Ten hours away, to go see you.
A Sherlock Fic. (Sherlock\/John) K+
Sherlock's return; cases to be solved; happiness to be had!
I don't own any of the Sherlock universes. Sherlock and his adventures belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the amazing Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss. (If I owned it, you'd know! ;P )
It was a good two years or so; as good as it gets, with Sherlock gone. Okay, it was a miserable two years. I was completely broken and...angry when he was gone. Angry because of what I could've done to stop him, broken because he left. I have to give him credit though. He did come back. I was eating dinner at Angelo's when a new waiter came to serve me. It took me a moment, but that baritone voice and floppy hair only meant one thing to me. I thought I was dreaming! Of course, other customer's must have lost any doubt about his service, considering how I tackle hugged him to the ground, kissed him, paused, and awkwardly got up. It was a warm reunion. Reality hit soon after. As much as I was happy to see him, I seriously had to control my fists from flying. I was so confused, so angry with him. After we went to the old flat, later that night, I did punch him. I was making the tea; he was sitting backwards on my chair. He was staring at me. I don't mean lovingly gazing, or deducting. I mean wide-eyed, all out, staring. I guess he was just trying to soak me in like a sponge, holding me with his gaze or something. At the time, it was disconcerting as hell. My brow furrowed.
I could barely move my mouth under his eerily intense stare. "...Yes?"
"I...I was...I'm...Bored, John."
"Bored?"
"yes."
There was an audible pause. Time stopped; and then sped up to catch up on the time lost.
Bored? We were having a moment back there! Having one now! Bored! How the hell does he do this? To me! He was DEAD for over two years, pops back into my life, and now has the audacity to complain that he's BORED!
I told him so, in less polite terms; and I punched him; in the face. (Not the nose, of course, I love his nose far too much, even subconsciously)
He took my punch; he probably saw it coming, but he didn't dodge it or punch me back. He just sat there, ready to be my punching bag. His head was down, his hair hiding his bruising face. For once in his life, the great Sherlock Holmes was humbled; by me. Shit. I thought it would be satisfying to give him 'a taste of his own medicine; to make him FEEL, for once. Of course, it only gave me a sick feeling in my gut. As much as I wished Sherlock to be humbled, I never wanted to break him; even if he did break me.
Author's note:
I actually started this as a joke, but I'm starting to get serious about it. A fair warning to any bewitched or disgusted readers; it's gonna get freaky from here on out…maybe. It really depends on the REVIEWS *hint, hint* Anyways, I'm in a pretty good mood for once. Not just with all this johnlock in the air; I'm celebrating Christmas! (Yes, in July….I have the AC on freezing throughout the house, I'm wearing my Christmas PJs, watching Christmas movies, and drinking hot cocoa) Have a good week! ((God bless us, everyone!))