John stops right in front of Sherlock. His face is wet. John stands and looks. He's never seen that face wet from tears before. Sure, he's seen rain on it, but somehow these tears look different than that.
Sherlock doesn't say anything, just wipes his nose. His eyes seem colorless as they look right back at John's. They are quiet.
John is marveling that he is standing next to him again. They are close enough that he can smell a different shampoo on Sherlock. He decides not to think about how he knows that.
Sherlock opens his mouth and a tiny sound comes out before John's hand raises. It seems to push Sherlock away. The detective's mouth closes. He waits.
John's mouth moves. He wants to say so many things.
He takes a big breath and throws his arms around Sherlock's neck. Sherlock leans down, and his breath is against John's neck. His hands, God, his hands are holding John tight. He'd never thought he'd feel Sherlock's hands again. Sherlock starts to cry again. John's fingers move to Sherlock's hair. He touches the curls lightly, again and again. They can't tell, but both have their eyes shut.
John whispers. "Sherlock."
The detective hums. John feels it against his collarbone.
John is still whispering. "What the hell were you doing? I should have come with you! Why didn't you tell me?!" His voice slows. "Why did you leave me behind? I could've helped." He swallows.
John forces the name out of him, pushes it out of his mouth with his tongue. "Sherlock. Oh, Sherlock."
He backs away, and Sherlock lets his arms fall.
John feels a stab of panic. He has to hold onto Sherlock. What if he tries to leave again? He grabs Sherlock's wrist. He's not sure if he purposely takes his pulse or not. But it's there. How is it there now, when it wasn't two years ago?
Sherlock looks at John. Holding his gaze as he so often did. Sherlock reaches up to trace the 221B and pushes the door open slowly. John shuts it behind them.
They stand facing each other in the darkness. The shadows cover their faces.
John stands, waiting. He doesn't say anything.
Sherlock pulls John up the stairs, slowly. He lets his free hand slide up the railing, feeling the story of how John and Mrs. Hudson got on without him.
Sherlock sits in his chair. John stands in the doorway. They look at each other. Then, John seems to pull himself together. He moves stiffly to sit in his own chair. He looks down at his hands, then turns his gaze to Sherlock.
He shakes his head once.
The eyes watch him. They have dark circles under them.
Sherlock yawns. John has never seen that before. He points to Sherlock's bedroom.
"Go. Sleep. We'll talk in the morning."
Sherlock obeys and after sitting, John goes to his own bedroom.
He cannot get to sleep.
The doctor gets out of his bed and goes to Sherlock's room. The man is sleeping curled in the middle of the bed. Somehow, John imagined Sherlock taking up all of it, with his long limbs spread out.
He opens one eye when John sits down. John feels the need to explain. "I...uh, can I stay here tonight?"
Sherlock's voice is exhausted but affectionate when he replies, "Of course, John." Something in his gaze tells John that he maybe understands. Maybe he understands that John would not be able to sleep anywhere else tonight. Sherlock's eye closes and he shifts, settling deeper into the bed.
John sits.
Sherlock sleeps.
John finally makes himself look at Sherlock. His dark curls are messier than usual. And his face is weary. He has cuts that have barely started healing, but it's him. It's Sherlock. And he has come back.
John thinks that maybe they can work through this, together. When he gets up from the bed, Sherlock inhales. John turns back to see him staring. His hand stretches toward him.
The doctor moves onto the bed, facing Sherlock. They don't touch.
Sherlock's eyes close and his face relaxes. He seems to be asleep in seconds.
John stares at him. Stares at the curls dipping low on his forehead. They lay dark against the pillow. John breathes. He goes to sleep.
John startles awake, gripping the sheets with one hand, and Sherlock's hip with the other.
Sherlock is tense and staring back at him, breathing fast. His mouth is barely open. His eyes flick around the room and return.
His breaths slow and he reaches for John's hand and brings it to his neck. John can feel his pulse. The doctor in him says that it's slightly elevated. John ignores that. Sherlock keeps his hand in place and closes his eyes.
John strokes Sherlock's throat. He thinks he can go sleep now with no nightmares. He thinks it'll be alright now. John closes his eyes.