Heartbreak And The Stitches

I stood in front of the mirror looking at the face I haven't seen in so long, I almost forgot that I had those cheekbones, or those curls, or those piercing eyes. Damn… it's going to take me so long to get used to life back in London. I was on the run for so long…

A Few Months Earlier…

I returned home from the latest mission, to Mycroft sitting in his chair in the living room. He had one hand holding his phone and he glanced at me and had to take a longer look than usual, "Jesus! Sherlock?! What the Hell happened?" he had asked.

"All you need to know is that I killed them. But, could you get me treated, I fear I've lost a lot of blood and probably have a few cracked ribs. You should…" and I had passed out on his carpet. Those dreams I had were weird, and I don't remember much, but I don't want to remember any of them.

Now…

I ran my hand over my ribs and they were healed, but if I had done anymore, I would have died. I shake it from my head, and button up my white shirt. I tucked it in and grabbed my suit's jacket and buttoned it twice.

As I grabbed my coat from the front door I had walked out to, Mrs. Hudson walked in, "When will you tell John?" she asked.

I cleared my throat. Honestly, I hadn't thought about that, "I don't know. You know what?" she perked up to hear what I was to say, "You tell him. Whenever you think the time is right," I didn't want any trouble and John would only try to cause it. I know he wouldn't mean to, but he probably would.

"I hope you know he's moved on," she warned me. Moved on? I could only imagine what they think went on between us, literally. Never mind that.

"I know." I shrugged, "Which is why you'll tell him. Won't you?" I asked her in search of reassurance.

She sighed and nodded, "I shall. See you later, then Sherlock," she said and I bolted out the door for the air I had been seeking earlier. I breathed in deeply and walked down the sidewalk, in the dark of the night.

The air smelled sweet compared to what I'm used to, and I have longed for the day I could walk among people again. I appreciate their presence, not their annoyance. Which is why I love John. He's there, and keeps you company and doesn't ask questions unless he knows he has to. Or he's annoyed and annoying everyone else around himself. But that was very rare of John. He was usually so quiet.

Then I began to wonder if I'll ever get to see John again. It was the part of the reason I came back from the dead sooner than Mycroft wanted. I had finished off my missions, and everyone is safe, so I don't' see why he wanted me to wait. He had said something about adjusting to civilian life. But, I am not a soldier, and no offense John, but I don't plan to be.

Although, sometimes I swore I acted like a soldier. Keeping my emotions to myself and shooting before I ever bothered to ask who was behind the bullet. Yes, I hated it, but it was what had to be done, and I will never regret the end result.

I ended walking by the restaurant that John and I loved to go to. You know, when I actually did eat something every once in a while. That was the other thing that Mycroft made me do, he made me eat at least once every day, and I hated it.

It does nothing for my thinking process. But I'd never expect Mycroft to understand that, especially my elder and at one point fatter than me brother. But when he was serious, he was serious. And he was serious about losing weight, so he did. But I still tease him with it. It's funny, honestly.

I kept walking and remembered that night I had another nightmare. Mycroft had come into my bedroom, and he had comforted me. It was strange, but I needed it. Especially when I saw the one person I love more than anything die, again and again and again. Yeah, and the person I love just happened to be walking the other way, on the other side of the street.

I flipped my coat collar up and walked behind a building I found closest, and watched him hold Mary. I was jealous, no doubt, but he was happy and that's what counted. At least, to me that's what counted. From there on, I took to alleys to get back to the flat. But when I got back, John was standing right in front of the door.

Damn it! And he didn't have Mary to distract him as he stared at my door. Well, now what? Do I reveal myself? Or wait for my soldier to leave? Wait… he's mine? I always thought so, but I just now realized that I thought this. Wow, about certain things, I can be dense.

I decided to reveal myself, when John turned away. Oh thank God! I slipped through the door and ran up the stairs, only to slam the door behind me. my heart was pounding as I looked outside through the curtains. I laughed at the look on his face.

He was bewildered and disappointed that he hadn't seen me. then I tilted my head as he walked up to the door. No! John don't! don't you dare-! He opened it and walked through. Fuck! No, I can't! I thought I could but I can't! No!

That's when Mrs. Hudson appeared, "Oh thank God! Tell John nothing, unless you wish. But I will be in my room," I nodded and threw my coat on the door and ran back to my room. I shut the door softly and sat on the bed, exhaling deeply. I shuffled through my curls and slipped off my shoes. I removed my socks and wiggled my free toes.

I may as well sleep. And even if I don't, I need to think, and this will be nice. No one will bother me. I remove all of the clothing from my top half and climb under the covers on my side. My head hit the pillow and I heard John's voice, "Hi," he said awkwardly. I remembered his mustache and instantly laughed silently. He looked funny with it.

Then my mind decided to shuffle through all the things about John. His hair, his eyes, his breathing, his lips, his hips… oh God, the way they swayed sometimes. No! I will not do this, not now, and not here. I'm over it. I am not in love with John Watson.

But my mind defied me and thought about him again. His laugh, his kind heart, and somehow this all came down to the dreams I've been having lately. The ones where John and I hook up and then something horrific happens. Quite literally.

I shook my head from all the madness, and tucked it away to deal with it later, and listened to their conversation. I could hear the strain in Mrs. Hudson's voice. She was about to tell John. Please, just don't let him back here. Not now, not when I long for him so much that I would end up going all the wrong way.

"Well, John," tears in her voice, "There may be sadness now, but wait until you hear what I have to say." She cleared the tears and sniffled. Oh God, now was when she had said, "Sherlock is alive. And he's here. Now, would you like to speak to him?" she had good intentions, but I don't think she understands how pissed John would be at him.

But when I heard him, he didn't sound the part I had picked for him. He actually sounded glad, "Really? I- yes. He's in his room?" John had asked. No! No! NO! He can't. he can't! I'm not ready for him. I'm not ready to embrace him with control, because I won't have any! Jesus, no!

I jump up and flip the light on and sit back down on the edge of the bed to think. What should I say? What should I do? I put my fingers to my temples and thought about it so hard that I didn't hear John open the door, "Sherlock?"

I looked at him, my eyes wide with fear of nothing to say. Tears started to form and I bowed my head once more. What do I do? I can't get near him without doing something to him. Ah! Fuck my stupid brain!

I stood quickly, "John. Forgive me. I left you and I am truly sorry," a few tears fell and I embraced him. He kicked the door shut and hugged me back.

"I know. But, I have something to say, Sherlock. I don't care," he said, void of care for the fact that I had left.

I looked my soldier in the eyes, "What?"

"You heard me, detective. I. Don't. Care. Mary left me and now I just don't care because the people I love most keep leaving. So I just don't care anymore," he looked back up at me, he tried to give me a careless look, but he just made it apparent that he cared about it more than anything.

"Yes you do. Shut up," I couldn't control myself when I pressed our lips together. But what surprised me was that he kissed back. Again and again and again, and I enjoyed each time he came back to me.

I pinned him to the wall, "I missed you too much."

"Two years, Sherlock. But I missed you, too." I nodded because I knew. I knew he had missed me, a lot. I just didn't know he cared for me the way I cared for him. His eyes sparkled as he admitted, "I love you," he whispered.

My lips ghosted over his, "I love you more," I finally admitted. What harm can it do now?

"Can I stay here? Sherlock?" he asked. I nodded and kissed him once more. "I mean," when we parted, "Can I sleep with you tonight? I don't want my nightmares to come back. Please?" he begged. I smiled and through my shameful tears I nodded.

He wiped my cheeks with his small but soft hands, "Hey. It's okay," yet he had tears falling as well.

"No it isn't," I admitted for the both of us, "but I would love to have you sleep by my side. It would be nice," I nuzzled John's neck and my curls brushed up against his cheek.

He turned the lights out and stripped down to his underwear, and I did the same as he slipped under the covers that I disturbed. I slid in after him and embraced him from behind. I put my face in his shoulder and finally fell asleep.

But the dreams, despite my efforts hadn't faded…


Until next week. Only then will you discover the truth about Sherlock's dreams, and how horrific he can really be to himself... Please review!