John knew Sherlock was not a normal person, he had not deduced this from the experiments he had seen the man conduct, nor the body parts he had found scattered around the flat. It was not even the power of the man amazing brain; it was none of those things. It was the hurt that flashed across the blue-grey eyes, John had only seen it a number of times, but when he had seen it, it had frozen his heart. Those eyes had held such pain; he had never seen someone look that pained. But John watched also as it vanished, as if it was never there, the feeling locking back in behind that big head of Sherlock's, the rate at which he managed to hide his pain worried John also. How many times had the younger man had to do that throughout his life?
They had just gotten home from the swimming pool, John was still shaking, his life had been in the balance in a way it had never been before and that fact terrified him. Strangely though he found himself more scared for Sherlock than himself, if he died he would be okay with himself but he was scared of what would become of his friend. John would never admit it but he was a lot more for Sherlock's sanity rather than his own life whilst he was strapped up to enough C4 to destroy the whole room.
The two men were sat on the sofa in their flat, there were saying nothing but they didn't need to. They were sat closer than they normally did, their shoulders rubbing together with the movement of their breaths, their thighs touching. They needed to be close to the other, they did not need words when they could feel the other, they could feel the others body heat. Feel their breaths, smell that scent that was distinctly them. They needed to keep reminding themselves that the other was okay.
They had sat together in silence, for an unknown amount of time. Sherlock turned his head, automatically causing John to move too wondering what had disturbed the dark haired man.
"Why did you do that?" Asked Sherlock.
"Did what?" John replied confused as to what the younger man was talking about.
"Why did you jump on him? Do you have a suicide wish?" Sounded the baritone voice.
"No, I don't have a suicide wish, Sherlock, I was simply to save us."
"But you would not have saved us John, you would have saved me, you would have been shot by Moriarty himself or one of his snipers. Once I had left there would have been no reason to keep you alive, unless to kidnap you and use you against me. So I do not understand why you did it." Sherlock suddenly stood up and started to pace in front of John, tracing the same steps across the worn floor.
"There is no logical solution, I tried to deduce it but it seems I cannot deal with not knowing, John. I need to know why you would effectively kill yourself to save me, was it an automatic reaction from being in the war, trying to save others at the risk of yourself? Was it you simply looking for a thrill? Was it…" Said Sherlock but he was cut off by John springing to his feet, and shouting in front of the detective.
"No it was none of those bloody things; I didn't want you to bloody well die Sherlock! Is it so hard for you to deduce that I care for you when you seem to be able to deduce everything else about me? Or was that feeling simply not logical enough for you?" John shouted, his chest heaving trying to draw the necessary air into his lungs. John stopped when there was no retort from Sherlock and walked round the taller man so his face was visible, Sherlock's eyes were tilted down towards the floor, his shoulders sunken, John even thought that he could see a slight wetness to Sherlock's eyes.
"You genuinely believe that don't you?" said John in quiet voice, staring at Sherlock's face.
"You really believe that I don't care about you? That no one does?" There was shock in John's voice, Sherlock detected but some how he could simply not make his mouth work to expel the words that were trapped inside of his head.
"Sherlock?" Asked John questioningly, the dark haired man looked up and now John could clearly see the unshed tears in Sherlock's eyes.
"Oh Sherlock." He said, sweetly. "Of course I care for you, I would have quite happily died for you in that swimming pool, I would quite happily die for you at any point of it meant that you could keep living, keep being amazing. You are loved by so many people, me, Mycroft, Lestrade, Molly even sally I think. But I don't care whether you believe me on their behalf, do you believe me? Do you believe that I really do care about you?"
"I don't know how to believe you." Said Sherlock, "I can't remember what it feels like to be cared about, or loved, I have no felt either for so long. People often ask why I turned to drugs but I was not bothered about being accepted by people whilst I was intoxicated, for a few hours whilst I was under the influence I did not believe I was alone, I did not have to keep pretending that having no one waiting to see if I was okay. I have gone so long without anyone caring for me, Mycroft may care but it is only through a sense of duty and a promise he made once to my mother that he checks up on me. Sally and, Lestrade, even Molly, only care for me to make sure I am still there when they need help on cases. No one feels any positive emotions towards me unless they have other motives that benefit them in some way." A tear slipped from the grey-blue eyes and ran down the angular face, quickly followed by another and then another. It did not even take a minute after the end of Sherlock's little speech before his frame was racked with sobs, the tears were streaming down his face like a river, and he had collapsed forwards, clutching on to John; John had in turn latched his arms around the taller man, his hand rubbing on his back.
The two simply stood there, John holding Sherlock whilst he cried. There was no measuring of time when Sherlock stopped sobbing so harshly, when John felt the sobs slowing, he pulled back from Sherlock slightly, putting his hand under the detectives chin, to lift his head up so the two were staring into each other eyes.
"I will make you feel loved and cared for Sherlock, there will not be a day that goes by that you questions my feelings towards you. I wish I could take all the pain from your past away but I can't, get rid of the idea it has left you with, but I can't." Said John, his voice quiet and powerful, there was a passion in it that made Sherlock believe him instantly.
John brought his thumb up and wiped away a tear that was on its way down Sherlock's face.
"I promise you that. You keep being brilliant and I will show you how much I care." Said John, Sherlock brought his hand up to John's neck and played with the hairs at the nape of neck. John lent forward and reached up onto his tip toes so he could press his lips against Sherlock's, it was not a long kiss, nor a heated one, but it was one that seemed to bleed with John emotions. He settled back onto the flats of his feet and Sherlock then leaned to rest his forehead against the Doctor's.
"Until you tell me to leave I will be here, caring for you, loving you."
Sherlock smiled, a smile that lit up his eyes and suddenly he knew that John would be true to his word, and that Sherlock himself would never send the Doctor away.