This is a short story based off a picture found on deviantart by Daunting Fire, who I hope may read and like this as well!
John's chest heaved and his body burned. He was angry, furious, livid. Absolutely pissed! Once again, Sherlock has done something life threatening without telling him and came out completely fine; like always. And also, like always, John was crazy with worry for his friend. That's the part that made him so angry. He always worried so much and Sherlock... He didn't care about what he did or how it bothered John, who was clearly the only friend he had in the world.
John was so upset, he refused to talk to the detective. They walked side by side along the banks of a river... The one John nearly drowned himself in, trying to pull Sherlock from the waters. He was absolutely fine, of course. Just an experiment, he said. Mans life depended on it. He said.
What about your life? John grumbled silently to himself. What about mine?
"I sense something is troubling you." Sherlock commented as he wrung the water out of his scarf. John clenched his teeth, determined to keep the flood gates closed. He was just so angry! And Sherlock probably had no idea how close John was to just drowning the detective in the river himself!
"You should just talk about it John. The silent treatment never worked well for you." He said this with a gentle smirk as he wrapped his scarf back around his neck, despite it being wet. Now John clenched his fists as well as his teeth. He wouldn't give in. No matter what the self-proclaimed genius said, he would not give in!
"You didn't have to jump in. I was fully capable-" SLAP! Sherlocks words ended with an almighty smack across the cheek. He wobbled and caught himself on a brick wall with his right hand. His left was raised to his red cheek. It hurt but his surprise was stronger than the pain. He wasn't surprised at all that John was angry with him but it was very above the doctor to be violent.
"You idiot! You stupid, irresponsible, idiot!" John was so furious, he couldn't even put it into words. All he wanted to do was scream at his flatmate. "How can someone be so goddamn smart and stupid at the same time? Even common people can see what a complete moron you are! Why do you do this? No, wait you've told me. You're so bloody smart! You're bloody thick, that's what you are!"
John yelled while Sherlock stared at him, astonished, still holding his bruising cheek. His friend has yelled at him before, but never like this. He certainly never struck the detective. Yes, there was the one time on a case but never unprovoked. This particular fury... it was beyond Sherlock. At least it was... before he saw!
John's eyes were red, dilated and slightly rimmed with unshed tears. His lips were quivering, as was his chin, in between shouts and swears. His body was shaking too, that was particularly odd. After dangerous situations, John was usually calmer. His breathing was uneven and he could barely look at Sherlock for more than a moment before looking away.
"I mean, it's one thing to be as twisted as you in the head, its another thing to start jumping off bridges! Do you ever, ever just once, stop to think about what could happen? You could have gotten hurt! You could have drown! Then everyone would be left, wondering who finally killed you and we would have no idea you were just stupid!" John screamed everything that popped into his head, regardless of how ridiculous he sounded. He didn't care.
Sherlocks eyes widened at the sight before him. His good friend, colleague, doctor, and flatmate... coming undone. All over a little bit of water. His hand dropped as he watched and listened. He decided he didn't like John's yelling a long time ago, mostly because he sounded whiny whenever he did. But now, he still didn't like it... because it hurt. He felt wrong for upsetting John and he wanted to make it right.
"John." Sherlocks voice was steady, quiet. It struck a nerve within John. The tears in his eyes threatened to spill over and he gasped, desperate to keep them down. Never let the great Sherlock Holmes see you cry.
"I-its all about your experiments, your... you! Everything is al-always about you!" John was only screaming now because he didn't want to cry. He didn't understand it but Sherlock could see. He wasn't screaming anymore, he was becoming hysterical.
"John." Sherlock repeated, taking a step towards his friend. His face was turning red and he drew rough breaths through his mouth, making gasping sounds.
"Why do... Why do you do this?" John asked, closing his eyes against his own tears. Sherlock seized this moment to put a hand on his waist and use his taller frame to press the doctor against the brick wall.
John gasped but refused to open his eyes. He put his hand on the detectives chest, finding the wet scarf. His fingers automatically curled around it. He didn't know if he should push him away or pull him closer. He made him so furious... but he was so worried too.
"I'm sorr-"
"Don't." Johns voice was weak, thick with tears. They finally spilled over, pouring down his face. Sherlock was both surprised and heart broken. "Just... please... don't"
"Okay." Sherlock whispered. Without a single thought, he bent down and kissed John. His lips quivered for a moment and then hesitantly returned the kiss.
Johns other hand ended up clutching a fistful of Sherlocks jacket as he kept the taller detective pressed firmly up against him. Sherlocks hands were resting on the wall... keeping John between him and a hard place. Not that the doctor had thoughts about going anywhere else.
When they pulled apart for air, they found that they had both been crying throughout the kiss. Sherlock wiped away his silent tears and held out a gloved hand to John. Who cautiously placed a slightly trembling hand in his.
Neither of them said anything as they walked back to the flat. Once inside, Sherlock wordlessly pulled John up to his room where they both stripped naked of their wet clothes. The sheets on Sherlocks bed were warm. The detective was careful when tucking his friend... perhaps even lover into his arms where he could safely monitor John's sleeping form. Keep him safe and free of dreams.
"You need to sleep too." The smaller man muttered as he yawned. Sherlock started to shake his head.
"Don't." John ordered with a stern frown. Sherlock found himself smiling as he kissed him again, whispering
"Okay."
I hoped all my readers enjoyed, and also to Daunting Fire. I especially hope you of all people like it. Since it is my interpretation from your artwork, I hope I've done it justice, so to speak.
And to my readers, a link to the picture that inspired this story: art/Sherlock-BBC-Just-don-t-179070173