A/N: Haven't written anything in English for a while... and... I don't have a beata reader, so if anyone would like to beata read this, I'd be actually pretty grateful, because english isn't my mother language, and I bet I messed up some grammar or tenses... But anyway, I hope you'll enjoy my lil' OS x3
SHERLOCK – A DIFFERENT FALL …
A few weeks ago, during a case, something went terribly wrong.
Sadly, only a bunch of days after John and Sherlock finally got the courage to tell each other what they felt. Love.
Now... Things were difficult.
But John stayed beside the man he loved so much, that he could barely breath.
He took care, and watched after him, which wasn't too easy, because at least, Sherlock was still Sherlock and wouldn't just do what anybody wanted him to. No matter if it was for his own sake, or not.
Sherlock Holmes only did, what Sherlock Holmes wanted to do.
John remembered how hard it was to make Sherlock take the pills he needed.
They had argued for a over an hour.
But luckily the Consulting Detective was still able to work.
Obviously not without John by his side.
But he could work!
And would do nothing but work, for a whole case.
No eating, no drinking, no taking pills, no sweet nights with John.
Nothing.
Well, except his new 'issues'.
Like; having totally insane ideas - "Come on John, we gotta fly over there! I'm sure that roof will help us to find, what the murderer would not like us to find!" - and he was always really serious about these things.
But as long as they were able to keep him from trying anything weird, it was Johns smallest Problem.
Sometimes, they were talking and at some point Sherlock wouldn't answer until hours over hours have passed.
He'd just sit there, with a blank expression on his face.
Even his 'rare' child behaviour had been getting worse. What required John so much strength.
God. John was so grateful he didn't knew Sherlock as a real child.
For Sherlock, the worst thing was, that he became quite forgetful.
Sometimes, he wouldn't know what a pencil was and what you use it for.
Sherlock would search around for something to take notes with for days and be to proud to ask.
He became quite good at searching things without anybody noticing.
He just kept forgetting daily, casual objects, no matter what they tried.
John and Sherlock were both more than just glad, that he never forgot things, which were important for his work.
Sherlock was glad, because he was Sherlock and he needed to work.
And John was glad, because he knew how important work was for Sherlock.
The dark haired one couldn't live without his work.
And John still had no clue what had happened to the man he loved at first sight.
He only knew, that there were drugs involved. Lots of drugs. Moriarty. And a strange group of men, who should be in prison by now. But they weren't.
John sighed and put his laptop away.
He had stopped writing his blog after 'that' case.
So only Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, John, Sherlock himself and Mycroft knew about these problems, which hopefully won't be forever.
No one knew if Moriarty knew, too. But they were sure they'd figure that out, sooner or later. Even if they did not want to.
But Anderson and Sally still had no idea, just as everyone else.
There hadn't been anything that could have made them curious yet.
And that fact, made the rest feel like nothing had changed at all.
But it had. Of curse.
And John hat to realize it every day.
Today too, obviously.
"Sherlock? Would you like some tea?", the blond left the kitchen and stepped in front of his partner, who sat in his favourite armchair and stared into nothing.
No answer.
"I see", John walked back and grabbed his odd mug only.
It hurts him to see Sherlock like this.
It was as if someone stabbed his bleeding heart.
And he'd give so much to just know what on earth had happened to Sherlock and what he was thinking right now.
The Doctor took a seat on the opposite of Sherlock and tried to calm, while softly blowing at his Earl Grey Tea.
The taller one hadn't said a single word, since their conversation about hand reading and how a mere hand could tell a huge story about one. Their talk had become flirty, and it was so relaxing to joke and flirt around.
It had made them forget everything for minutes.
But all out of the sudden, Sherlock had blacked out.
It still seemed like all those damn pills weren't working at all.
"So, a hand is not less important than ones face or body-language, my dear."
"Huh?", John looked up into his lovers face.
He had been drowning in thoughts when he hear the beloved voice.
Only one look in the blonds face told Sherlock that it had happened again, so he pulled his knees tight to his chest and murmured something, that sounded pretty much like a apologize.
John could tell that he was embarrassed. And sorry.
Sorry, for all the work he had caused John.
Sherlock wished for things to be normal again. Well as normal as they were before.
"Never mid", John replied, "that hand stuff is really interesting. But before we continue that talk, how about some tea? I made Earl Grey a few minutes ago. It's still hot."
"Sure..."
The soldier got up, filled a cup with tea, only a small drop off milk, no sugar and a pill that was supposed to stop Sherlock from blacking out. But no matter how many he made Sherlock take, they barely work.
"Here you go", he reached it over to his Boyfriend and set back again, "be careful."
The silence between them felt uncomfortable, but they were used to it already.
"Oh, Lestrade called earlier! Something about a dead pianist found near Waterloo Bridge. There are some things that are still unclear and they can't figure them out. But he said he didn't want to bother, so..."
"COULD be interesting", Sherlock said more to himself than to John.
The military doctor smiled softly: "Yeah. Want to go?"
"Of curse!", just like that, with a smirk on his face, the curly guy stood up and put his tea aside.
And so did John.
Sherlock grabbed his dark coat and light blue scarf, while John put on his shoes and jacket.
They almost ran down the stairs, Sherlock was so much faster, and went outside.
The shorter one took a deep breath and suddenly remembered that the air wasn't to fresh in London.
Anyway, they needed a taxi.
John looked at Sherlock, who stood there , totally helpless, with his glance on the street, confused and puzzled.
"Sherlock?", he stepped by his side, "is everything okay?"
The taller man looked at him and needed some seconds to get back to his usual countenance.
"Of course, John."
The addressed swallowed hard and painful. These beautiful, light blue-green eyes had just told him, what he had expected.
But he tried to make Sherlock feel less uncomfortable: "I want call the taxi today. Is that okay for you?"
"Taxi?", John knew how badly Sherlock didn't wanted to ask. But if there was anyone he could ask and open up to, it was John.
"Yes", John answered and started to explain what a taxi was.
He really tried to act normal, but to see Sherlock helpless, sometimes even dispirited and down and out like this, over and over again, nearly broke his heart into a thousand pieces.
This wasn't the real Sherlock Holmes.
This was someone, who should have done what the doctor said and get a therapist, so he could help him to cope with the damage inside his head.
But no matter what, John Watson will stay by his side. Forever. And always.
Not caring how much it will break his chest. Heart. And soul.
He will be forever there.
Will be forever his.
And forever love him.
- End -
A/N: Pls leave a review :* tell me anything (well, related to the story...), if you liked it, if you didn't, what's wrong, what's good, how awesome I am, or not, lalala and WHY C:
love,
Mana :*