It had been a long day for our favorite consulting detective. He and John Watson, his faithful doctor and friend, had just returned home from a new crime scene. Sherlock hadn't been feeling himself since the day before. Now he felt down right ill. All he wanted was to lay down on his couch and watch crap telly with John.
However, things between himself and John had been slightly strained since he had returned. Sherlock had spent a year hunting down the member of Moriarty's gang and dispatching them. Now he was home but it didn't quite feel like it yet.
As the came into the flat, Sherlock collapsed onto the couch with a sign. John had expected the detective to immediately start in on figuring out the clues of the case. The fact that he didn't John became a bit worried. Sherlock was just never this still or quiet. The doctor looked his friend over. He seemed a bit paler than usual and his eyes didn't look very focused. John observed Sherlock for a short while longer then came to the conclusion that he need to find out the problem.
"Sherlock, you alright?" This caught the lounging detective off guard. He had not been focused on his surrounding but rather on the suffering of his body. He was freezing. His throat ached with every swallow and his stomach was doing flips. Every muscle hurt as well. "Hm?" glassy eyes looked up at Dr Watson. "What's the matter? You don't look well." Sherlock groaned inwardly. He hated being sick let alone admitting to it. If he told John he didn't feel well the doctor would just fuss over him and not let him do the Work. No, that wasn't acceptable. "I'm fine John."
John knew that wasn't true but he also knew he would get nowhere the way he was going. He'd have to take matters into his own hands. That being decided Dr Watson got up from his chair and approached the couch. Placing a hand on his friend's forehead he crouched down to Sherlock's level. What he felt was alarming, a high temperature with clammy skin. As he looked at Sherlock he could see the tired, unfocused look in his eye. Yes, that confirms it. Sherlock Holmes was ill. Oh boy this was gonna be a hang full!
"You're not fine Sherlock! You're sick. Why didn't you tell me?" John gave the detective his now patented look of disapproval. He waited a few moments for an answer then realizing he probably wasn't going to get one he took action. "Alright that's it. You're going to have a kip and take some paracetamol. Up you get." He reached out to help Sherlock up but was swatted away. "What's your problem?!" "John I am fine. I do not need your fussing." he said with a look of distain he didn't feel. Sherlock would have liked John's assistance but he refused to be barred from The Work and John would only worry about him. He hated it when John worried over his well being especially now that he had caused his only friend's suffering the prior year.
Dr Watson couldn't believe what he was hearing! How could Sherlock be so rude?! He was only trying to help the git! How dare he after all he'd put him through last year! That tears it. John exploded. "What the hell Sherlock?! You're sick! I'm just trying to help you, you callousal git! But NOOOO! The great Sherlock Holmes needs no help! He's an island unto himself. All that matters to him is finding the next puzzle, game, or case to solve. God forbid he think of anyone else! I've had enough Sherlock! I'm tired of your selfishness. You left me fucking alone! You made me think you were dead just so you could go off and play for a year! You absolute arsehole!"
Sherlock gasped. He couldn't believe what was happening. He knew he had upset John but he had never imagined this. How could John think this?! What could he do? How did he fix this?! The detective drew a shaky breathe quickly. "NO! John no! You don't understand! John please!" He felt his eyes begin to sting as he look at his only friend's face. As Sherlock looked at him John saw the despair there and was taken aback. That is not the reaction he was expecting. Now he wanted to know what was causing Sherlock Holmes to show such emotion. What was he missing? There must be something. So he said "What don't I understand Sherlock? Tell me."
The detective found his hands to be shaking as he tried to think how to explain things to John. He tried to calm his breathing and thinking clearly but sentiment was clouding his mind. After a few minutes he heard "Sherlock?" and looked up to find his doctor is his armchair waiting for him to speak. So he steeled his nerves and began. "John there are things that you don't know, that I haven't told you. You are wrong. It was by no means a game to me. I took no pleasure what so ever in what I did. Moriarty was more clever than I gave him credit for. That was my mistake. I regret it immensely. You see, he had snipers on you, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade. He demanded I jump or he would give the command for you all to be shot. I believe that much you know." John interrupted the detective here. "Yes Sherlock I know all this. What I don't get is why you didn't come back right away. Why you didn't let me know immediately that you were alive. That you were ok! Why did you leave me behind?! I could have helped you!"
It was taking great effort for Sherlock to suppress his trembling and hold back his tears. In a shaky voice Sherlock said "John. Please. Let me finish." With and sour look John sat back and went silent, nodding for the detective to continue. "This you do not know however. Moriarty knew me well. He was aware I was capable of fooling his agents with a fake suicide. Therefore he gave the order for the 3 of you to be watched for a time after the events on the roof for any sign that I was still alive. If they had seen the slightest sign of my continued existence you all would have be shot in an instant! I could not risk that! John I could not return here until those minions were dealt with, no matter what. I could not involve you in the hunt. The risk was too great. I would never risk you're safety John. You must know that? John these men were trained by Moriarity himself. No amount of acting talent would have been enough to fool them, John. I could not tell you that I was alive in order to keep you safe. You had to remain alive John! Even if you came to hate me, you must survive! That was the entire point of this entire affair, to keep you…and the others as well, alive. I did wish to return John. I did not want to leave Baker Street but it was necessary. There was no other choice, John. I'm….sorry." As he said this final statement a tear rolled down Sherlock's face. He was trembling visibly now. He silently awaited John's verdict.
John was floored. He had never seen his friend like this before. He'd had no idea off all this just a few moments ago. What did he say to all this? He was overwhelmed. Sherlock had done all of that for him! For him, John Watson! Wait! What should he say? Do? He had to be cautious here. He didn't want to push Sherlock away or scare him but he did want him to know how much this meant to him. Steadying himself John met Sherlock's gaze.
"Sherlock….I..I honestly don't know what to say. I had no idea. I thought you did all this just to keep from being bored. I didn't consider…I'm sorry….I should have thought…" John was having a hard time putting his thoughts into words at the moment. As he looked on tears began to flow freely down his best friend's face. It was heartbreaking. He had to do something. Without a second thought he rose from his chair and went to the detective. He engulfed Sherlock in a strong embrace. "I'm sorry Sherlock. Really. I had no idea." For a moment, the man that had invented the science of deduction was struck dumb. Then he buried his face in his blogger's shoulder and sobbed as he clung to him. An eminence sense of relief washed over Sherlock in that moment. He had not realized how bothered and upset he had been by John's attitude and feelings towards him since he returned. Now it was clear. He sagged into his doctor even more, clinging to him.
John held Sherlock for a few minutes before he spoke again. "Come on. We need to get you to bed and some paracetamol in you. We can't sit here all night" he said with a small chuckle. The response he received was being squeezed slightly and having a face burrow into his neck. Really Sherlock could be such a child some times! "Alright none of that! Up you get." As he said this the doctor easier his friend off him and started to rise from the couch. Wearing a pout Sherlock reluctantly followed suit. "Now go get changed into some warm pjs and get in bed. I'll be there in a minute." The consultant did as he was bid.