The Lost Stories of Holmes and Watson
Worry
Lazily, Sherlock stretched his arms behind his head, flexing his toes and legs, eventually slouching back into his chair. On the laptop in front of him, he had been examining responses to John's blog and the most recent of cases. In Sherlock's opinion many of the comments seemed very boring, ordinary, and sometimes stupid. Although one question, relating to the kidnapped children, caught his interest even without any idea why. 'What's your favorite candy?' Reflecting back in his childhood he could only remember Mycroft the dominant sweet eater and then again maybe he had dabbled into it every now and again. After some more thought, Sherlock decided to find the answer by going to his best source.
Do I eat candy? –SH
I haven't seen you eat any. –JW
I licked that mercury wrapper does that count? –SH
No. –JW
Now more questions had been raised. If ever Sherlock consumed sweets he did not recall it and it might be less boring if he discovered his likes and dislikes…
When you go out for milk next time please get me some candy. Also get my tea, I think it is ready. –SH
Why can't you get your own tea? –JW
No, reading over your blog-
Sherlock paused midtext, realizing he had not seen John in last hour or so and today was his day off, meaning he would have been in the flat.
Are you in Dublin again?-SH, he added on.
No... I just got back this morning. –JW
The shocked Sherlock quickly looked around the room, scanning for John, as it was often he forgot he was there in the room when concentrating on some topic, but there was no John in the room.
Been up all night did I see you? Where are you now? –SH
I'm in my room, unpacking. –JW
Right. –SH
No memory of John's arrival stuck out in his mind, yet it usually did for Sherlock felt more comfortable when he knew John was in the flat. Placing the book down, Sherlock lazily meandered into the kitchen, preparing his tea when he decides to take down an extra cup. 'He might want some, from after the journey and all.' Adding the final touches he climbed the stairs, cups in hand, asking loudly.
"What's in Dublin again?"
John glances over as Sherlock walks in and then returning his attention to the luggage that was on the bed.
"Just a friend who needed a favor."
"O..." Sherlock said with eyes narrow thinking over who it could have possibly been, then remembering he had tea in hand, "Here, brought some up for you too."
"Thanks", John answers, looking back to Sherlock to find himself smirking as he saw the detective's face contorted, similar to a suspicious child.
"Are you jealous?"
"Jealousy is silly", scoffs the child, proceeding to flop down onto the bed, next to the sprawled luggage. Relaxing his body against the inviting comforter Sherlock closes his eyes, attempting to keep composure so as to not reveal himself, except he begins to rub his eyes in tiredness and a slight headache. 'How long have I been up for...doesn't matter. Then again, I can only sleep when John's in the flat' pondering over the months he had been living with him. 'When did this happen?' For a minute or so John had ignored Sherlock, wanting to finish his unpacking when he has a good chance to glance over Sherlock with his medical eyes. His results made him worried.
"How long has it been since you've slept? You look like hell."
"When were you last here?"
"Three days ago. ...Are you saying that you haven't been to sleep for three days?"
"Hm, your hypothesis is probably most accurate", Sherlock sighed.
"You really can't keep doing this to yourself. It's not healthy." Mostly empty, John moves the suitcase to the floor and watches him with concern. In response he is answered by the shrugging shoulder.
"Eh. Unpacking is not finished", says Sherlock now peering at John with one eye open.
"I think it can wait. It's easier to unpack than to deal with you while you're sick."
Taken aback, almost insulted, Sherlock bolts up now energized.
"Who said I was sick? Just slightly tired is all. I used to do this when you were not living here, remember", Sherlock spits out defensively.
For a moment John thinks over Sherlock's habits. He was right, for that was his old sleeping pattern. Although he did agree, John nods and looks away.
"I'm just... worried about you. You work yourself too hard sometimes."
"Worry? Worry...worry…" an odd emotion, Sherlock looks down at the comforter in thought, glancing at John to find the doctor's concern for his patient. He wants to reassure him, a happy John is an easy to manage John, so Sherlock crawls near him onto the middle of the bed where the previous luggage had occupied. Sherlock begins.
"I worried about you after...The Event; you were not looking so well yourself, John."
In his time away following the faked suicide, Sherlock was able to contact Molly and his sweets obsessed brother in order to keep track of John.
"It was almost too much sometimes", John manages to respond quietly.
Even after some time Sherlock could capture the hurt in John's voice, it always stabs him and places a heavy force on him. Acting childish again, he lightly grabs and tugs on John's jumper sleeve.
"I was so sorry I had to do that. Tough for me too" Sherlock states, accompanied with a weak smile. John nods slowly, smiling, though still staring seriously.
"But you're here now. Alive."
"And you here too...also alive", ending with a chuckle.
"Will you sleep now?"
"No" smirking through his lie, "still too awake and now you have just returned, I want to stay up."
"Of course."
"But, if you need sleep I can leave." 'Please say no!'
"No..." John first hesitates, "I want you to stay."
"Good."
Sherlock releases his grip on John's sleeve, resting his head on the pillow, lying close to the edge of the bed to be near John. Staring off into space, Sherlock looked for a topic of discussion before he became tired again as John began to sort through his unpacked socks. Feebly Sherlock comes up with something.
"Mrs. Hudson hid my skull again today, found it in 45 minutes though." Luckily for him it is answered with a laugh.
"There would have been something wrong with you if you didn't."
"O god, yes..." Sherlock breathes out trailed by a sigh. Unfortunately the lids of his eyes begin to cave in and in his quiet moment Sherlock blurts out a question before he prevents himself.
"So who was the girl in Dublin? Did I meet her before?"
"I don't think so... she's an old friend from school."
"O..." raising his eyebrows in interest, then to be cheeky, "You ever had sex with her?"
"Just once, a long time ago."
"Ah!" Sherlock was not expecting that, making him unhappy a bit, so to quickly gather himself "Is she ok now?"
"Yeah, she's fine."
"Good...why was she in trouble?" Trying to sound interested. Sherlock's tone is noticed by John who looks over him, whose eyes remain closed.
"It was something complicated with her girlfriend. Nothing too exciting."
Opening his eyes and clearing his throat, Sherlock tries to hide his small victory and relief.
"I see, well glad it worked out then."
Knowing Sherlock too well, John saw through the disguise, smiling, he decides to take a chance and climbs onto the bed lying on his side to face Sherlock.
"Did anything happen while I was away?"
Finding a sudden John Watson in his bed Sherlock turns slightly pink and quickly searches for something to say. It was so difficult to say interesting to a John Watson when in such close proximity and the heart and pulse quicken with nerves.
"Well, um, Anderson being an idiot. Had to fix a case he muddled up."
"I bet he wasn't happy with that", John ends with a laugh.
"Course not. He is never happy."
Not wanting to look directly at John, he darted his eyes between the door and the ceiling, but in his anxiety his body stiffened too scared to even brush up against John. 'Wait did he move closer?' When Sherlock finally moves his eyes to John he finds him nodding slowly with his own eyes closed. Relaxing to John's calmness Sherlock moves on his side, smiling. 'He looks so content with his eyes closed, it is almost…adorable? Yes adorable might be the word. Or maybe even sensual?' In his movement John's dog tags had slipped out of shirt and mere curiosity drives Sherlock to carefully pick them up, reading them over.
"J. H. Watson."
"Yeah", John says opening his eyes to read Sherlock.
"Nothing..."
A moment or so passes between the two, each wanting to read the other. Each wanting to understand. Sherlock saw how much older John's eyes were; most likely due to his three year absence as John saw the deductions, but also the naive innocence. Sherlock saw trust, worry. John saw loneliness, confusion. Finally Sherlock tugs slightly at John's chain, wanting to sound sincere.
"I really am sorry about before, I promise not to leave you again."
He hears it, nodding, and covers Sherlock's hand with his own squeezing with honesty. At first Sherlock is surprised, surveying the hands giving in to a blissful smile.
"I know that you didn't have a choice."
"Thanks..."
"But if you do have to leave, let me know first. Please?" John smiles faintly before moving his hand away, finding a new home, resting on the Sherlock's side.
"If I leave I am taking you with me", states a determined Sherlock as he places his hand lightly on John's cheek. A quick smirk, John shuts his eyes.
"Good."
With some courage, Sherlock moves his face a little closer, noses almost touching each other.
"Sorry I got jealous before..."
"It's okay."
"I think I could go to sleep now John", he whispers, "Just one thing though."
"What's that?" John asks opening an eye. Leaning in Sherlock plants a light kiss on John's cheeks and in his surprised John feels absolutely right. It was something they had both been waiting for, probably far too long.
"I was hoping you'd do that."
"Mhmmm, Good Night John..." smiles Sherlock allowing his muscles to relax as he felt his tiredness pull him away from reality. John leans up pressing a kiss to Sherlock's forehead.
"I'll be here if you need me."
Even on the brink of the mysterious unconsciousness, Sherlock tries to say one more thing with much struggle.
"L- L- Lu…v...yo-… yo...
But John understands him and stays next to Sherlock for a while before moving to unpack the rest of his things.
"Hmmmm Jawwn..." Sherlock mumbles in his sleep.
On his completion John lies back down and drapes an arm over Sherlock before falling asleep as well.
"Jawn..." he hears Sherlock.
An hour or two goes by, both in their peaceful slumber, each holding the other. A noise catches Sherlock's ear, forcing him to become alert. Footsteps…slowly creeping up the stairs? Sherlock waits listening carefully though with nothing there he relaxes, but suddenly he feels a cold tip against his neck. His eyes open to find the insane smile whose mouth began to laugh quietly in evil delight.
"Hello Sherlock, please try not to scream this time hmmm."
Quickly Sherlock's eyes search for John, feeling his weight next to him. Though it is not until a cloud drifts away from the moon the sliver of light reveal John's eyes overpowered with terror. Sherlock looks again finding nothing in those eyes and as the sliver of light grows does he see the flow of blood flowing from John's neck. Shifting his head to look up at the intruder he lets out a pleading "No…" yet he is quickly shushed.
"Let's take this slow honey, more fun this way", the shadow coaxes as he drags the knife slowly against Sherlock's neck. Sherlock's screams, causing the phantom on top of him disappear and in his blinking Sherlock feels his cold sweat. Desperately he looks around the room, to his relief finding John unharmed beside him, yet to be sure he was still alive he shook his shoulder. At first nothing happens, creating a panic, but John slowly comes out of his sleep, in his grogginess. It is not until his eyes adjust does John find a wild looking Sherlock, enveloped in such great anxiety he himself is now on alert.
"What?"
"He's back, Moriarty here! He was in the room John! He's come back, o bloody hell!"
"Are... are you sure?"
"I thought..." looking around, in bewilderment, and then placing the tips of his fingers against John's neck. No wound. No blood. No Moriarty. Again another nightmare has plagued him. 'Will this burden ever go away?' Lying back down, Sherlock rubs his eyes at the onset of exhaustion.
"Sorry, another nightmare", Sherlock breathes out to which John pulls him close.
"It's okay, Sherlock. Go back to sleep."
"He had a knife, he was going to kill- no he had already finished with you John. The blood was everywhere and he was holding me down-" the tears welled in his eyes.
"I won't let him."
"Right soldier..."
In the protection of John's grasp Sherlock allows himself to relax again. John kisses Sherlock gently, running his hand through Sherlock's hair, and waits for him to fall asleep before getting up to be sure that Moriarty was just a nightmare. Five minutes pass with Sherlock deep in sleep and John decides it must have been a dream, abandoning the idea to check the room-
"Hey Johnny boy" a calm voice slashes through the air "Been awhile."
John quickly jumps out of Sherlock's grasp, taking on his fighting stance.
"Shhhhhhhh", the voice begins again, "don't be loud, don't wanna wake our precious do we?"
The voice is found from behind the door and as John peers into the darkened shadows, and John watches as the intruder slowly emerges.
"What are you doing here?" John growls, fists tightening, muscles tense ready to fight for everything. Moriarty just stares in amusement, chewing on his gum and smirking.
"Just checking in, something I like to do every once in awhile. I need you to take care of him better Johnny. No sleeping, no eating, and you were only gone three days."
"How... how are you even still alive?" John snaps. This man was the cause of everything. For his suffering, for Sherlock's suffering. All of the turmoil. Everything.
"Can't tell you. Ruins the fun of the game. Same reason why I need Sherly healthy, stress free."
Gritting his teeth, John looks around quickly for anything that he could possibly use to club the monster with.
"Get out!"
"Shhhhhh, what did I say? I don't want to wake him."
The intensity and rage reminded John that Sherlock was still behind him, so he steals a quick look at Sherlock, who remained asleep not stirring from the noise or John's movements. The nightmare had taken its toll.
"Please, like I said I was only checking in, especially with the happy couple reunited again. I was not sitting down for tea."
"You want him stress-free? It won't help that you're still alive."
"Eh", shrugging his shoulders,"Can't have everything and for god's sakes give him some sex or something, get endorphins going or something. Those hormones do wonderful things for the health and upkeep of one's body."
Slowly walking toward the John, Moriarty's grin unnaturally widens further. John prepares himself, except even with Moriarty in striking distance he finds himself frozen, afraid to touch him in the event something else happens.
"I want this game to last as long as possibly Johnny boy."
"You really need to leave. Now." John threatens.
"How rude. Just stick close to him, hm?"
Moriarty ends on wink and a snap of his gum, and with that he backs away for only a few steps.
"It would be easier if you were dead."
"Can't get rid of me easily", checking his watch, "Well it is late. Time for my bedy by. Good night sweet Prince." Moriarty says drawing his eyes to Sherlock. Then to John.
"Goodnight Princess."
Having backed into the middle of the door frame, Moriarty spins dramatically, practically skipping down the stairs, leaving John in his rage and anguish. He listens for him to leave, slowly making his way to the door and locking it. Moriarty reaches the bottom of the staircase strolling out of 221 Baker into the cold street bellow with John watching from the window, witnessing him disappear into his realm of shadows. Now exhausted himself, John sits at the end of the bed, dropping his head in his hands. Turning around he analyzes Sherlock, still asleep despite all that had transpired. Gathering himself, John proceeds to pick himself up, checking the locked windows, the door again, and opening the drawer he pulls out the handgun. Though his body trembled, John sat down on the floor next the side of the bed, with finger on the trigger.
He waited.