So Like Him
A Sherlock/John ficlet. If it was written on paper you would see how the ink runs with my tears.
Series 2: Episode 3 SPOILERS
"Put the kettle on John" I look up from the chair and there he is, wandering in like it's a perfectly normal thing to do – but then again when has anything Sherlock done been normal?
He is looking round the flat, chin up slightly like there is a bad smell under his nose. There might be actually, I wouldn't know: I have been sitting here so long I have become immune to everything around me.
And he's looking at me, and I know those eyes are registering that I haven't had anything but coffee for the last three days, that I tripped on my way into the bathroom earlier; just how many hours and minutes it has been since I ran out of tears.
"Close your mouth John" He orders, throwing his scarf over the back of the chair, "The codfish look is never an attractive one." He runs his finger through the dust on the table. I feel like I should be apologising for the state of the place but the words get stuck in my throat. He still hasn't taken his coat off.
"Ah of course," He deducts, without a millisecond's pause, "you have been so deep in self-pity you haven't even let our dear land-lady in to dust in case she disturbs some of the memories." He gives me 'that' look, "How sentimental John."
I stagger to my feet, legs dead after hours of being slumped in a chair. I want to yell "You bastard" at him, punch his beautiful chiselled face in. But I don't.
Instead I grab him by the collar of that stupid show-off coat and pull him down towards me, kissing him like he is oxygen himself. Maybe he is. When I finally pull away his expression hasn't changed, only a lone eyebrow is raised, though I have no doubt he knows exactly why I kissed him. Even if my brain is only just catching up with it.
"Should I have known that was the response I was going to get I would have died a lot earlier."
I shake my head, gripping onto his coat for support, worried the proximity of him will cause me to collapse. "You did know," I half laugh.
And he catches me around the waist, hauling me closer, finding my mouth. And my hands are in that soft hair of his, running across that perfect pale skin.
And tears are streaming down my face, every kiss screaming 'you died you died".
And when I open my eyes the room is dark. And the pillow is wet. Again.