John stumbling after him.
"Sherlock, wait, please-" Sherlock reached the door frame and placed his hand on the knob, turned it, and almost walked out the door. He was stopped by John, holding a firm grip on his sleeve.
John spun Sherlock around to face him. "Sherlock, please listen to me. I didn't mean it, I really didn't-" He cuts off when he sees a single, glistening tear roll down Sherlock's pale face.
"Oh, Sherlock, oh my god-" John fiercely wrapped his arms around Sherlock. It was this action, being wrapped up in John's strong arms, that causes the wall in Sherlock to break. The wall he built between himself and his emotions, to avoid being hurt. It, after many years, has finally broke.
Sherlock sank to the floor in John's arms, sobbing violently into John's shoulder. He buried his face in John's jumper, shaking. John held the detective tightly, rubbing his back soothingly. Between sobs, Sherlock managed to choke out, "I'm so sor-rry Joh-hn. I di-didn't know th-hat I made you so-o angry,".
John shushed him, whispering, "It's alright love, just get it all out." He sighed deeply, stomach hurting with absolute guilt. "I'm so sorry that I yelled at you. I lost my temper and said stuff I didn't mean. I don't think you are a freak, at all. I just wish you would think about me and other people a little bit more, rather than yourself. But don't think for one second that I hate you or think you are a freak," John said quietly.
Sherlock's tears soaked John's jumper, and after a few minutes his sobs turned into sniffles, and his breathing evened out. Sherlock sat up, rubbing at his eyes, swollen and puffy. "I'm sorry, John," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't mean to be such an arsehole all the time. I try to help with my deductions, but i state them ruder than I should. I don't try to make you angry. I just don't think before I say. I have a hard time with emotions and I don't know how to handle them. But I honestly try my hardest to be the best I can be to you, because you are the only person I've ever met that has been nice to me everyday, even when I am annoying. I do care, John, more than you know. I try, because- I lo-love you," he says, color flushing his pale face at his last words, hands nervously twisting the edge of his coat. He had never spoken about his emotions to someone before, and much less told someone that he loved them. Sherlock had always felt a tug towards John- it sat in his chest every day- but it was in that moment that it hit him clearly: He loved John Watson.
John, moved by Sherlock's words, felt a tear of his own sliding down his cheek. He had never expected that Sherlock, the sociopath with seemingly no emotions, would feel this strongly for him. "I'm sorry too. You are the best person I have ever met, and you have saved me from a darkness that almost took over my life. And Sherlock- I love you too," A shy smile spread across his face, for he too had hidden his feelings towards his friend.
Sherlock looks up at John, with shining eyes, face bright with hope and happiness. "Y-you love me?" He never imagined that someone would choose to love him, that they would want to be with him.
"Of course I do. Why wouldn't I? I love you, Sherlock Holmes." Those words, along with the pure joy that shone out of Sherlock's face, filled John with a warm happiness that he had not felt in a long time.
e Sherlock enveloped John in a hug of his own and whispered in his ear, "Thank you for being the only person that loves me for who I am," with now a tear of happiness, not pain, slipping down his face. The two men, alone for so long, had found love in one another.