When I'm Gone
Chapter 10
Sherlock heard John coming into the flat and shout his name. He decided to not get out of the shower, just to see where it would lead. He was feeling a bit cruel, now that he was willingly becoming more and more human.
"Sherlock?" John's voice carried into the bedroom. "Sherlock where are you?"
Sherlock was surprised John didn't hear the water flowing from the shower head, but still decided to stay quiet and keep pondering over this new...mortality, so it was to him.
"Sherlock, seriously where are you?" he could hear John in the bedroom.
'Getting warmer. Come on, John, think. Use your head, or maybe your ears.' Sherlock thought.
"Sherlock? Wait, you're in the shower, aren't you? I'll just...be right outside then."
'There you go.' He thought. He got out of the shower and wrapped himself in a towel, and went into his room. He saw John on the bed and jumped.
"Oh. This is what you meant by outside...,"
"I-I can leave," he stammered. It had never occurred to Sherlock that this was the first time he hadn't had a shirt on around John. Come to think of it, it was the first time he didn't really have pants on either. Sherlock was indifferent to it, not really caring too much about what John thought.
"You can stay, I don't care, really." He blew it off with such nonchalance that he saw John's face fall a bit. He didn't realise that it would take this quickly for John to forgive him and trust him again. "John, do you forgive me already?" he asked the first thing on his mind, not really minding any response he got.
"Yeah, I do. You're my best friend, Sherlock, even if you are a complete git most of the time. I trust you and you told me the truth, everything I wanted to know. Yeah, of course I forgive you."
Sherlock went over to his dresser and put on some trousers and a shirt, walked over to John and sat down.
"Why? I left you. You trust me too easily." he got up with a smirk and left John to ponder it a bit. He had to admit, he was having a bit of fun now that he had gotten used to feeling emotion, even if it was a sadistic, cruel feeling.
John followed him out into the kitchen and grabbed a box of take away and sat down at the table. He sat there, looking at John, wondering what to make of him. He was trusting, loyal for sure, but as he couldn't with the Woman, he could not deduce John as well. Was it because he was attracted to him? He was interested in the Woman, that was why he couldn't deduce her. He saw John as almost an equal. Someone who he wouldn't get bored with, someone to keep up with him. Maybe that was why. He wasn't ordinary.
They ate in silence, each of them looking at the other once in a while. It was still such a new and awkward atmosphere for them both. Usually Sherlock would get up from the table, sit down on his bed and go through his mind palace looking for things to delete, but now he had to wait for John, who, while it was okay for that to happen, it was bothersome and sort of tedious. He lived a fast paced life and couldn't be bothered with such insignificance.
"Should we go out tonight?" said John.
"Why would we do that?"
"Better than sitting here watching crap telly, don't you think?"
"Let's walk, John."
Both of them got up from the table, got on their coats, Sherlock a scarf, and headed out the door. At this time, Mrs. Hudson had been walking out the trash, and came back in just in time to see Sherlock coming out. She looked up at him and tears formed in her eyes.
"Sherlock? Is that you?" she said, her voice cracking a bit.
He looked at her, his eyes full of sympathy, and said calmly to her, "Yes, Mrs. Hudson. It's me." And he took her into his arms.
"Sherlock, I thought you were dead. Oh don't scare me like that, I was so upset." She hit him across the arm, lightly of course, and walked him inside. John followed them in.
"John would never shut up about you, shall I make you both some tea?"
"No-"
"Yes, that would be lovely, thank you Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock looked at John, knowing he would stop talking immediately. Of course, when he looked, John became silent.
"...thought you were dead, I even had to have Mycroft over to console him. John would always have something to say about you, I could never get him off you." She walked in with three cups and winked at John as he blushed red. She sat across from Sherlock and gave him a look of gratitude that he echoed back at her.
"I'm glad to have come back. It was awful. I need a new life. No. What I need is a case. John, shall we go over to Lestrade and ask him for one?"
"Sherlock, it's nine in the evening. We should just wait until tomorrow." John sighed, exasperated from the day's events.
Sherlock looked at him, a new gleam in his eyes, one of a game, of a hunt. He wanted a case, and he wanted it now. He was bored. Couldn't John see that? Or was he just wanting Sherlock to himself?
'Everyday you would come talk to Mrs. Hudson about me John?' Sherlock smirked to himself, finding all this new information about John. Mrs. Hudson went on to explain how everyone was after his death, doting on John and Lestrade the most. John blushed when she would talk about him, and Sherlock saw every one of his weaknesses, and promised himself not to use them against John, no matter how sadistic he was feeling right now.
John finally had to leave, and so he got up and put the cup in the sink. "I think it's time we head out, yeah? Sherlock?"
"Right, yes, of course John."
Sherlock got up, hugged Mrs. Hudson, and headed out the door, him following John this time. They went outside to continue, well begin really, their walk.
"John, why were you so anxious in Mrs. Hudson's flat?" of course he knew, but he wouldn't let on that he did.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"John, the entire street could see you blush."
"Sherlock, just to let you know, Mrs. Hudson is exaggerating. I was not in everyday to talk about you."
"I believe you, John, I have no doubt." he did know John was telling the truth, Mrs. Hudson did like to tell a story.
They walked up a couple of streets, up to Sherlock's old flat, and walked in.
"So this is where you stalked me?" John said.
"Not stalked, no," This time it was Sherlock's turn to blush, "I merely watched you from afar, just until you got the note, I suppose." They both laughed and John sat on the bed.
"You don't have a lot of things then?"
"No, only what I needed, I packed in a case," He opened his closet and packed his clothes in it again. "I suppose I shouldn't just assume. Do you want me back in 221B?"
"Yes of course, why wouldn't I? I mean do you want to be back? I can understand if you don-," John rambled on and looked down when Sherlock cut him off.
"John, I want to be back, if I didn't, I would have stayed here and never have talked to you. I want to move back in. Do you want me there?"
"Well, of course I do."
"Good. Then let's go home." Sherlock said with a warm smile on his face. He knew John would want him back, but he did want to see how John would react to the question.
The pair left, walked outside and hailed a cab. They both didn't feel like walking with the case, and so they got in the cab and left. Sherlock took a moment to pause and take it all in. He could feel John's eyes on him the entire ride home. The cab stopped, and Sherlock got out while John paid the cabbie, just like old times.
They walked into 221B and Sherlock put his case down in his room and started unpacking. It was ten now.
"Aren't you in the least bit tired?"
"No, not really."
John yawned, "If you don't mind, I'm going to go to bed. Don't leave me."
Sherlock snapped up at that. He said "don't leave me". Not just to leave, but to leave John. What context did that have. He looked over his shoulder at John, and saw his face, mouth in a line, forehead scrunched and eyebrows raised. He had a look of pity in his eyes, as he silently pleaded for Sherlock to not only stay, but stay with him.
"I would never leave." he said in response, intentionally leaving out the "you".
He got into pyjamas, and lay down on the bed. He was in no way tired, but he felt the need to sleep upon him as he became lost in his thoughts.
"Don't leave me." he repeated John's words, searching for every sign, every bit of flirtation. He was in no way trying to lead John on, but getting a feel for having any type of emotion. He figured he needed a little practice with empathy before he was ready for any kind of attachment, but figured that was something for tomorrow. He would also go to Lestrade, take whatever beating he deserved at the Yard, and get a case. He let his eyes shut close and gave himself over to unconsciousness.