Sherlock lay quietly in the living room, a blindfold placed over his eyes as he attempted to relax himself. Days ago Sherlock had returned himself and by the looks of things the doctor was still angry with him… really though the Detective knew that he deserved it, deserved John's anger and his currently cold persona. John had lost so much and most of to was the Detectives fault…All of it besides the death of Mary and even then that could be considered debatable. Hearing the door open up and then slam, Sherlock winced before calling " I want some tea, John" He had no right to make demands, but the detective found himself hoping that if he acted as he used, maybe things would go back to the way they had always been.
John walked into the lounge, eyes still glazed with outrage. He looked over at Sherlock with his 'you have got to be kidding me' face that Sherlock knows all too well. "Get up and make your own tea! You must have known that was going to be my answer, so why bother!" John threw his hands up in the air in a huff and walked towards his armchair where he slumped down to rest his head in his hands. John didn't like this silence between him and the detective. He wish he could 'make him tea', but the pain and damage Sherlock put him through would take time to mend.
The detective hissed slightly through his blindfold, feeling the sharp pain stabbing through his brain as John spoke to him in clear annoyance. Sherlock used to get headaches like this all the time, headaches that would be so bad, they would leave him un able to do much but to sit down with a blind fold- sometimes ear plugs-, to deal with the pain. " How am I supposed to make tea with a blindfold on, think it through, John" Sherlock called, not realizing he was being rude.
John rolled his eyes, completely fed up with Sherlock's oblivious attitude towards their situation. He sat up in his chair, straightening his back and looked directly at Sherlock. "Take off the/bloody/ blindfold and Make it YOURSELF!". He sunk back down into his chair, head now hanging over the back of it, eyes glaring at the ceiling. John had outbursts like this at Sherlock pretty frequently now that he's back. He can't help himself but yell, and scream at the detective. Three years, he was left alone, depressed, and now the man who caused all of this pain shows up on his doorstep. John wouldn't let him off that easy.
The words from that outburst were barely heard by the detective, all he could register was shouting, that voice was much too loud for him and he couldn't handle it. Wincing he turned on his side and buried his head into the soft of the pillows. It hurt too much, much too much… Curling up tightly, Sherlock made a mental note… Dont speak to John if it risked an outburst like that.
John watched Sherlock as he tucked himself into an impossibly small ball. He should be mad at him, right? John couldn't stand the thought of Sherlock being in pain, no matter how tempered he is with the man. He desperately wanted to go over to the detective and comfort him, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. John stood up and walked towards the kitchen and turned on the kettle, he was going to make a cuppa for himself, but he glanced over at the miserable man, curled up, shielding all his senses from any possible noise that might make his head explode. He took two mugs out from the cupboard and waited for the water to boil.
There were two separate mouse families that had inhabited 221B Baker street, the clock was a millisecond off, John's phone had a problem with the vibrating mechanism in it and more annoyingly the bathroom sink had a prominent leek, likely due to any drunken stumbles John had with the porcelain. All this was un hearable to normal people, but Sherlock had sensory issues and honestly they were going wild at this moment, causing him pain. Living room light had an annoying flicker to it as well and the bathroom lights were painful full stop. "…. " Shifting around painfully, he reached for his phone before slowly taking the blind fold off, whimpering once it was gone….
John once again turned his eyes towards Sherlock. He was in pain, and that pain was staring him blankly in the face. "Oooh, Sherlock" John muttered quietly to himself, face staring down at the countertop. John took in a deep, deep breath before hearing the click of the kettle, notifying him that the water is boiled. He saw Sherlock flinch at the sudden chime of the kettle. He poured the steaming water in a teapot, followed by Sherlocks favourite tea. Slowly but surely while carrying carrying the two mugs, he made his way over to the insanely irritable detective, who managed to curl himself up into an increasingly smaller position. "Tea?" John said looking down at Sherlock, surprised by himself at how calm his tone had become.
Sherlock had heard his name being muttered, but that was about it, his head was pounding too harshly for him to focus on anything other than one word at a time. Sighing out ever so gently, the Detective slowly brought the phone over to himself, licking at his lips as he readied himself for the onslaught of light that would come when he unlocked it. " W-what?" he asked, looking to John for a moment, eyes fluttered half liddedly. "….Thank you" he called, finally registering what the other had tried to say
John poured the perfectly-steeped tea into each mug. Sherlock always had a soft spot for Johns tea, no one could make it as good as he did. "d'you want any milk…or sugar?" John was being…kind, why was he being kind? That's the opposite of how he should be feeling towards the detective. He took his time with his words understanding that long phrases seemed like a loud string of incoherent noises to Sherlock.
"Milk and sugar- two sugars" came a gentle response. Sherlock closing his eyes for a moment before he finally did what he needed to- turning the phone on. Almost instantly, Sherlock winced, turning the phone away from himself… One step at a time. He needed to text Mycroft, get the man to bring around his sleeping tablets and pain killers - as a child he often had a cocktail of prescription drugs to deal with his pains, but had honestly not needed them since he had been a teenager
"all right, I'll be back in a moment." Before John walked away, he saw Sherlocks message to Mycroft insisting him to bring over the drugs. He never liked Sherlock taking any form of pill or any drug for that matter, worried he might slip into his old habits. John leaned over Sherlocks shoulder and grabbed the phone for his hands in a smooth quick motion, Sherlock unable to resist due to his weakened state. Sherlock wasn't happy about that, but was relieved the light piercing at his eyes was gone. "no, Sherlock, You're not taking any pills, understood?".
" I need to take them, John" came a pained reply, clearly not happy about not being able to take some form of drug. " It hurts too much- you don't understand" He called out desperately. If John wouldn't allow him his legal drugs, than he would just /have/ to go and get his supply or morphine- he had some hidden around his bedroom for when he /needed/ it. Sherlock had not touched his drugs in some years, but if he needed to go back to them, he would.
John rolled his eyes at Sherlocks /need/ for the drugs. "Sherlock, you don't /need/ them. Please, I'll help you, but you aren't taking any drugs. Believe me, Sherlock. I've been shot, I know pain. And we'll get through this, with no drugs." John was aware of Sherlocks hidden stash, and had thrown them out after he "died" when he was cleaning his room. John was now more worried for the man, rather than angry, now devoting his time to helping him, rather than continuing to shout at him infuriatingly.
Stranger: "No, no, no" he called almost crying out at the mere thought- He needed them to fix the pain, he couldnt cope with it if he didnt have some way to fix his pain! " You dont understand" he called again, hiding his head away. " touching certain things or even smelling a certain scent can cause me immense pain" He tried to explain desperately, wanting to convince John to let him have the pain killers he needed. " If you would let me have them, than knock me out! Please?"
John wouldn't let him off that easy. He sat down beside Sherlock and resting a hand on the taller mans forehead, brushing away the curls that were damp with sweat. "Sherlock, please. Let me help you. Please, I really don't want to see you fall back to your old habits, I know you'll say you won't, but you never know. I'll get the milk and sugar for your tea, just /breathe/, okay?" John turned full doctor on Sherlock, but he still cared for him like a friend, despite his doctorly advice. He walked rather quickly towards the kitchen to grab both items and rushed back to Sherlocks side. He didn't want to leave him, not in this state.
Sherlock closed his eyes so very tightly as the other denied him yet another right. Sherlock could not sleep steadily without sleeping tablets, but he didn't care for sleep so he didn't take the drugs that he was entitled to… Now though, now that he was in so much pain… He /needed/ to just sleep, to get away from his senses. " Please… Please, John" he called once more,knowing it was all in vein. Reaching for his blindfold, he once more tied it around his head, pulling it tightly so it put pressure on his eyes… It would increase the pain…and the risk of passing out
John understood Sherlock was in desperate need of the pills. He had seen him when he takes any drug, and it always ends badly, sometimes in overdose, and John wouldn't let Sherlock become what he used to be. John sat down beside Sherlock, lifting his head up and moving it to his lap. "Sherlock, just relax, think about anything but taking drugs, please. It might seem like the only option, but it's really not. It takes time for the pain go away, no matter how bad it is, the headache /will/ fade." John said reassuringly, desperately trying to get Sherlock to understand that he doesn't need medication, he continued to card his fingers through the detectives hair, hoping that the motion would ease the pounding in his head.
This was not helping, nothing was helping. Shifting in his place, Sherlock rolled onto his side, hiding his head in the soft of John's jumper. This pain had been brought on through stress and in thus the cycle began. Stress, Headache, Stress due to headache and so on and so forth. The detective moved in to the other males stomach, burring his head in tightly for a moment or so. Still wasn't helping " You don't understand." came his response after a moment or so. Reaching up, Sherlock brought his hand to his face and rested two fingers over his blind folded eye….This would hurt, so, so much, but… then he would sleep until the next morning. Worth it? It felt like it
Sherlock was in so much pain, John could practically feel it radiating off of him. "Sherlock, I have a mild pain reliever in my room, you can take /one/ of those, but nothing more." John nearly swatted Sherlocks hand away from his blindfold. "Don't do that, Sherlock. I'll get you the meds okay?" John couldn't believe he was giving in to Sherlocks begging, but at this point, he would do anything to help him. John would be with him when he took the pill, in a controlled environment, and that made him a little bit more at ease.
"No, it won't be good enough!" He snapped, not liking his control being taken from him. He needed to sleep and John was not letting him. "Text Mycroft, tell him to come with my medication, he is the one in control of my medication, he wouldn't let me have them unless I /needed/ them. " He actually had to beg his elder brother before he was allowed any form of medication, so that in itself was a test.
"Sherlock, stop it. I offered you something, and you don't want it. That's all I'm willing to let you have and if you don't want to take it, that's fine, but I'm not texting Mycroft. Sherlock, listen to me, I care about you, and because I care as much as I do, You aren't going to take any medication. you can try and convince me all day, but you won't be getting very far." John was fed up with Sherlock. He cared for him more than Sherlock knew, and letting him have his way with medication was the last thing he would let him get away with. He continued to brush his fingers through the detectives hair, building up a rhythm that would hopefully deter the attention away from the pain.
Sherlock became deadly quiet, all body movements seizing and his breathing so dangerously slow. Air depravation, easiest way to force the body to go into a sleep like state. He was breathing, but only enough to satisfy the urge or the habit of taking in air. It didnt' take long for the pain to soothe of course, body now focusing on other things, like the lack of oxygen…..Two minuets in and he felt himself slowly dropping off.
John noticed the decreasing speed of his breath. "Sherlock, talk to me, please. Don't put your body through this!" John was running out of options and was beginning to lose his own mind. John picked up Sherlocks head and of all things, he kissed him on his forehead. It felt like the right thing to do. He kept his lips pressed on the detectives forehead that was dampened with sweat for a few moments, before lifting himself to look at Sherlock. He didn't know what reaction he was hoping to get out of that, but he wanted to believe it would be a positive one.
The Detective was almost free of that horrid pain he had been feeling, almost free of it all! But then something happened that completely knocked him off his task and brought back the pain within seconds of his breathing picking up again. Looking over to the other male- well, he still had the blindfold on, so he was simply looking to where he thought his John was- for a moment or so, Sherlock tried to make his mind work, tried to figure out what John had done and more importantly, Why he had done it. Distraction? Yes. "….Unfair." He called. " I was almost asleep- the pain was almost gone… " And John had brought him out of that with a kiss… Just a kiss to distract him? Sherlock didn't know… It didn't make sense for John to kiss him if he had no want to, but why would he want to? Did John care? No. The man had made his anger clear and before that there had been Mary…
"Sherlock, you were trying to stop your breathing to knock yourself out, I was doing you a favour." He leaned his head on top of Sherlocks. That kiss, that was meant to bring relief to pain, but turned out to be more than John expected. John had forgotten about Mary for that moment. He's beating himself up over that fact, but all he could think about was Sherlock, and the kiss. For some reason, John expected a different reaction form Sherlock. He was…disappointed by his lack of response. But I guess John couldn't assume too much from a man who is in desperate need of relief from his pain.
" No you were not, you were being selfish." Sherlock complained, but he moved in… He was going to give the other some of his own 'medicine'. Sherlock had assumed that kiss to be some sort of mockery to him- making him distracted for a moment, giving him some hope, only to find that John had different motives… Deep down, Sherlock knew that, those were not John's motives, but… He hurt at the moment and not just physically. Moving in, Sherlock pressed himself close to his John, head cocking to the side as he moved in close, looking like he was going for a kiss. When their lips almost kissed, Sherlock spoke out. " You shouldn't keep your phone in your back pocket- makes it easy for me to pick pocket. Brother dearest, will be here soon"
John jumped back slightly, shocked that Sherlock had a different reason for being close to him. "Selfish! How on /earth/ was that selfish! The fact that you used me to get to my phone was selfish…I'm disappointed, Sherlock. I really am." John was teased by the closeness of him and the detective, realizing he'd been stabbed in the back by the man he was trying to help. Was John upset Sherlock didn't /actually/ kiss him? "I'm calling Mycroft and telling him not to bring you anything." John slumped against the sofa in a huff, He wanted to help Sherlock, but he felt like he didn't matter, or didn't nearly matter as much as Sherlock did to him.
The shouting once more made the detective freeze in his place, eyes closing tightly as he tried to understand what the other male was actually saying! Stopping and trying to think like this hurt, much too much. After a good five minuets, Sherlock finally understood what had been said. " He wont listen to you, he knows i'm desperate." He called out, gently rolling off of John before curling up again.
True to what Sherlock had said, Mycroft was quick to come to the flat, frowning as he entered and saw a tightly crawled up Sherlock Holmes. The elder of the two knew just how much pain his brother could get in thanks to his head aches…
"Mycroft, I've tried everything. And I'm completely against him taking any sort of medication. /Please/ don't let him take anything." John said quickly as Mycroft entered the flat and gazed down at the pained detective. He knew he cared for his brother, but John hoped this sentiment would extend to the idea of not letting Sherlock take the pills, considering his harsh past with these substances.
" These pills are prescribed for him, John." Mycroft called out, not moving from his place in the door. Unlike Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft did take other peoples ideas and thoughts into some consideration, finding that it helped with public relations. So, he was willing to at least listen to Johns complaints. " He is in too much pain for him to cope currently and the pills will help him sleep.
"You're not just saying this because he forced you to, I hope. But if you must, go ahead, give it to him. I'm out of options, I quite literally tried /everything/, Mycroft."John said hesitantly to Mycroft. John was still, more than slightly, heartbroken over Sherlocks betrayal after the kiss. He wished Sherlock would listen to him. John had been through more pain and heartache than anyone should in a life time, within the past three years. Yes, he's mad at Sherlock, completely enraged with him, but bloody hell, did he love the man.
"My brother can force me to do nothing" Honestly there was one command that Mycroft took from his younger brother and that was the command to keep things between them.. Certain conversations were meant for them and them alone. Moving in, Mycroft handed over the two pink pills and then one smaller white one. " I will leave you, your sleeping tablets, but not the pain killers."
Ah, right. Sleeping pills were not something Sherlock abused - they knocked him out and he only ever needed that when he was in pain and couldnt sleep-, but he did abuse pain killers and he had known from the second he texted Mycroft, that he wouldnt be left with the strong pain killers. Taking the tablets in one go, Sherlock breathed out slow. " Thank you"
John let out a defeated breath as he watched Sherlock swallow the pills. "Happy now?" John looked at Sherlock with a disappointed grin. "Thank you for not bringing the pain killers, at least." John said giving his final words to Mycroft before he walked quietly out the door of the lounge. John turned his gaze back to Sherlock, who was still very much awake. He wanted to kiss him, he really did. He felt that he should have given him a proper one earlier, but Sherlock said he was being selfish, and that made John rethink his decision.
Mycroft had leaned in and whispered something in his younger brothers ear, attempting to stop the mans line of thoughts. " He would not have done it, if he did not want to… It wasn't a tease nor a game he was playing" He muttered gently, moving away quickly and giving John a slight nod.
Sherlock, stubborn as ever pretended as if he had never heard the other males words, instead wanting to be in his sulk. After a few moments, he felt so tired… And he lost any filter which he forced onto himself. " Why did you kiss me?….Were you mocking me?" Came a sleepy question, the younger Holmes looking to his John for a moment or so.
John knew he wouldn't be asking this if he hadn't taken the pills, but he would respond nonetheless. "I care about you, Sherlock. I don't know if you've ever bothered to notice that, but I care….a lot. I wasn't mocking you, Sherlock. I wouldn't do that. I…Oh never mind. You're tired and you don't want to hear me blab on about my feelings." John stopped abruptly as soon as he heard himself say the word 'feelings'. Considering the word was so foreign to Sherlock, it was sure to would be one of the few words to actually stick in Sherlock's half asleep and drugged mind.
Looking over, Sherlock was clearly trying to decide whether or not he should trust what the other male was saying - after a long and sleepy stare, he decided that he could technically trust the other… John didnt seem like he was lying…. But why would he care? Sherlock was not normal and could barely be considered human in his own opinion. " No….I want to hear" he called out, looking to his John with some interest.
Sherlock was half awake, but that was good enough for John to begin to talk. "Sherlock, you are amazing, and I care about you more than I care about anything. I know I shouldn't speak ill of Mary, she was /amazing/, truly amazing, and will forever be in my heart, but then there's you. I…Um…care." He said his final sentence rather unconvincingly. John's thought remained unsaid, worried that the detective would be scared away by the strong words.
"Why?" Came the question." I am a broken human being, John… I am socially incapable of decent interactions. I am rude without meaning to be and I constantly upset people around me without being able to control myself." He called. " My own parents became tired of me and eventually left… But you… You stay and you do care… I dont understand why"
John grew sad at hearing Sherlocks harsh words towards himself, protesting violently in his mind. "You aren't broken. Not to me. And…I love who you are Sherlock, I feel like I have someone that I can protect, and care for, and you, you are intelligent and I wouldn't change anything about you."
Hearing those words caused a blush to grow onto the Detectives pale features. Slowly moving himself up to stand, Sherlock went over to his John. " I am still a broken human, John… but, I am glad that you think different.'" He didn't give the other male a chance to speak, instead moving in and kissing against the other males lips - it was brief and in experienced, but the thought was there.
Johns body tensed when Sherlocks fatigued lips collided with his. 'He understood', John thought to himself. John struggled greatly to form any kind of coherent sentence, "You're not broken, not at all, and I think this just proved me right. I wanted to do that earlier, but…I thought you didn't share the same…feelings." John's eyes met Sherlocks, despite being heavy from the pills, his eyes looked sincere, and that was enough for John.
"John, Hamish, Watson" Sherlock started, huffing as he looked to the man." I know I do not show my feelings like normal people do, but you are the only person that I openly care for… How did you not deduce my feelings from that?" Sherlock rolled his eyes gently before going to lay on the couch, his head resting on the Doctors lap.
John let out a little chuckle. "I do know more about feelings than you do, but I'm no 'consulting detective, master of deductions'! But I know you care, I really do. John didn't know if he should continue, but it felt entirely right to do so. "Sherlock, I…I love you." Johns eyes tightened, and his mind began to go a hundred miles an hour, thinking of all the possible responses Sherlock could give him. He waited patiently, jaw clenched, and prepared for the worst.
Love… The one word that caused a slight amount of fear and worry to rush through the Englishness veins. Having Aspergers meant that emotions were hard to deal with and hard to understand… But Sherlock had spent hours trying to understand his feelings for John… " I love you to." he called honestly, looking to the other. " I can be my broken self with you… and you stay no matter what"
John took in a shallow breath of relief before gazing down at the sleepy detectives' face on his lap. "This is perfect, it really is, and I'm so lucky to have found you. You aren't broken, Sherlock, but If you were, you aren't anymore. You are perfect, completely and unconditionally, perfect." He noticed Sherlocks eyelids becoming increasingly heavy from the medication. He wouldn't try and make him stay awake just to relish in this moment of /pure/ bliss. Sherlock needed rest, and Johns mind could rest too, knowing that they share such a magnetic love of one another.
John really didnt think he was broken? Well whilst that was not true in his own eyes, Sherlock knew that within the doctors eyes, he really was whole and un broken, not even cracked in anyway. Smiling gently, Sherlock closed his eyes tightly, relaxing himself against the elder males touch. " Tomorrow, I should be better… We can continue this then?"
John was happy, and he thought that couldn't be possible again. But Sherlock was this magnificent beam of hope shining into his life. He was gone, but now he's back. All the anger John had for him earlier was forgotten. He continued to twirl his fingers in the mess that was Sherlocks curls. "Yes, please, I'd love that, I love you." John managed to say one more time before the detective dozed off in his touch. Sherlock nudged into Johns jumper one final time before losing all remaining consciousness. "I love you" John whispered softly into Sherlocks ear. This was perfect, and beautiful. John knew he was loved, and that was enough to fix the wounds caused by mary and Sherlock from the past 3 years. Every crack and break in Johns life was mended with those three tired words spoken from Sherlocks fatigued lips.