John stared at the razor in his hand, tears filling his eyes. Three years. It had been three years since he watched the only man he ever loved jump to his death. He didn't know how he remained strong for so long, but he couldn't do it anymore. He needed to deal with the pain and in the past few months this is the way he'd found to do it. John wished more than anything that Sherlock would somehow come back.
Sherlock was going out of his mind. It had been three years since he had pretended to commit suicide. After those long years, he had finally defeated Moriarty's underground crime operations. He was finally coming home. Sherlock decided to surprise John by sneaking into the flat.
John sighed raggedly and started to press the blade to the skin on his arm, underneath the other scars he had accumulated. Tears started to run down his face and he released a sob as he started to cut.
Sherlock started up the stairs to their flat and slowly opened the door. He saw John sitting in his old chair, facing away from him. He crept up behind John silently and froze at what he saw. "John!"
John dropped the blade to the floor with a soft 'clink'. His head spun around and he gasped, "Sh-Sherlock?" he whispered, eyes wide in disbelief. He stood up shakily, but stood still, afraid that he would disappear if he got closer. Sherlock stepped foward and gently grabbed John's arm. "This has been going on for almost a year," he stated simply, eyes locked on the scars.
John nodded silently and swallowed, tears continuing to fall. He kept his eyes locked on Sherlock's face, still not quite able to believe that he was here and not dead. "This will stop. Now. Understood?" Sherlock said firmly, tearing his gaze away from John's arm to look him in the eyes. "Are you going to leave me again?" John finally spoke, his voice rough, "Because if you are, I can't promise you it will stop." Sherlock sighed sadly, "No, John. I'm here for good."
John made a noise somewhere between a whimper and a sob and threw his arms around the detective, clutching him tightly as if he would evaporate at any moment, "Sherlock... God, Sherlock..." he sobbed, breath hitching and his knees threatening to give out. "I... I missed you. So. Damn. Much."
Sherlock froze for a moment, but relaxed and tentatively wrapped his arms around the shorter man, laying his cheek on the top of his head and trying to soothe him. "I missed you, too John. I'm so sorry..."After several moments, he scooped John up and carried him to the couch.
John continued to cling to him and as he was lowered down, he pulled back far enough to look at Sherlock again. He raised a hand to his face and stroked it gently, "you're here... you're really here. I... I'm not dreaming, am I? God, please tell me I'm not dreaming," he whispered.
"No, John, I'm here. Give me your arm again," Sherlock frowned. John held his arm out, still shivering slightly from all the emotion that had fell on him in the past few moments. "Not very deep, thank God. They probably don't need any real medical attention, save for a few bandages, hmm?" Sherlock said, glad that he had been there to stop him from doing anymore damage to himself.
John nodded slowly, "Sherlock? Why... why did you do it? Why did you make me watch you..." he swallowed again, not able to say the words. "And you left! You weren't even dead! I don't... I don't understand!" By the time he was finished speaking his voice had raised in volume and pitch, he was almost shrieking.
"Moriarty. He had eyes on you. If I told you it was an act, if your reaction was anything less than genuine, if your actions following were anything less than genuine, he would have killed you. I didn't expect you to start self-harming. I told Mycroft to keep a bloody eye on you." Sherlock growled, his jaw set in a harsh line. He frowned, unable to keep the sick feeling of guilt and anger at himself from pooling in his gut.
John shook his head, "don't blame him, this is my doing. My weakness. I just couldn't... I couldn't live without you anymore and... it never got to the point where I was actually doing enough damage to bleed out, although I thought about it. I just needed a distraction from the pain." John murmured.
Sherlock shook his head, "You are not weak for doing this. Never think that. You just channeled your pain in a destructive manner, but it wasn't out of weakness. I'm here now, and I promise, I will never leave you ever again." He lifted a shaky hand and cupped John's cheek, smiling reassuringly at him.
John looked up at Sherlock and managed a weak smile before grabbing the back of his head and tugging him down into a kiss. Sherlock tensed in surprise at first, but soon his lips were desperate and yet soft against John's. As John slipped his tongue past their joined lips and deepened the kiss, both men moaned desperately and John clutched Sherlock closer.
They continued to snog passionately, John reaching up and stroking every part of Sherlock's body he could reach. He needed the affirmation, needed to convince his entire being that Sherlock was back and everything was going to be okay again. He pulled back, needing to breath, "Sherlock... I need you." he whispered against his lips. "Need me how?" Sherlock said, brow furrowed in confusion.
John groaned, "I need you to make love to me, you git," he chuckled breathlessly. Sherlock blushed, but quickly recovered. "Oh... I was hoping you'd say that," Sherlock smiled. "Here or the bed?"
"The bed, please. Don't think my back can take the couch," John squirmed and smiled up at him. Sherlock scooped John up again and carried him into the bedroom. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck and nuzzled into his collarbone as he was carried. After managing to reach the bedroom and open the door, Sherlock laid John on the bed gently, positioning himself astride John's hips and began to undress himself.
John looked up at Sherlock and his eyes followed his motions, watching him unbutton his shirt and seeing the muscles of his chest and stomach contract and relax as he took it off and tossed it aside. "So beautiful... I missed you so much, Sherlock," he murmured, running his hand along Sherlock's thigh.
"Not as beautiful as you. I missed you as well, love." Sherlock whispered and began to remove John's clothing. John lifted his arms up, allowing him to remove his jumper. John realised too late that Sherlock would now see all of the scars he had acquired in his absence and he looked away, biting his lip.
Sherlock inhaled a sharp breath as all the scars were revealed. He ran his hands across them, some on his sides, several on his stomach, many on his wrists and all the way up his arms. John had his eyes screwed shut, still refusing to look at Sherlock's face.
"Look at me, John." Sherlock said firmly. John swallowed and turned his head, tears glistening in his eyes. He locked gazes with Sherlock and waited. He knew Sherlock would be angry with him and he tensed slightly in anticipation. "Are these everywhere, darling?" Sherlock asked, voice shaking slightly and tears of his own forming in his eyes.
"Only on my torso and arms," John said softly.
"No more." Sherlock replied, the words coming out harsher than he meant them to. John nodded, "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry," he sobbed, tears running down his face again, "please don't... don't hate me."
Sherlock shushed John and stroked his sides gently, "hey, it's alright. I'm not angry with you and I could never think of hating you. Just, no more, please." Sherlock kissed away his tears.
John sighed and let his eyes close slowly as he felt Sherlock's lips on his face, his breath making the wet spots cool. He shivered and turned his face to make their lips meet again, craving the contact. Sherlock kissed John back softly, trying to push away the sick feeling in his stomach. He had caused John to self-harm. This was all his fault.
John whimpered into the kiss and brought his hands up to tangle in Sherlock's curls. He needed more contact between them. He bucked his hips up in a silent request. "Impatient, are we?" Sherlock smirked against his lips. "I waited three /bloody/ years, Sherlock... Yes. I'm impatient," he moaned.
"I'm sorry, love." Sherlock mumbled and got up to get a bottle of lube. John sighed, "I'm sorry, Sherlock. I just... I missed you is all. Don't blame yourself for this, okay? You did what you had to do," he told him, trying his best to be reassuring.
"Don't apologize. I missed you, too. Besides, I think it's too late for that." Sherlock said, walking back to the bed and standing there with the bottle in his hands."Too late for what, love?" John said, pulling Sherlock back onto the bed with him. He placed his hand on Sherlock's side, stroking softly.
Sherlock sighed, "I blame myself for every scar, for every tear," he reached over and wiped John's cheek, "I blame myself for having to leave in the first place." He looked down dejectedly, feeling tears start to run down his face.
John slid his hand up to the back of Sherlock's head again, turning his face back up so they were looking in the eyes, "You're back now. That's all I care about," he said and smiled before leaning in for another impassioned kiss.
Sherlock tried to keep all of his sadness out of the kiss, doing his best to ignore the ache that was still there from seeing John in so much distress. "I love you so much, Sherlock," John whispered against Sherlock's lips as he pulled away, grabbing onto his hips and maneuvering him until he was straddling him again. He tugged at Sherlock's pants, pulling them down and off.
"I love you, too." Sherlock whispered, moving off of him to take John's pants off as well. He reached for the lube that he had placed on the bedside table and coated his fingers in it. He placed one at John's entrance, "this may be a bit uncomfortable, but try to relax." He said softly. John nodded and placed his hands next to his sides, allowing Sherlock to take over.
Sherlock slowly slid a finger in, carefully gauging John's response. John moaned and pushed down on the intruding digit, trying to get more inside him. Sherlock grinned and added a second finger. He began to scissor them, stretching John open. He crooked the digits and pressed against John's prostate.
John whimpered, feeling his cock twitch with every movement. "Sherlock," he groaned, "please..." Sherlock nodded and removed his fingers. He squirted more lube into his palm and warmed it a bit before covering his length. He positioned himself at John's entrance, "ready?" John nodded quickly and held onto Sherlock's shoulders.
Sherlock pushed in slowly, groaning at the incredible tightness surrounding him, "God... John," he panted, dropping his head to John's shoulder and kissing it lightly. John whimpered and clenched his eyes shut, trying to get past the pain. Ever so slowly, Sherlock continued to push forward until he was finally inside him up to the hilt. After a few moments of just lying there holding each other close, John squirmed. "Now, Sherlock," he whispered.
Sherlock lifted himself up and rotated his hips, pulling out almost all the way before sliding slowly back in. They moaned simultaneously and after a few more thrusts, Sherlock picked up his speed, hitting John's prostate on every inward motion.
"Sh-Sherlock... Jesus..." John groaned, his head craned back, eyes rolling to the back of his head in sheer pleasure. Sherlock took the opportunity to lean down and place kisses to John's throat, sucking and licking, leaving marks. When John started to buck his hips up to meet him, Sherlock moaned and reached down between them to cup John's arousal in his hand. He pumped at the same rhythm of their combined thrusts.
"John, fuck... John," he panted in John's ear, feeling himself grow closer with every thrust. John grunted and pulled Sherlock into another kiss, sloppy and wet. He pushed Sherlock's face away after a few moments, whispering endearments against his lips.
Sherlock whimpered and allowed a few tears to fall onto John's chest, all the emotion he was feeling overwhelming him. He was consumed by John, every thought in his head revolving around him, this moment and how much he loved this man. He looked into John's eyes as he swiped his thumb over John's slit, "I love you so much, John Watson," he murmured lovingly.
At those words and the feeling of Sherlock's hand on him, John came with a shout. His whole body convulsing and his back arching off of the bed. Sherlock followed soon after with John's name on his lips, feeling his body clench around his cock. His brain shut down for those few precious moments as his orgasm washed over him.
Sherlock collapsed on top of John and panted heavily, trying to regain his breath. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock, stroking weakly along his back, "That was amazing," he breathed. Sherlock lifted himself up and removed his softening member from John's body. He smiled at him and placed a soft kiss on his lips, "I'll be right back," he whispered and rolled off the bed to go get a towel.
Sherlock quickly grabbed one from the adjoining bathroom, not wanting to leave John alone for long. He walked back to the bed and crawled back in, gently wiping away the mess on John's stomach and then cleaning himself off. He tossed the towel to the corner of the room and grabbed the covers, covering them both up and tangling his legs with John's. He placed his arm around John's waist and pulled him close for another kiss. When he pulled back, he saw John smiling.
"I'm so happy you're back," John whispered. "Me too, love. Me too," Sherlock murmured and kissed him again before pulling John's head down onto his shoulder and running his fingers through his hair. John sighed, genuinely happy for the first time in over three years. Sherlock was back and he was never leaving. They both went to sleep that night smiling, finally being back where they both belonged. Home.