Hugs
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or anything.
Sherlock woke up and found John lying wide awake next to him with a sad look in his eye. But as soon as he saw Sherlock lean up on an elbow above him his facial expression changed to a small smile.
"Morning, love." He said.
Sherlock smiled and gave him a peck on the lips. But the kiss went no further as Sherlock's phone vibrated on his side table. Sherlock groaned but opened the message.
At the look on Sherlock's face John asked "Lestrade? Got a new case?" he asked.
Sherlock nodded "A triple murder in three different places in London, none of them have the faintest idea, as usual, but I haven't had a case in a few days." Sherlock said and jumped up. He got dressed into him immaculate and brilliantly fitting suit. He looked down at John and frowned.
"Are you not coming?" he asked.
"No, thanks, I'm tired." John forced his voice to remain steady and his voice to remain neutral.
Sherlock nodded, texted back to Lestrade and then slipped is phone back into his pocket.
"But call me if you need me." John said "and be careful." He added.
Sherlock smiled and kissed John one last time before heading out the bedroom door "I'll see you later." The curly haired man called. "I love you!" he said louder.
John gave a small smile and said "I love you too."
He heard Sherlock run gracefully down the stairs and then the door opened and closed. John took a deep breath and told himself to toughen up.
John spent most of the day doing the washing up, changing the bedding, cleaning the house as much as he could. But by two o'clock he didn't know what to do. He wanted to keep busy, it helped keep his mind off of things. But everything he did reminded him of what day it was.
So he rang Sherlock and asked him where he was and he quickly made his way to the third crime scene.
When he arrived he was pointed to the room where Lestrade, Donavon, Anderson, Sherlock and two other officers and 1 forensic woman stood. John walked over to Sherlock and stood close to the thinking man and took comfort in his warmth.
Sherlock was the same old Sherlock, insulting Anderson and thinking faster than anybody else. John wasn't same old John, he was quiet, he let Sherlock insult people and he didn't comment on Sherlock's brilliant deductions.
"So, Anderson, if you can shut up that would be a relief for everyone within a one mile radius. I am right, those footprints are not the murderers and John if you would be so kind as to tell me what on Earth is wrong because I am completely lost on why you feel so sad." Sherlock said.
John jumped out of his daze and said "What?"
Sherlock sighed and turned to face John and took one of his husband's hands.
"What's wrong? You're sad, I don't understand, I don't remember doing anything wrong recently." Sherlock said with a frown.
"No, it has nothing to do with you, Sherlock!" John said immediately, cutting off Sherlock's false perceptions.
"Then what, love, you look so sad." Sherlock said, looking into John's eyes.
"It's... my dad." John said and swallowed the lump in his throat.
"He's dead, isn't he, died when you were in Afghanistan?" Sherlock asked.
John felt his eyes tearing up "He died five years ago today." John choked on his words as he said them.
Sherlock tilted his head and had a look of complete concern on his face. He pulled John into a hug, wrapping his husband up in a cocoon of security and warmth. John was silently crying. And everybody knows that if you're crying silently it's because you just can't stop. His shoulders shook and he gripped onto Sherlock's coat like he never wanted to let go.
"I'm sorry, I forgot... I was so excited about the new case that I forgot." Sherlock said and rubbed circles into John's back while Lestrade ushered everyone out of the room. Sherlock sent him a grateful smile as Lestrade pushed Anderson out and shut the door behind them both.
"It's... okay. I just wanted it to be like a normal day. I didn't want to think about it. I th-thought that if I kept b-busy I w-w-would be okay." John said.
"Ssshh, it's alright. I'll take you home. You can ring your mum; Harry won't be a good person to call at the moment. Then we can have a good old cuddle in front of the telly until we fall asleep." Sherlock said.
"You'll do that for me? But what about the case?" John asked into Sherlock's jacket.
"The case is not important. You are, and of course I will do anything for you." Sherlock said.
Within twenty minutes they were in 221b baker street, their home. John rang his mum and spoke to her quickly while Sherlock let him sit on his lap. Sherlock rubbed his back and played with the hair at the nape of John's neck. After a long conversation John said goodbye and put the phone down. Sherlock brought their pyjama's and duvet down and soon they were cuddled up on the sofa with Doctor Who on the telly.
"My dad was a bit like doctor who." John said as tears ran down his face and he snuggled further into Sherlock's chest and kept his eyes on the mad man on the telly.
"How so?" Sherlock asked, watching John.
"He never stopped. He used to play with me in the garden for hours after school until mum called us in. I remember... he used to pick me up and spin me around until we got all dizzy. And even when I got too big to pick up he'd greet me with a hug and spin me around on the spot. He was really funny. A bit bonkers, but I loved that about him. He was so... proud when I joined the army as a doctor. He was always so proud of me... and Harry, whatever we did, he'd always be there, to watch us triumph and catch us when we fell." John said and sobbed, looking away from the doctor and buried his face in Sherlock's shirt.
"He sounds brilliant." Sherlock smiled.
"He was." John regained some of his composure to finish his speech.
"He's where I get my attraction to danger and trouble from. He was always getting into trouble, a bit of an overgrown child. He loved a good joke, my dad. He never shouted either, but we always knew when he was angry because he'd go all quiet. But that wasn't very often, always so calm. We used to do so much together, he was always my dad but he was also my best friend, because I trusted him more than anybody. When I told mum I was going to Afghanistan she was so worried, she told me not to, said that I had to get out of it. But dad sat in his chair and just said 'I was right, all those years ago, you are our brave soldier.' That was what I needed to hear, that support. And then I went out and a while later I got told that he... that he'd died in his sleep, all peaceful they said. And they said that I could go home for the funeral. But I didn't. I knew that he wanted me to stay. When my pet dog died he said that if you love someone they never really die. They're in my heart forever. He wasn't dead. He's still with me in my heart." John said and closed his eyes, picturing his dad. When he imagined his dad he never saw him as an old man. He saw Hamish Watson, young and smiling, with his laughter lines etched into his face, his kind smile and eyes and the sandy hair. He saw him at his best.
Sherlock kissed John's forehead and pulled him closer.
"Do you need anything?" he asked.
John gave a true smile and looked into his husband's eyes.
"You're all I will ever need." John said and settled down into another warm hug.
Author's note: I hope you enjoyed it, I know it was sad, the next one I will try to make happier. Please review! Thanks!
