A/N: Hi guys! Umm, this chapter is more... I don't know, serious, for the most part? Sad, maybe? Not really sure what to call it but's here! Hope you enjoy it!
-0.0-
Twenty minutes later Sherlock and John were sitting in the back of a taxi on their way back to Baker street. John casually watched the world pass by through his window as he kept his arms folded across his chest. Meanwhile, Sherlock kept glancing at the ex-army doctor, an ice pack pressed against his face where there was bruising.
"...I still don't understand why you had to hit me."
"Yeah? Well, there are a lot of social concepts you don't understand, like when to let someone change clothes in peace." John pointed out while glancing back at the detective who was now facing the doctor.
"It's not like I haven't seen you na-"
"When the hell could you have possibly seen me naked!?" John fumed, now face to face with Sherlock.
"Harriet sent me some of your infant photographs last Christmas, you remember that, you confiscated them before I could look through them all."
"This, right here, is why people always think we're a couple! You don't-" John cut himself off to take a deep breath, followed by crossing his arms and looking out the window again.
Confused, Sherlock also turned to look out his own window, using the faded reflection to inspect his wound. It wasn't bad, clearly John avoided anything that would cause long term damage.
The taxi stopped and immediately, John stepped out and stormed in through the front door and up to their flat.
Sherlock watched him go, not even turning back to pay the taxi driver, instead he simply threw the money in the cab and followed the shorter man through the open doors.
Upon reaching the stairs, the detective noticed a familiar scent and froze. It was faint, but it was definitely chlorine.
"John-" Sherlock began to say as he hopped into the main floor of their flat. He stopped, however, when he noticed Moriarty sitting casually in John's chair while two of his goons restrained the ex-army doctor.
"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked hastily, stepping forward just a step until the bigger of the two goons took over in holding John, shifting his position so that he could easily snap one of the doctor's arms or neck if he chose to do so.
"Most people say hello before asking how one's doing but I'm fine, really. Cozy chair, don't you think, Dr. Watson?" Moriarty chimed, a grin spread across his lips as the smaller goon placed a piece of duck tape over John's mouth.
"What's the matter Johnny boy? Didn't you have fun last time~?" Moriarty cooed innocently as the smaller of his employees went to stand by the window.
"Why are you here? Another experiment?" Sherlock seethed as he glanced back and forth from John to the consulting criminal.
"Didn't have enough fun the other day?" Sherlock probed while slowly taking several steps across the room in a diagonal pattern.
"Well, now that you mention it.. no, I didn't really. Don't get me wrong, Johnny boy I heard you were fantastic! I just wanted to see it for myself" Jim grinned from ear to ear as he stood from the chair and traced the back of his hand along the side of John's face.
Sherlock promptly dashed forward, the sound of a gun cocking back making him hesitate as the smaller goon pointed it at his head. Frustrated, Sherlock raised his hands up and onto the back of his head, his eyes fixated on John's as the doctor kept a blank expression.
"Bad dog! Down! Rhoof!" Moriarty teased while pointing at Sherlock in a scolding manner before returning his attention to the doctor.
"How are you feeling, John?" Moriarty asked as he ran his fingers through short blonde hair.
"I hope you're as ecstatic as I am" He breathed, yanking at the doctor's hair so that their foreheads were touching.
"Oh my! Just this is getting me all hot and bothered!" Moriarty proclaimed just before giving John a big kiss over the duck tape. "Too bad this is just a prelude... Don't worry Johnny boy, Sherlock, we'll be back soon enough. Just wanted to give you a hint as to what's, in, your, future. Lots to look forward to!"
The consulting criminal quickly spun around to face Sherlock with a sadistic smile. "It's inevitable, Sherlock... your toy has been broken. How much longer do you think it'll be before he completely shuts down? I'll keep the clock running for you"
Moriarty skipped happily past the detective and out the door, snapping his fingers shortly after to signal his goons to follow.
The bigger man dropped John onto the floor ruthlessly before walking over to the one with the gun still pointed at Sherlock. The two then walked out the door together and closed it almost politely behind them.
As quickly as humanly possible Sherlock scurried over to his smaller companion and gently peeled the duck tape off of John's mouth.
The doctor immediately took in several deep breathes as he positioned himself upright against the bookshelf. "Are you alright?" Sherlock asked again, this time without John being restrained.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine" John quickly breathed out as he waved his hand dismissively.
"No. John..." Sherlock whispered, lifting his hand to cup John's cheek and jawline while gently turning the doctor's head so that they were looking directly at one another. "Are you alright?" He tried again while looking directly into John's eyes.
John sucked in a deep breathe and closed his eyes, letting out slowly as Sherlock waited impatiently for an honest answer.
"No" The doctor said shortly as he re-opened his eyes and looked into bright blue. "No, I'm not alright" He said in a whisper, his voice oddly strong despite his body starting to shake.
"John..." Sherlock said softly as he ran his thumb along the smooth skin of the doctor's cheek, uncertain of what he was supposed to do in a situation like this.
Taking in a shaky breathe, John willed himself to calm down and nodded curtly before rising up to his feet.
Sherlock quickly followed in suit, his arms reaching out to grab at the sides of John's arms, worried the smaller man might lose his balance and fall unexpectedly at any moment.
"John, you should sit back down.." Sherlock advised, his eye sight immediately finding John's chair and he scowled, they would have to burn it now.
"No, I... I'm going to go upstairs.. I need a moment to myself, please.." John said slowly and quietly as he gently brushed the detective's hands away.
"John-"
"Please" John tried again, his voice cracking ever so slightly at the end as he refused to look anywhere but forward, where the now closed door was.
"Alright..." Sherlock gave in reluctantly, allowing the doctor to walk away from him and up to the confines of his own room.
-0.0-
Sherlock paced for what felt like hours as he waited for John's "moment" to himself to end.
He paced, he waited, and he listened intently, not sure whether to be worried or relieved when the sound of sobs never came.
John had been an army doctor, so he knew how to push fears away, but that wasn't always the healthiest thing to do.
Especially when it's something like this.
However, Sherlock stayed true to his word and gave the doctor time to himself, no matter how agonizing the minutes that passed were to the consulting detective.
Finally, after what had apparently only been twenty minutes, Sherlock heard the door to John's room creak open and he froze, his eyes glued to the doorway as he listened to John descend the stairs.
Slowly, John pushed open the door, unsurprised to find Sherlock watching him like a hawk from the middle of the living room. "I'm going out for a drink" John announced, his voice even and posture proper as he reached for the closet door to pull out his coat.
"Don't." Sherlock said sternly, his voice clear and firm.
Having been caught off guard, John indeed stopped his reach for the closet and instead looked over at his flat mate with confused and tired eyes.
"Why not?" John asked skeptically as he analyzed the door, suddenly worried he might find some decapitated bloke hidden in their closet.
"Please.. Don't." Sherlock practically pleaded as he took several strides forward, blocking John from the closet and in doing so getting a little too far into the doctor's personal space, which then caused John to take a step back so that he could look at the taller man without craning his neck.
"Sherlock, I'm not a mind reader, do you need something or are you just being an arse?" John asked with a heavy sigh as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose in growing frustration. All he wanted was a drink, he didn't have the patience for one of Sherlock's moods right now.
"John... alcohol is only going to make things worse" Sherlock said calmly as he kept his gaze fixated on John, who then scoffed.
"Oh, yes, I forgot, drug addiction is the better option." John hissed venomously as he took a step closer to the taller man, who in return didn't budge but instead tilted his chin to look down at the shorter man.
"John.. you're the doctor... you know I'm right, this is exactly what Moriarty wants" Sherlock explained rationally despite the anger that swelled up inside the shorter man.
He knew Sherlock was right, of course he did, but he couldn't help himself, he needed to forget about what happened, and about what he knew was going to happen sooner or later.
"I'll take my chances."
With that, John attempted to walk past the detective, only to have Sherlock stop him by grabbing his arm and forcing him up against the adjacent wall.
"I'm not going to let you turn into your sister." Sherlock promised as he cornered the smaller man up against the wall, using his height to his advantage as he towered over the smaller man, refusing to budge as John pushed against his chest.
"Bloody hell, Sherlock, all I want is one night out, I go to the pub with Stamford and Scotland Yard all the time, why should this be any different?" John grumbled in annoyance as his frustration peaked, the taller man clearly having the advantage.
"John, I'm asking nicely. Please don't go." Sherlock tried again as he stood strong, using the wall for balance as the doctor continued to try and shove him away.
"And I am asking you nicely- Please let me go." John bit back as he finally got his full body into the push, knocking Sherlock off balance only to have the detective pull the struggling doctor down with him.
"Damn it, Sherlo-" John cut himself off as an overwhelming sense of panic invaded his senses.
Sherlock lay on top of him, having fallen as such, his hands on either side of the smaller man as he attempted to regain his composure despite some of his weight still pinning down the doctor below him.
"John, listen to me. You- ...John?"
Sherlock looked down at the man below him who had his knees raised on either side of the detective, placing them in a rather compromising position as John started struggling to breath.
He knew it was only Sherlock. He knew he was safe, Sherlock wasn't going to do anything. So why couldn't he breathe?
As fast as he possibly could, Sherlock jumped off of the doctor and scrambled to his side as John sat up and gripped his chest as if it would help the oxygen flow to his lungs.
"Breath, John- just breath" Sherlock instructed as he reached out to grab the other man, instantly pulling back as John flinched in response.
"I'm trying" John grunted out through his shallow breathes, the weight of the stranger slamming against him repeatedly still stuck in his mind despite his attempts to block it out. The strong hold on his waist and especially arms, threatening to snap them if he so much as twitched the wrong way making him panic further.
"You're alright, John.. you're safe now, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise" Sherlock tried, saying anything he could think of at the moment, which was surprisingly little compared to what usually flowed through his genius mind.
"I know, I know" John said with a heavy huff as his heart rate started to calm down and his breathing became less forced and more natural.
"Oh god..." He wheezed as he clamped his eyes shut and tilted his head down, realizing just how broken he truly was. It wouldn't take much for Moriarty to get him to stop working altogether, that much was sure, and the thought was horrifying.
"John... Can I...?" Sherlock said softly beside him as he hovered his hand over John's and waited for a response.
Confused, John looked over at Sherlock, momentarily getting caught in his gaze before looking down and noticing his pale hand floating just slightly above his own.
Without looking up, John lifted his hand and interlocked it with Sherlock's, his nerves stimulating at the gentle touch.
Faintly, John could hear Sherlock's sigh of relief as they joined hands, however he couldn't bring himself to look up at his friend, too ashamed of how pathetic he must have looked.
"I'm sorry..." Sherlock said softly, giving John the courage to look up at him only to find the detective's eyes focused elsewhere, seemingly at a distant point on the floor.
"Why- why are you sorry?" The doctor asked, his brows furrowed as he inhaled and exhaled deep breathes, finding the open airway calming.
"This is all my fault... I provoked him, brought this upon you all because I can't help showing off..."
John let out a breathy laugh and gave Sherlock's hand a little squeeze, giving the detective the reassurance he needed to meet John's eyes.
"You're a drama queen, alright- but this would have happened regardless, if anything he provoked you with all of his little puzzles." John explained honestly before leaning back a little and looking up at the ceiling with a heavy sigh.
"John..." Sherlock whispered, catching said doctor's attention as he glanced over at his flat mate through the corner of his eye with raised eyebrows.
"After this... please promise me you won't shut me out.."
The detective stared at their intertwined hands with a frown, he knew how the majority of the population responded to these kinds of assaults. He knew the phases, he knew the results, but still... if anyone could break the cycle it would be him and John..
"Never" John promised firmly as he raised their interlocked hands and met Sherlock's gaze. "I will never shut you out, Sherlock"
Sherlock opened his mouth as if to say something, then quickly closed it again as he looked down at John's left shoulder, vaguely aware that there was a scar there as he drooped his forehead up against it and reached upwith his free hand to entangle it in the doctor's jumper. The detective sat there in content as he breathed in the doctor's scent and listened for John's heart beat, his own matching the rhythm.
John looked down at the mess of curls and frowned, realizing for the first time how much he meant to the supposed sociopath. Without him, Sherlock was back to being alone in this flat with his skull and drug addiction.
No, John reassured himself, even if something were to happen to him, Sherlock would still have Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Mycroft, Molly... He would be fine...
With that thought, John slid on a small smile and rested the side of his face among the uncontrollable curls of the consulting detective's hair. He didn't need to worry about Sherlock, no matter what happened with this whole Moriarty situation, if John somehow broke beyond repair, he's certain Sherlock would be taken care of...
"You shouldn't be worrying about me, John.." Sherlock grumbled into the doctor's shoulder, that of whom shifted his head to look down at Sherlock's face. Well, what wasn't hidden beneath curls, anyway.
"How-?" John began to ask, only to remember this was Sherlock. "Never mind" He added quickly before the detective could rant off on all of his observations- he was a little too exhausted for all of that just yet.
"You should get some sleep" Sherlock suggested despite refusing to budge from his current position.
"So should you" John pointed out as he gave Sherlock a little nudge with his shoulder.
With a deep breath, Sherlock leaned back and let go of the doctor's jumper. "I'm going to stay up a bit longer" He announced before standing up and pulling the shorter man up with him using their interlocked hands.
"Alright, don't stay up too late" John said with a weak smile as he let go of Sherlock's hand with one last squeeze.
"John-" Sherlock blurted out, stopping himself as he suddenly realized he didn't know what he as going to say.
Clueless to Sherlock's little dilemma, John looked expectantly at the taller man, waiting for him to say or ask something.
"Good night" He finished lamely, frustrated with himself for not remembering why he had called out in the first place.
John, however, seemed to think it an acceptable thing to say at the moment as he smiled, accompanied by a curt nod. "Good night, Sherlock"
At that John turned and walked back the way he had originally came and up the stairs, no longer desperate for intoxication. Instead being rather content in just calling it a night.
Sherlock, on the other hand, stood motionlessly in the living room as he watched and listened to his flat mate work his way up to his bedroom. Once he heard the familiar creak of John's door closing Sherlock spun around and looked accusingly at John's arm chair that had now been tainted. Which then arose the question- how to make it disappear by morning without waking John?
-0.0-
The next morning John stumbled down the stairs, barely managing to catch himself as he reached the living room and wondered on in, paying no attention to the detective sitting on the couch as he made a bee line for the kitchen.
"Didn't sleep well, I take it?" Sherlock asked despite already knowing the answer, the bags under John's eyes having said it all.
"Not a wink..." John replied as he opened the refrigerator to find a fresh carton of milk waiting for him.
Pursing his lips, John closed the fridge door, waited a moment, and then opened it again, surprised to see that there was, in fact, a still sealed jug of milk sitting in their fridge.
Hesitantly, John pulled the carton out and set it on the counter, even more surprised to find an entire new loaf of bread resting next to the nearly empty one.
"Sherlock... Am I hallucinating or is there actually bread and milk, that I didn't go out to buy, in our flat?" John asked carefully as he stared curiously at the grocery items.
"Ahh, yes... I had to go... dispose, of something last night so I took the liberty of picking up a few things while I was out" Sherlock said casually as if it were a normal thing for him to do.
John smiled and let the refrigerator door close on it's own as he walked out into the living room to quietly take a seat beside Sherlock on the couch.
"Sherlock..." He started to say, turning his head to look at the detective who already had his eyes fixated on the smaller man. "I... Thank you. It would have been..." John hesitated to choose his words carefully and let out a breathe he hadn't realized he had been holding. "..Difficult... to go run errands, and also... for last night, thank you for stopping me, I wasn't thinking"
Instead of responding, Sherlock shifted his gaze slowly to the floor, then raised his knees up to his chest and breathed slowly, he didn't feel he deserved a thanks for such mundane tasks, especially errands- he couldn't remember the last time he thanked John for going shopping, it was just how it was. Was...
"Really, Sherlock, thank you" John said again with a pat to the detective's knee as he rose to make his morning cuppa, god knows he needed it more than ever.
Then, suddenly, John did a 180 as he looked out at their living room, feeling as if something was missing something... something big... something... obvious...
"My chair is gone." He deadpanned, uncertain of how to feel about it. It was his chair after all.
"Yup" Sherlock popped the "p" as he looked over to where John's chair used to be, still trying to figure out just what to do with the empty space. He wasn't a designer by any means, he much preferred to just let things land wherever they do so land and leave them there. John, on the other hand, liked order, a trait he picked up in the military, no doubt, so Sherlock had to think of something to do with the empty space.
Maybe he could steal a chair from Lestrade's office...
John looked to the empty slot in their living room, to Sherlock, and back, contemplating saying something more about it until he decided he was much too tired to argue about destroying other people's things and waved the thought away. Honestly, he was glad it was gone after the events of yesterday, he just... really did love that chair.
"Do you want a cuppa?" John asked his flat mate as he walked back into the kitchen and started the kettle, adding enough water for the both of them upon Sherlock's grunt of a response.
The detective listened from the couch as John fiddled in the kitchen, grabbing jam, spreading toast, pulling out tea bags, until Sherlock heard a sizzle and a, "Damn it, ow!" from his flat mate and was off the couch and at his side in a heart beat.
"Let me see." Sherlock ordered, startling the shorter man as his hand was suddenly swooped up into Sherlock's calculating gaze.
"It's nothing, Sherlock, just a small burn from the kettle" John explained with an amused smile as he shut off the stove using the hand Sherlock wasn't inspecting.
"I'll get it" The detective proclaimed while grabbing the kettle and bringing it safely out of John's reach and over to the mugs already laid out on one of the counters. In the mean time, John stood dumbly in the middle of the kitchen, watching his flat mate, probably for the first time, trying to make two cuppa's.
"Sherlock.." He said hesitantly with a sigh.
"You should probably run that under cold water, leaving it would-"
"Sherlock." John cut in, this time to make it clear that there were more pressing matters than his 1st degree burn.
Said consulting detective froze in his movements, kettle still part way in the air since he had just poured both cups.
Noticing this, John ran his fingers through his hair with a quick release of air before walking up and touching Sherlock's shoulder, relieved to feel the other man's shoulders relax under his touch.
This time it was Sherlock's time to sigh as he slowly placed the kettle on the counter and turned to look at John almost guiltily, as if he had had his hand in the cookie jar and just gotten caught.
"We need to talk" John confessed as he looked into his flat mate's tired eyes.
"I'm aware"
With that, the two silently agreed to shift to the living room, one on either end of the couch. Sherlock had his knees up to his chest again, while John sprawled comfortably around the corner, his arms spread out as if in a welcoming gesture.
"So... you went out and bought groceries... and now you make tea, hmm?" John said softly as he raised one of his hands to his neck and subconsciously rubbed the skin there.
When Sherlock didn't respond, John tried a light smile and nudged the other man with his foot.
"Just trying to be helpful.." The detective finally said without so much as a glance at the other man.
"Yeah, but you don't do this kind of thing, which means it's because- ...because of what happened..." John pieced together as he sat up from his comfortable position into a more enclosed one with his elbows on his thighs.
"I'm worried." Sherlock confessed quietly, so quietly that John couldn't quite make out the words.
"I'm sorry?" He asked with a glance at Sherlock's hidden face.
"I'm worried!" Sherlock clarified as his whole body seemed to jump out like a jack in the box and spread out among the couch and floor. "Moriarty is capable of anything. I don't know when he's going to try to attack you again, or how, or even where. It's frustrating and I just don't know." The detective hissed, annoyed with his own incapabilities.
"Sherlock... you don't have to know everything..." John said softly as he looked his friend over, they were both absolute messes, neither looked like they got any sleep the night before, mixed with stress and anxiety- really makes a person look attractive the next morning.
"This I need to know, John. I have to protect you." Sherlock declared as he looked to John with almost pleading eyes, as if he could will him to stay out of harms way.
"You don't have to do anything, I'm a grown man, Sherlock" John tried explaining, only to receive a glare in response.
"Yes, because you've done an impressive job of protecting yourself, haven't you? The pool, purple milk, rape, and even last night you tried to go out and give up in the arms of intoxication!" Sherlock bit back.
John looked slowly over to his hands that were now in his lap and simply breathed, in and out until finally he bit his lip and stood from the couch. "I'm.. going to try and get more sleep" He declared before walking away without another word and leaving Sherlock to fume on the couch by himself.
-0.0-
A/N: Thanks for reading! Sorry if it's a little slow or anything like that! Reviews are appriciated!
P.s. I think I fixed most of the breath/breathe errors! Thanks for pointing it out and if anything is bugging anyone else don't be afraid to tell me!