"If you don't do as I say, I'll kill him"
John, bound and gagged, had a gun trained on him. My heart skipped a beat. No, not John, not again.
I do as he says and soon I'm pinned to the ground. He holds both of my hands above my head with one of his. The other of his hands is undoing my shirt buttons.
I felt sick as his mouth starts kissing my skin. I struggled. I don't want to do this!
His hand is roaming my body. The blow to my head making me weak enough that I'm unable to stop him.
John is trying to shout my name through his gag. I can barely hear him; panic making me deaf and blind to everything.
Something hard pressed against my pelvis. I can see where this will end. I don't want to know, I don't want him to do this. But I can't escape. There's nothing to stop him!
I sit upright in my bed, breathing heavily. I do not cry out, as John does, so he doesn't know of my nightmare. I've never had a nightmare because of a case before. I hated that he's gotten to me, hate that he's invaded my dreams.
I feel dirty, like his hands left a trace on me. I went to the shower, jumping inside even though it is still cold. It freezes me as it runs down my body. I shuddered, telling myself it is because of the cold. Desperately I scrubbed myself with the soap, rubbed until my skin was raw. I just wanted him gone, out of my head, off my skin. I don't look at my stomach or wrists, knowing that there are bruises there. They shouldn't bother me, but they do.
Once I'm out of the shower, I covered myself with clothing. I told myself that I felt better, that I was clean. I'm not sure I believed it. I saw myself in the mirror and something inside my chest broke. For on my neck is an angry mark, made by his lips. Tears cascade down my cheeks and I sunk to the ground. I hate that by body betrayed me, hate that I'm so weak.
The door opened and John stepped inside. He said nothing as he picked me off the floor and pulled me to his chest. I sobbed in the safety of his arms, hating myself even more. He guided me to the couch, repositioning us so we were comfortable. He had deduced that we would be there awhile.
"I'm weak," I finally tell him, "I'm weak and I…"
He shh's me, rubbing circles in my back. He shook his head, "You're not weak. You're human, just human."
I chuckled weakly. I could feel, rather than see, John smile. I tried to get myself under control and John waited for me to do that. Finally, I looked up at him. He was watching me; there was something in his eyes, an emotion that I could identify. I was just glad that it wasn't pity. I don't think I could handle that.
"I've never felt like this," My words are tumbling out my mouth without permission, "If this is human. I'm not sure I want it. It hurts, in my chest. I can't stop thinking about it, which is stupid because nothing actually happened. And then I see this… mark on my neck and…"
I manage to stop myself then, cutting off my sentence with a deep breath. John's moved my head so he can see what I was talking about. Gently, his fingers stroked it. Another shiver ran down my spine, but this wasn't like anything I'd ever experienced. He didn't stop stroking my neck and I allowed my eyes to slide shut. His fingers were nice. Strange that a few soft strokes were as comforting as his arms.
"This mark will fade, "He finally promised, "There will be other cases and this experience will become another horrible almost. It will get better."
"Horrible almost?"
He nodded, though my eyes were still shut so I didn't see it.
"Like the bomb that Moriarty strapped to my chest. It didn't cause any damage, so it's just a horrible almost. The police came in time to save us, so this will become a horrible almost. It doesn't make it less hard now, but it will make it easier later."
His voice was comforting too. Not just his words, but his voice. It was like a lullaby, calming and soothing. I opened my eyes and looked into his blue ones. I remembered how close I came to losing him and my throat clogged. I needed John, I'll always need John.
I pressed my lips against his. My eyes sliding shut again. I didn't really know what I was doing, but I hoped John would. He, however, froze. I pulled back, wondering if I had pushed away the one person I truly needed.
"Sherlock? How much of that is because you're upset?" He asked, voice shaking slightly.
I frowned; I'd never felt anything close to how I'd been feeling tonight. Normally I'd keep my emotions locked away. I was completely inexperienced, completely clueless.
"I don't know… but today, when he had the gun pointed at you… I would've done anything to keep him from firing. Because I can't lose you, I can't imagine a tomorrow without you."
It was enough for John. He brought his lips back to mine, caressing them softly. His arms wrapped around me and pulled me closer to him. I cupped his cheek. The kiss, starting out awkward, became magical. Our lips moved together like a dance, our heartbeats the music. He was holding back, I knew that. I didn't understand why but his lips continued to be gentle, comforting. This was nothing like how I'd deduced he would be like during a kissing experience. Somehow, this made it feel even better. I was the exception. I was different.
He broke away and I immediately missed it. He settled down, lying on the couch with me cradled against his chest. His fingers ran through my hair.
"Sleep Sherlock," He whispered.
Only a fool doesn't listen to his doctor.
The morning was silent. It wasn't exactly awkward, but it wasn't comfortable either. It was waiting. I knew John wanted to discuss last night, but I didn't want to think about it. My control had not just slipped but was gone all together. I didn't like that one bit. I still hated that John had found me sobbing on the bathroom floor, even if he had helped.
John had his tea, sipping it quietly. I could feel his eyes on me as I picked up my violin. I considered filling the silence with my music, but for some reason I didn't. John had helped me last night, this morning I owed him this. So I turned to him, violin and bow in hand, and waited for him to start.
"About last night," John started, "I know you don't want to talk about it. I just want to know where we stand."
Now I was confused. He was sitting and I was standing in the lounge room. And what did our positions have to do with my breakdown? Seeing my confusion he explained.
"I mean… Was last night comfort? Are we pretending it didn't happen?"
"Why pretend something didn't happen, it still did," I stated, now realising what John was talking about. John was a straight man. Kissing me must have been a bit unsettling. He wanted to know if I expected more.
"Right," John agreed, nodding slowly, "But, whatever you decide from now on…"
This was something more that an unsettling experience. I looked at the details in his expressions, the footnotes in his words. John had been around me too often not to know that I was deducing him.
"Sherlock stop, there are some things that you don't want to..."
"You're in love with me?"
John hung his head in confirmation. I couldn't believe it. John Watson was in love with me. How could I not have seen it before? He looked up and I could see determination in his eyes.
"Yes, I'm in love with you," John's tone was very matter-of-fact, "but that doesn't have to change anything. I don't mind just being friends. I'll never speak of it again if want. I'm happy with our friendship. It's enough."
I nodded, because he was right. Nothing did have to change. His logic was flawed; him not speaking of it doesn't mean I wouldn't notice it. But it had been here this whole time, it was just part of our friendship now. Nothing did have to change to go back. This whole conversation was just to find out if he had false hope. And that answer, lay with me. Clueless, inexperienced with all things emotional me. Right now, I didn't know what to say. Like last night, the words tumbled out my mouth without thought.
"Last night, it meant something. I don't know what… but it did mean something. It wasn't just comfort… but I don't think it meant what you hoped it did."
John nodded, closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. It was the truth and it hurt him. But he wanted the truth. When he opened his eyes he smiled, "Alright then," and took another sip of his tea. I began to play a soft melody. He listened to it, drinking the last of his tea. When he rose an unexpected sadness filled me. He was trying to hide it, but my eyes saw his own disappointment. He walked past me; I'm not sure where he was heading. Nor and I sure what possessed me in that moment. But just as he past me I threw down my instrument and grabbed his arm. He turned and before either of us had a chance to think I kissed him.
It was cruel, I knew that, but I couldn't stop myself. I wanted this. I wanted to make him happy. I wanted the dance that was our lips. The music that was our racing hearts. The confusion that was my mind, my heart.
John wasn't the gentle lips that I knew last night. His hands pulled me towards him, his grip tight as if he never wanted to let me go. His kisses desperate, almost frantic. He drew a moan from my throat and suddenly he was smiling against my lips. He broke us apart, but didn't move away. Resting his forehead against mine, he breathed heavily and grinned.
I didn't know what would happen now. All I did know is that I couldn't imagine a world without John. Last night I had opened a door that I now couldn't fully close. Now, I was just like every other human out there, if not a very intelligent one.
And that terrified me.