Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are characters belonging to the Sherlock Holmes series. The following story is based off the BBC TV series adaption. This is a work of fiction and is not to be taken as an interpretation of any episode, or a rewrite of actual events.
Trigger warning: Mention of rape.
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Sherlock normally was home when John got home from work. Today, he wasn't. A few hours later, say about 9 p.m, he came home to the flat. Normally when he walks in theres some form of greeting- even when he's in deep thought- but today there was nothing. There was a dullness that came across the room as Sherlock walked in. He said nothing and just went straight to the bathroom, not taking off his coat or even his scarf.
John was already in the bathroom, fancying himself up in front of the mirror. He smelled of cologne and mouthwash, and was wearing his best outfit. Yes, it seemed as though he was preparing for a date tonight. "Hello Sherlock." He said as his loftmate entered the bathroom.
Sherlock looked at John and didn't say a word. The color was all drained from his face, and he seemed to be out of it. His breaths were heavy and shaky. He shook his head and went directly to the shower. He turned it on and stepped inside with all of his clothes still on. He began to rub his arms, chest, and legs vigorously as he murmured to himself. "get off get off get off get off get off"
John stopped and stared at Sherlock for a moment, memories of Baskerville rushing back. "Sherlock... is something... bothering you?" He chose his words carefully, not wanting another emotional outburst like last time. "You seem, uh... distressed."
Sherlock shook his head and pounded on the shower wall with a closed fist. At this point, he was trembling, and his mobile phone was basically destroyed from being in his pocket. He was in such a delusional state, all he cared about was washing himself from the filth of everything that had happened that day.
John looked at the clock and sighed, offering a hand to Sherlock. "Come on, you're not going to get anything taken care of like that. Come out of there and tell me what happened. I can't very well help you if you don't explain." The look on his face was one of concern, albiet a little tired.
The detective yelled out wincing away from the hand. "Get away from me!" He clenched his fists together and his his face in his arms. This wasn't something he could just talk about.
John jumped, eyes going wide in surprise. He gently reached for Sherlock's arms, trying to pull them down to at least his chest. "Sherlock.. Sherlock, calm down. It's alright, it's just me." Keeping one gentle hand on Sherlock's arm, he reached for the shower knobs, turning off the water. "Come on out of there, I'll get you a towel."
Sherlock pushed him off. "Get off!" He yelled in a fearful voice. He had no idea what he was doing, and still thought he was back in the room that he spent all day in.
John stumbled, catching himself on the bathroom counter with a huff. Trying to keep calm, he looked Sherlock over from a distance. "Alright... Alright.. I'm sorry. Would you like me to bring you some fresh clothes while you dry off?"
Sherlock shook his head and buried his head in his arms as he pulled his knees to his chest. "It hurts, John. Everything hurts!" He talked through his teeth as he spoke. "get me out of here."
John grabbed a towel and slowly moved closer, sitting beside the shower. "I need you to explain so I can understand." He offered the towel to Sherlock, assuming he still didn't want to be touched. "You don't have to tell me everything, just enough so I can properly help."
Sherlock shook his head. "you can't help. We can't go to the police with this... oh god i can hear them now! Laughing as they read the incident report on what was done to the great Mr. Holmes. Although i guess he's not so great is he? He can't even fight off a 160 pound woman! For gods sake i'd be the laughing stock of all of them, we can't go to the police, John!"
John's heart sank, and it showed on his face that he understood immediately. He dabbed lightly at Sherlock's wet hair and face with the towel. "It's alright now. You're okay now, take some deep breaths and try to calm down a little more." He pulled out his phone and cancled his date, telling the woman that he was feeling ill. "I'm all yours for the night." He said softly after hanging up.
Sherlock shook his head and hid his face in his arms, feeling his body throbbing from the things that had been done to him. He looked up at John as he slowly began to come into reality. He looked up at the shower and down at his clothes. "Why am i... And where am i...?" He asked as he looked around the bathroom. He then looked at John and his eyes softened as he spoke. "John..." there was a slight pain in his voice.
"You're alright. You're home, and, apparently, out of shock now." John set the towel down. "How are you feeling?"
Sherlock's voice was weak. He looked down and sighed. "To be honest, i'm really achy."
"Are there any injuries you think I need to check?" John asked. "Or just... general muscle soreness?"
Sherlock shook his head and shrugged. "I don't even know at this point. I'm just going to take my valium and go to sleep." He tried to get up, but let out a groan as he tried to. He shut his eyes and shook his head, feeling John's concern. "I'm... fine. At least i can get up on my own."
John stood, waiting until Sherlock was all the way up before leaving the bathroom. "Before you go to sleep, I'll get you something to eat, alright? At least for the sake of the medication."
Sherlock nodded and walked out of the bathroom with a slight waddle/limp. He went into the bedroom and engulfed himself in the covers as he pulled them over his head and tried to shut out everything.
A few minutes later, John came in with some warm soup, sitting at the edge of the bed beside Sherlock. "... do you want to tell me who it was?" He asked quietly.
Sherlock shut his eyes tightly and murmured so that john would barely catch it. "Irene"
His heart stopped for a moment and he set the bowl on the nightstand as he let out a heavy breath. "I... I'm sorry.." A feeling of guilt swept over him. He'd had a feeling about that woman, but he had pushed it aside all this time. "I..."
Sherlock shook his head and buried himself underneath the covers. He groaned and shuddered as he tried to stop the next wave of flashbacks from coming.
"I.. brought you some soup... If you need anything, I'll be in the livingroom." He stood slowly.
"And... I'm glad you got home alright." He turned for the door.
"Don't go to Lestrade... or mycroft.." He looked up at John. He didn't want to face the embarrassment of telling anyone else but John. Plus, lestrade was the police. and he knew if that file was in the records, any of the officers who hated him could look at it.
"Don't worry.. I won't." He looked back at his friend. "... They won't have a hand in any of this." He closed the door behind him as he left the room, sitting at his computer with a heavy sigh.
And with that, Sherlock fell asleep, not eating any of the soup, but taking the painpills.