To whom-ever is nice enough to take a read through this, your time is much appreciated. Also if anyone is angelic enough to correct my grammar and such, don't hesitate to contact me. HAPPY READING!
Disclaimer: Sherlock does not belong to me. It is the work of the wonderful collaboration of Mycroft (Mark Gatiss), Steven Moffat, BBC and the ever marvellous Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
Embrace
Chapter 1
It took 2 days, for John Watson to realize Sherlock Holmes was missing.
It took 2 weeks for John Watson to receive confirmation from Mycroft on Sherlock Holmes' disappearance.
It took 2 months for John Watson to finally receive news from Sherlock Holmes himself.
It took 2 years to finally meet him again.
It had been a long and tiring day at the clinic. John Watson was lugging two bags of groceries up the well worn stairs of 221B Baker Street.
Trudging footsteps made it up to the landing and stepped into the living room. Looking into the room, John immediately stopped his action. His military instinct kicked into high alert as soon as his eyes landed on the figure slouching on Sherlock Holmes' armchair.
John Watson slowly placed the groceries on the floor and his work bag next to the door. John moved his arm in précised movement to reach the light switch, all the while not taking his eyes off the figure, intruding into his life.
As soon as the light went on, John Watson was ready to pounce into action. But only the sight stopped him from his combat instincts. The man in question was dressed casually. Short cropped chestnut brown hair coupled with slightly tanned skin. White t-shirt underneath a red checkered shirt and a pair of white washed jeans showed off a slightly buffed body tone. The person also wore a pair of colourful but well worn sneakers. The person sat up as soon as the light switch was turned on, staring into the eyes of John Watson.
Staring into the pair of light blue eyes made John realise who this person is. This is the person, who had been missing from his life for 2 years, 2 months, 2 weeks and 2 days. This person is the one and only Sherlock Holmes.
A baritone voice emitting from Sherlock woke John from his transfixed state.
"John." said Sherlock, as if greeting an old acquaintance. Sherlock shifted his position in the armchair, leaned across and placed his elbow on his knees, held his palms together, pointing his fingers to his chin.
John Watson shook out of his reverie, looked down to the floor. He slowly picked up the groceries and said "Sherlock", whist giving a slight nod in acknowledgement. His tongue rolled in disuse upon the name. He and Lestrade weren't on the closest term, spoke to each other less, and spoke about Sherlock even less. Mycroft was only contacted in emergency situations and VERY occasional socialising occasions.
John started to move slowly with the grocery bags into the kitchen, whist flipping the kitchen light on. He dumped the groceries on the kitchen table and started packing things away, all under the close scrutiny of one Sherlock Holmes. John's well placed and mechanic movements attempted to conceal the wildly raging thoughts rampaging through his head.
'Why is he here? Is he hurt? He didn't look hurt. In fact, he looked fine with the tan and more muscles.' Shaking his head before further thoughts on Sherlock's physique, John continued on his line of thoughts. 'Did he have some trouble? Why didn't Mycroft tell me about his return? Oh, I could hurt that man so badly if he had known and not tell me. Did something go wrong? Is he alright? I should…' Before John had the chance to finish his thought, whist placing a new bottle of dishwashing liquid away, a hand stopped him. This stopped him in both this process of unpacking and his thoughts.
Trailing up the long slim fingers, to the arm, then the shoulder, John Watson once again found himself looking into the light blue-grey eyes of Sherlock Holmes. Frowning in confusion, John Watson found himself asking the same question he asked that fatal night by the pool, "Are you alright?"
Sherlock's grip on John's wrist tightened slightly as John looked over Sherlock's body to observe for any sign of wound or abnormality. Sherlock's eyes gleamed with interest as he observed John's process of visual medical examination. With a slight pull upwards on the corner of Sherlock's lips, he answered "yes, I'm fine."
Hearing Sherlock's confirmation, John stopped his somewhat useless observations and landed his sights on the face that he missed so much. Smiling on the fact that Sherlock expressed his wellbeing, John asked the question that he missed asking, "Well, a cup of tea then?"
Upon hearing that question, Sherlock Holmes smiled and released his grip on the doctor's wrist. John immediately missed the contact but shrugged it off and went to put the kettle on. Sherlock stepped back from John, wishing that he could get closer instead, to better observe the man.
Sherlock was genuinely surprised at how well John had taken to his comeback. He had expected something, but no this. Not the normalcy that he had imagined and long for, for 2 years. John had lost some weight, but gaining a bit of tummy instead. His hair was slightly longer and his skin paler. There was some sign of sleepless nights and the addition of couple of wrinkles. As it was summer, John was wearing a slightly crumpled light blue shirt with a loosened dark blue tie, as he had come off work then strait to grocery shopping. New dark blue work pants and brown loafers indicated a new wardrobe.
"You look paler. What happened?" interjected Sherlock with his new observation.
"Well, England happened." John's curt answer was cryptic. It could have meant the truth, but the tone of the voice indicated something else. Sherlock didn't like facing John's back, unable to read the doctor's facial expression.
Standing with a wider stance, Sherlock crossed his arm and continued staring, no, scowling at the man. John seemed to have sensed the change in atmosphere and stopped him process. He braced himself on the work bench and sighed deeply. He turned around to come face to face with Sherlock's scowl.
"Oh don't look at me like that." John answered with an angered tone. Sherlock simply raised his posture to glare down at the man. He did not understand what when through John Watson's head to make him angry. He did not like not knowing what John was thinking. What was John angry at? He did not spend 2 years away from one man and come back to another. He did not like changes.
John was unsettled at Sherlock's defiance. He could not understand what lead to Sherlock's change in attitude. Just because he had answered curtly, didn't mean that he had answered wrongly. John just did not want to further expand the conversation into his wellbeing or just he got the colouring of his skin wrong. 'Oh' a realisation hit John as he looked at Sherlock's glare. Sherlock had expected to return to 221B Baker Street with everything the exact same as before. He did not understand nor appreciated John's physical changes.
John took another sigh and said quietly "look, I just don't have the energy to do this right now. So please, could we leave this until tomorrow. Okay?" John pleaded as his fatigue from the long day settled in. The adrenaline from seeing Sherlock again started to wear off as Sherlock continued staring at John, deepening his scowl.
As John moved to go upstairs, a sure sign of wanting to stop this line of inquiry, Sherlock moved to block his way. John was bristling. He sighed again and made the motion to move again. Sherlock raised his hand to block John's movement by placing it on his shoulder.
Suddenly a fist landed on Sherlock's face, sending the fumbling limbs of a very tall detective to the floor. Clutching his right jaw, cricking it to make sure no bones were cracked. He looked up. John was shaking and excising his left hand as he shifted away from Sherlock. Emotions shifted across the doctor's face like a slide show, horror, apologetic, anger then finally settling into an emotionless expression.
"Your jaw should be fine. I didn't put too much force into the punch. You might get some bruising tomorrow. But then you got that coming." John walked away, picked up his work bag from the floor, and then stomped to his room, leaving the kettle boiling and a surprised detective. Muttering to himself Sherlock said "well, I defiantly saw that coming", and lifted himself off the floor to turn the kettle off.