Trigger Warnings for this chapters: Mentions of voilence (off screen?) and disfigurement (all of these are just to be safe. I am always trying to look out for people, so if you see anything that needs to be tagged, let me know, please).
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. I just love him to pieces and torment him mercilessly.
Special Thanks: QueenLadyAnne, my extremely thoughtful and extraordinary beta.
John and Sherlock are incredibly happy with their new-found relationship. Things only got awkward when they arrived back at Baker Street and an unspoken, ' Now what? ' screams out at them in their silence. The amorous pair dance around each other without knowing quite how to just come together and be. They have cuddled on the sofa and they hold hands, but John seems to have shied back on more physical aspects of their relationship. At first, Sherlock thought John was having second thoughts, but by the way John's eyes would linger on cupid-bowed lips, Sherlock could deduce the obvious attraction. The detective wants more. He wants to kiss John and hold him and be held by him when they fall asleep at night. He wants everything John will willingly give him.
It's not until Sherlock goes to Mrs. Hudson's flat one late January evening that he notices an inconspicuous hint of shriveled up green and white taped against the doorframe, forgotten when Mrs. Hudson cleaned the rest of her Christmas decorations up, that he gets an idea. With Mrs. Hudson's emphatic approval, he travels back up the seventeen steps leading up to 221B, pauses just outside the door, takes a deep breath, and enters in. His John is standing at the stove preparing two celebratory cups of tea because today the divorce was finalized, however, he pauses as he feels Sherlock's body heat seep into the back of his beige jumper.
He turns toward the detective and leans against the counter and reaches out a warm hand to rest against Sherlock's forearm as he inquires, "Do you want anything, love?" Slowly, Sherlock nods his head and blushes deeply as John's smile only grows fonder; however, Sherlock doesn't move or speak as he seems to wage an internal war about what to say.
John doesn't mind, an adoring smile spreads across his features as the older man can't help but notice how adorable Sherlock is, but this thought is immediately derailed when Sherlock extends a long, lanky arm to hold something over their heads. When John looks up, he notices the same familiar flash of mistletoe that once initiated their first kiss.
The detective quickly leans in and kisses John's cheek before withdrawing anxiously to await John's response. John, however, quickly erases any doubt that could have even began to form as he places the ebony haired man's face between his palms and kisses the other man deeply. When John finally withdraws, the tea has grown absolutely tepid, but kisses are much more important than tea any day.
A long contented sigh escapes past Sherlock's lips as a small smile spreads across his features. The other man is still amazed that this brilliant man is his. It's hard to picture Sherlock as the once cold, cruel man that once terrorized Scotland Yard. This thought causes John to become even more aware of how grateful he is that Sherlock came back to him, that he came home. Gentle hands shift to the side of a pale neck and down long arms to bony hips as he draws Sherlock closer and into another kiss. The ebony haired man goes willingly and kisses back with as much enthusiasm as the very first time.
As soft kisses turn into something more heated, John's questing hands begin to roam into dark hair, grasp onto a plum colored shirt, travels down to prominent hip bones to pull Sherlock flush against him, until finally trailing up the taller man's back. At the first touch of raised, jagged skin both men tense, but it is Sherlock that withdraws completely and puts enough distance between them so that they are not touching and John would have to take five large steps to do so.
They gaze at each other in silence. Sherlock's face contorts into one of fear as he waits for John to say something. Finally, the older man points a shaking hand at the detective and swallows thickly before he forces out, "Sherlock, what the hell is that?!"
Even though he knows it's coming, Sherlock still flinches at John's tone, but he anxiously tries to explain it away by stating, "Really, John. It's nothing! You know I spent some time…away. I had a bit of a miscalculation in Siberia, but I'm fine. Mycroft helped me escape and then I came home. They stitched me up, and I was as good as new."
John's mind is racing. The older man has seen and felt those types of scars. In a war zone, men would disappear because they were kidnapped and tortured for days or weeks at a time in Afghanistan. If they returned at all, they came back scarred and broken either physically or mentally. There was something Sherlock said that causes John's breath to catch and his chest to tighten in a cold realization. When John finally does speak, it's in a choked whisper, "So, you're telling me that you were tortured for weeks, if not months, and then you came home to London and I—." He raises a trembling hand to his chest and bunches the material of his jumper in his fist tightly to ground himself before continuing, "You would have had fresh stitches, and I—my fucking god—I fucking beat you. Why—why didn't you say anything? You let me beat the hell out of you. Your back would have set up infection during your time away. You had to be in excruciating pain, and instead of welcoming you back with open arms, I hurt you. I HURT you, Sherlock."
To Sherlock's horror, John's eyes well up with tears. In an odd turn of events, instead of John embracing Sherlock to comfort the detective, as it usually would be, it's the other way around. John finds himself enveloped gently in Sherlock's arms as he traces John's spine in what he hopes is a calming manner as he tries to sooth him, "John, there's no way you could have known. It's not your fault. I had hurt you and it was foolish of me to assume that you would be completely ecstatic to see me. Obviously, you would have been hurt and angry at the deception. I don't blame you and you shouldn't blame yourself."
John withdraws enough to gaze up at Sherlock with fierce determination, "But that's still no excuse. I've begged to any god that would listen to bring you back to me and instead of being grateful, I hurt you in so many ways. I'm so sorry, Sherlock."
The Consulting Detective is at a loss for words and because of that, he can only lamely whisper that everything is alright. However, when John looks up at the detective, he notices the same wide eyed disbelief that only occurs when the detective does not comprehend that John could feel love or affection for Sherlock. The detective does not fight the other man as he wraps the taller man in a cautious embrace. He silently promises to take better care of his madman's heart in the future because it is still so fragile.
They stand there, embracing, for several minutes until finally, John presses a kiss against the bullet wound—that Mary left behind—through the cotton shirt before gently asking, "May I see?" The detective can feel panic rising in his chest, but he manages to get out a breathless sounding, "Why?"
Because I want to see you… Because I want to make sure—" ' that you're okay, that you're really here with me, that you're mine and they can't take you away from me again,' is left unsaid, but Sherlock hears it anyway.
Sherlock steps back and begins to slowly unbutton his plumb colored shirt with only a slight hesitation until he can finally shrug it off his shoulders. He pauses once more to take one last calming gulp of air before turning slowly and baring his back to John for the first time since his return. Silence. The detective tries desperately to remain standing there without running away to hide. John, however, is trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to fall.
There is so much damage there, so much anger and hatred is littered across once perfect skin. John steps forward, reaches his hand out to touch the angry, raised skin, but stops himself just inches before skin can touch skin. Eventually, he rests gentle hand against the detective's back—afraid of more damage being done—and begins caressing the crisscross scars that travel down the expanse of the other man's back. Softly , gently, John begins kissing each and every inch of damaged tissue.
Sherlock raises a trembling hand to his mouth and presses against it firmly to keep any sound that might escape as tears begin to fall. Every other kiss is littered with whispered thank yous and I'm sorrys . ' We're slowly healing each other,' Sherlock realizes. That is not to say that everything will be perfect. There will still be questions, but right now, this is a time for healing and reaffirming and for love.
As John finishes with Sherlock's back, he gently turns the detective around and hugs him as if he's something precious and something fragile. Two callused, worn hands gently cup angular features and thumbs continuously sweep underneath eyes to wipe away tears as he goes up on tiptoes to lay tender kisses against cupid bowed lips. When the tears have been expelled and they are standing together kissing softly, John withdraws, takes Sherlock's hand, and begins leading Sherlock to his bedroom. They travel up the stairs and when they finally stand together in this safe-haven, John begins to take off his jumper and then his shirt to reveal still toned flesh. There, resting just on his left shoulder, lies a starburst scar depicting a time of his own pain and suffering.
He draws Sherlock hand up to his chest and rests it over his scar and presses the pale palm firmly onto the damaged tissue. Sherlock draws John's hand to his chest and lays the calloused digits against his own bullet wound. They gaze at each other in silence for several moments before John steps forward until there is little space between them, Their hands never once leave the other. The sandy haired man smiles softly at Sherlock before stating, "You know, I've always hated this," he states indicating his scarred shoulder, "but slowly, I began to realize it's one of the best things that's ever happened to me. Even though I have gone through so much pain and suffering and loss, I wouldn't trade a single moment of it because it gave me the best thing I could ever ask for. It brought me to you and because of that, I would do it all over again. I would choose you every time, Sherlock."
The detective has to swallow several times to get the knot in his throat to loosen enough to speak, he clears his throat softly, and takes a deep breath before stating, "John, I will never regret you. I know now that my absence hurt you, but I would do it all over again because it would mean that you are safe and alive. I would rather have you angry with me for the rest of your life than to lose you forever to death. Knowing you were alive was enough to keep me going when I had nothing else. No matter the pain or torture that I had to go through, you were the one thing keeping me going. I wanted you to be alive and happy, even if you never wanted to see me after that day. I am still so thankful that you came back to me, and I will try to live my life every day in a way that deserves that."
John finally can't bear whatever remaining distance between them and crushes their bodies together in a fierce embrace. He draws his hands up and down Sherlock's scarred back, thanking any deity that Sherlock came back and that they are finally together after all this time. Softly, John gazes up at the taller man and nuzzles against his face gently, but leans back enough to seriously state, "I can't go through that a second time, Sherlock. Promise me—." He has to stop for a moment to regain his composure before continuing, "Promise me you won't leave without me again. If you leave again, I won't be able to survive it. Please, promise me."
Sherlock crushes their bodies together this time and adamantly and wholeheartedly promises. It nearly killed him, too. They had spent too much time apart. Eventually, they strip down to nothing but their pants (embarrassed flushes from Sherlock flash brilliantly across his pale features the entire time) and cuddle together in a fort of blankets and pillows. Hesitantly, John asks Sherlock to tell him of his time in Siberia and in their safe haven of John's bedroom, Sherlock finally explains the pain and torture he has gone through during his time away. He begins by telling John of why he jumped in the first place and finishes by returning home to London. Many tears and whispered encouragements and many kisses are shared continuously throughout the entirety of the story, and through it all, they never let go of the other. They were both safe now and they love each other completely.
Just before John falls asleep, the older man hears a very quiet, "I love you," pressed against his temple. With a soft, small, and tender kiss pressed against the other man's bare chest, he gently whispers back, "I love you, too."
Really, it shouldn't be this easy, should it? Sherlock is supposed to be smarter than this, right? In this game of chess, he is definitely losing. He showed his heart and he let it rule his head. One by one his pieces will fall until nothing is left. This is almost too easy. How predictable.
How... boring .
Check.
The time is arriving. Soon . The clock ticks down to doomsday. Sentiment will be his downfall and it will only cause his destruction. Slowly, everything he has ever loved will burn with him. All the king's horses and all the king's men won't be able to put Sherlock together again. Oh, this is going to be such fun .
Fingers type in a line of code and hit send. Across every electronic device and every form of social media one terrifying message is displayed, " Did you miss me?"
Check Mate .
Notes: Do you see what I'm doing with the chapters? I think I'm being clever, but I'm probably not. ^_^;
I wanted them to talk about the scars. As far as I know season four didn't give us a lot of things INCLUDING the scars. We know he's disfigured. WE KNOW. But they didn't talk about it, so I did. I was tired of that. That's part of the reason why this is not season four compliant. The only thing good we received was The Hug. That's it. Everything else was just painful and I was so sorry for my child (Sherlock, if you didn't know). I'm still upset about it. So anyway, that's why it's not season four compliant. I had several ideas about what season four was going to be like AND IT WAS NONE OF THOSE THINGS. I'm moving on before this get's any longer. Goodness...
Anyway, I'm so surprised about the amount of people reading my other works. Since this is an ongoing fic, I'll talk about it here. I can't help but ask myself every time a lovely message or kudo flashes across my email why you all like my older work so much? It's awful. I reread it and cringe. I commend you for your bravery and I thank you as sincerely as I can muster for giving me your time and patience. Thank you.
Off to other things. Happy belated, belated Valentine's Day! I hope you enjoy this chapter! As always happy reading!
P.S. To GobletCharm74 and the lovely Guest reader, thank you so much for your lovely comments. I was in such a bad place this week and getting your reviews meant so much to me. I'm glad you are enjoying the chapters! Thank you, thank you, thank you for being so lovely to me. P.S.S. Thank you to all of you who are reading and commenting. It makes me feel so happy that you are enjoying this story and are giving me a chance. I feel truly honored. Thank you :)
