*You love it when you are with me
I like to be where you are*
"Jessie! Please, hurry up!" I heard my boyfriend holler at me from outside the bathroom door. I rolled my eyes and unplugged the curling brush, fluffing my hair. I knew I shouldn't be so impatient with him, but I was having a hard time. "See, I'm done!" I said as I opened the door and kissed his pale cheekbone. Sherlock wrinkled his nose at me as I smiled up at him. "I just don't like being seperated from you right now..." He mumbled quietly, causing a guilty heaviness to settle in my stomach. Sherlock had been going through a bout of "separation anxiety" since his return.
He kept saying it was just because he had wasted enough time without me by his side, but I knew that wasn't the whole story. I heard him crying my name out in the night and it was always followed with him hugging me to him, usually followed by murmurs of unintelligible words, laced with affection and horror at the same time. I hadn't let him know that I knew about his nightmares, so as to not embarrass him. I had to fight the urge to hold him as close to me as possible and tell him things were going to be alright. He might've changed, but he hadn't changed so much as to lose his ego.
"I love you." I said, looking him solidly in the pale blue eyes, earning a small, tight lipped smile in return. "Can we just get this over with?" He asked, intertwining his fingers into my own. I sighed and nodded. The whole "gang" had arranged a welcome back party for him. It had been two weeks since he had "come back from the dead" and everyone was ecstatic. Molly and I were the only two that had known about his survival, so needless to say, the others were still adjusting. We walked, hand in hand, out of my flat and headed to the taxi awaiting us by the curb.
The second we crossed the entryway, Sherlock was pulled from me and smothered by his loving friends. Mycroft was the only one that hung back, giving me a forced smile as I was left in the dust. "Hello, dearest Jessica." He said, nodding a little in my direction and setting his umbrella down against the door frame of 221B. "Mycroft, how are you?" I asked politely, not really caring as I kept a keen eye on my beloved boyfriend who would quickly become overwhelmed by everything that was being thrown at him (not in the literal sense, John had already got that out of his system). I vaguely heard Mycroft answer in the positive. I nodded, smiling as I saw John properly introduce his fiancée, Mary, to Sherlock.
Sherlock took it quite well, surprising me. Apperently he had matured over the space of the three years that he was dead. He learned that he had to share the people he loved, because he wouldn't always be there for them. The thought made my heart ache, but I understood that it was important for him to know this. I walked into the kitchen that I used to spend so much time in. The past three years had been a big change for everyone. I leaned against the counter, thinking and playing with my necklace.
Everyone had been through so much. So much had changed. This kitchen used to be so familiar to me, now it felt foreign. I hadn't been to 221B in a couple of months, seeing as I usually visited John at pubs or when we went out for coffee. I frowned, feeling guilty once more. During those three years I always felt sorry for myself, wallowing in the fact that I couldn't feel Sherlock beside me more often, but I should've felt privileged. I was the only one that got to see him during that time.
John- his best and first real friend- didnt even get to. I only saw Sherlock every three months, if I was lucky, while he was away. He always came back bloody and battered, looking for help and a pair of arms to sleep in, but atleast he was there. He trusted me enough to let me see him while he was so vulnerable. I was lucky and honored.
It was hard to think about the good things. I had grown a pessimistic side during his time away, but I had to be optimistic for him now that he was back. Things changed, yes, but they could still be good. I sighed, feeling nostalgic, memories from before the fall flooding my mind. I had greatly missed the three of us always being together. I hoped that things could go back to the way they were, but that didnt seem likely. Not with John getting married in a couple of weeks.
I felt a hand slip into mine and a pair of familiar, warm lips kiss my cheek. I smiled, a small, tired smile. "Hello, Jessie. What are you doing in here?" Sherlock asked, his deep baritone a mere whisper. I looked up at him and saw the dark circles and worry that I knew he had been trying to hide for some time. "Just thinking." I murmured, reaching up and tracing a scar that was on his cheek. I remembered when he got that scar. It was the third time he showed up, unexpected, in my flat, his face had been covered in blood. I remember having yelled at him for getting into a knife fight with one of Moriarty's men, followed by me breaking down in his arms.
I felt Sherlock leaned into my touch, my fingers still on his cheek, his whole frame seeming to relax a little. I heard the tinkle of glasses and laughter come from the living room- everyone in high spirits. I wish Sherlock had the same carefree smile, but he couldn't. He wasn't just scarred on the outside, I knew that. I also knew that I might never see another childish grin or hear another belly laugh come from his lips. He had asked me if knowing that, I still wanted him. I did. I had told him that I would always want him, no matter how damaged he became and it was true.
Sherlock wrapped his arms around my waist and I set my cheek against his warm chest. He had never been one to show a large amount of affection, but that was before he was taken away from those he loved. Sherlock now took every oppurtunity to show me how much he cared. It was still awkward and not completely natural, but he was trying. I nuzzled into his neck and hugged him tighter. I knew he was feeling conflicted, more so than I could possibly be feeling. I wanted him to know that no matter sat happened, I wasn't going to let go of him again. "It is going to be okay, Jess." Sherlock whispered into my ear, his breath warm on my neck.
I nodded, almost laughing at the situation. HE was comforting ME. How backwards. I pulled away a little, hands on his chest, fingers tracing his collarbone. He leaned down and kissed me softly on the lips. I wanted more, but I knew I couldn't- not with everyone else five feet away. "Oi! Sherlock! Jess! Come on, join the party!" I heard Greg's voice holler from his spot by the mantle, as if he had heard my thoughts. I felt Sherlock smile against my lips, causing a warmth to spread through my chest- maybe all wasn't lost. I pulled away and untangled myself from his arms. "Shall we?" I asked, giving Sherlock my hand as we walked back into the living room.