What are you doing?
John snuck through the streets of London. There wasn't many taxis or bikers or people walking this late at night, so it wasn't too hard. But he didn't really need to sneak until he got to the flat door that he was dreading.
Please be asleep. He thought as he quietly opened the heavy black door. Please this once be asleep.
John walked up the stairs as carefully as he could and opened the door. He turned around to close the door carefully and didn't even notice the light was on in the slightly messy flat.
"Good evening John," called out a familiar baritone voice owned by a certain tall, dark haired man.
Danmit. John thought. "Sher-" He started to say as he turned around. "Sherlock, what are you doing?"
"Hula-hooping, what does look like?" The dark haired man replied as he twirled his hips for the bright red hula-hoop.
"Why on earth are you hula-hooping?" John seemed annoyed.
"Bored." The answer was simple but that was all needed to be said. Of course. John couldn't help but think.
"Since when have you had a hula-hoop?" John asked, Sherlock didn't really seem like the type of person to just have kiddie toys lying around.
"I have always had a hula-hoop, who doesn't have a hula-hoop?" Sherlock replied calmly.
"I don't have a hula-hoop because I am not a mindless child!" John snapped back.
"I'm not a mindless child and I have a hula-hoop." Sherlock sent back with a smirk.
John took a deep breath. "Sherl-" He started but Sherlock interrupted. "Why are you getting so mad at me for hula-hooping, in my own flat?" John then realized his fisted hand and burning face.
He also realized why he was here and tears burned in his eyes.
For the first time ever, Sherlock saw John cry. It wasn't like the clients he had come in, mourning for their dead or missing loved ones. He actually cared about John, even if he tried to hide it.
John was usually so strong, he would never cry, especially in front of Sherlock. Whatever was causing him this much pain would surely break Sherlock, he deduced it had to do with Mary and their unborn child.
Sherlock had never been in this situation, well, not with John. This happened plenty of times with clients but John had always been the one to comfort them. John was even his rock, even if he didn't know it; Sherlock would have never told him. But know with him crying before him, he had no idea what to do.
Sherlock stopped twirling his hips and the hula-hoop dropped from his waist and went to try to comfort his secret rock.
"Um. There there. It's okay. You'll be okay." He wasn't very good at this. "Why don't we take this to the couch." John nodded and Sherlock walked the puddle of John to the couch. "Tell me what happened." "M-Mary. S-she said she was-" John couldn't continue before sobbing harder. He couldn't bare the pain. John grabbed the closest thing he could to cover his face, which happened to be Sherlock's shirt. Before long, the bottom of his shirt was soaked. Sherlock didn't push him away, he brought him closer and stroked his hair. He couldn't help but enjoy this, even though John was in pain.
They stayed that for a while. John wasn't trying to stop himself anymore, he really didn't care that Sherlock was probably thinking he was a dumb emotional idiot. He had his Sherlock and at the moment he was being nice for a change. He finally got stable enough to talk about it without sobbing (After a few tried attempts).
"Earlier tonight, when Mary and I were sleeping, she got up and told me that she was only using me to get to you and get information about you from me. Apparently she knew you were alive during those… two years…" Saying that seemed to bring tears to his eyes, but he pushed them back long enough to continue his story. "Anyway, she said that she didn't need me to get to you anymore, and she left. I have been searching for her all night, I-I can't find her. I didn't know what to do, so I came to make sure you were safe, just in case she was going to come after you or something." John lied a bit. He didn't really come to see if he was okay, it was because his house was too painful to sleep in, he came for a place to crash; checking on Sherlock wasn't in mind because of everything that happened. He could feel tears in his eyes and a certain tightness in his throat again. He leaned over and cried into Sherlock again. "I-I just couldn't believe it." He sulked.
Sherlock felt angry, angrier than he had ever felt. How could she hurt my John like this? After everything I had gone through to protect her for John's sake, she just left!? If I get my hands on her… His thoughts were interrupted by John.
"I-I'm sorry for that, I-I just didn't know what to do. I just couldn't-" He was silenced by a finger to his lips. "You have nothing to worry about, it's fine. If you hadn't come along I probably would still be hula-hooping. I was shoot-the-wall bored" John smiled at Sherlock's inside joke, causing him to smile as well. "You can sleep in the room upstairs if you like, I'm sure Mrs. Hudson won't mind." Sherlock stated. John frowned. "Actually, I really don't want to be alone tonight. May I-?" John was cut off for the millionth time. "Of course. Follow me." Sherlock smiled and hopped off the couch, John followed.
They wandered off into Sherlock's room and crawled under the covers. John fell asleep to the warmth of Sherlock's back, and Sherlock was asleep for the first time in ages.
This was supposed to be a one-shot but as I wrote this I got a million little plot bunnies in my head, so I might continue. Hope you enjoyed this little fluffy short. :D
See you later!