"Why would talking to myself help me solve any problems?" Sherlock asks skeptically as he looks at the image of John. "I would have done just as well on my own, here.." He points out as he motions toward the plush carpet and richly decorated hallway that holds the rooms on emotional matters.
John chuckles a little and smiles as he looks out of the window for a few moments. "You would have been talking to yourself anyway. Frankly, I'm kind of pissed at being ignored for so long." He says as he glances at Sherlock. "You are basically a bloody Vulcan. And yes, you've absorbed more popular culture than you'd like to believe. You've suppressed your emotions, and any desires that go with it. You think they're useless but they're not." He points out as he looks at Sherlock. "You understand emotions but you don't feel them." Poking the younger man in the chest, he sighs a little and shakes his head. "It's a very lonely way to live your life."
Normally Sherlock's response would be to tell John how he lives his life is none of his business. But since this John is apparently a manifestation of his subconscious, it really is his business in a way. That's frustrating. Instead, he just frowns at him, clasping his hands behind his back. "I am not that effective at suppressing my emotions. Otherwise you wouldn't be here, and I would not be here seeking answers." He points out as he watches the other man, getting restless before he starts to walk down the corridor slowly.
Turning to follow, John shakes his head for a few moments. "Don't lie to yourself, Sherlock." He says with a little chuckle as he follows the detective, looking around for a few moments. "Why don't you tell me what you came here for? You had questions, right?" he asks as he looks at Sherlock.
"John is bothersome." Sherlock says simply, glancing over at the facsimile next to him. "Caring is not an advantage. I have not known him long, but when he almost died, I was.. afraid." he says quietly as he continues walking, not really having a destination in mind. "I was very distraught at the idea of John dying. When he's in pain it worries me. I cannot focus on the Work." he says with frustration, shaking his head for a few moments. "And it's my fault John is like this. This must be what my brother meant when he said caring is not an advantage. But I can't put aside my friendship with John." He says in a frustrated tone, stepping through a doors onto a balcony that look out over a garden that surrounds the palace, and beyond that is a broken and scarred landscape.
Following him outside, John crosses his arms over his chest. "Then don't. Don't put it aside." He says simply, shrugging. "You need to deal with your feelings and accept them. You are worried because you care about John's well being. You care about someone." He emphasizes to make sure the point hits home with Sherlock, leaning forward a little to look at him. "It's not a sin. There's no shame in caring about someone." He points out again as he continues to watch the detective. Sighing and shaking his head, the shorter man tries to figure out how to convince Sherlock's logical mind. "You should embrace your friendship with John. He's already been beneficial to the Work, right? You haven't passed out from hunger since he started living with you, you don't collapse in general. Therefore, having him around and having him as a friend is beneficial to you. And it follows that if he's beneficial to you, he is even more beneficial to the Work. And you're all about the Work." He points out with a slightly smug expression.
Sherlock seriously considers everything his subconscious mind, in the form of the very problem that brought him here, has just told him. And it does all seem to make a certain sense. Having John around has been beneficial. And having him around means having him as a friend. Perhaps all of his stress is over nothing, then, and he should do as his subconscious suggests and just embrace the fact that he has someone to care about and someone who is willing to put up with him. Slowly, he turns toward the smaller man, watching him for a few moments. "Maybe you're right, John. Having a friend isn't detrimental to the Work. I believe I will do all I can to keep this friendship."
Unfortunately no other conversation can be had, because he hears something going on in the real world that pulls Sherlock out of his Mind Palace. It's not until he opens his eyes though that he realizes the sound is coming from his bedroom. Getting up a little stiffly, Sherlock stretches briefly before he hurries down the hall to his bedroom, tilting his head as he pushes open the door, only to find John - the real John - asleep, but apparently with the beginnings of a nightmare. It's possible that between the injuries and being a partial invalid again it brought up some old memories. In the hospital the drugs probably kept him sedated enough, but the ones that he was given prescriptions for were not as strong, at John's own request. He didn't want to risk getting addicted to stronger opiates. That, and he was afraid of having them around Sherlock.
Concerned that he might pull out the stitches that he has or hurt himself further, Sherlock moves over to the bed and he hesitates, sitting on the edge. "John." He says in a firm tone, reaching out to grasp the older man's shoulders and give him a firm little shake. "John!"
With a gasp, John wakes up, arms coming up to grab onto Sherlock's as his head lifts up off the pillow, though thankfully the detective's arms keep him in place otherwise. "Sherlock..?" he says in a surprised, breathless tone as he stares up at the younger man. Taking a few deep breaths which make him wince a little each time but are necessary to him calming down, John tries to settle his mind, eyes darting around the room and taking in his surroundings to convince himself that he is safe at Baker Street.
"It's alright, John. You're in Baker Street. You're safe." Sherlock reassures, waiting until he's sure that John has settled more before he releases the doctor's shoulders and sits up a little more. Thinking of something he might be able to do that he's seen on the tellie, he gets up and goes to the bathroom, coming back with a damp, cool cloth to wipe the sweat off of John's forehead slowly, eyebrows drawn together in a very concerned look.
Caught off-guard by the caring gesture coming from Sherlock of all people, John is completely distracted from his nightmare as he frowns up at Sherlock. "What are you doing?" he asks in surprise, even if it might feel good, though it's not like he can move away with his ribs in the condition that they are.
"Isn't this right?" Sherlock asks, truly uncertain as he stops the motions. "I saw it on a show once, it seemed a suitable way to comfort.." he says slowly as he considers it. "I doubt talking about it will help, but if you wish you could do that as well." he decides, while he sounds a little bored or dismissive.
John shakes his head a little, slowly. "No, it's fine.." He says quietly with a light chuckle. "Just wasn't expecting that sort of thing from you." He says quietly with another little smile and a slow shake of his head, looking a little amused before he winces, putting a hand over his bandaged side.
"Yes, that was quite obvious." Sherlock says before he hesitates, turning the cloth around in his hand for a moment before he reaches out to wipe a fresh spot over John's forehead again slowly once the older man says that it's alright.
"Well. You are my friend, John. It's the least I can do to help."
Sherlock's mind works in mysterious ways. :) So cute though! Sometimes Sherlock just needs a little kick. I think someone else may need to bring some fresh air in the next chapter. Maybe Mrs. Hudson or somebody. :)
Reviews/comments welcome!
