John spent the rest of the night in his room. He spent the greater part of a few hours trying to focus on a book though he kept getting distracted. At one point he heard the flat door open and knew Sherlock had returned though he didn't hear much else noise after he entered. Sherlock often didn't make a lot of noise and this could either be a good or a bad thing; right now John just chose to ignore it. He lay back on his bed and tried to finish the rest of the book.
When he had finally finished, taking about double the amount of time it should have, he decided to go to the kitchen for some tea. When he walked out of his room and into the living room on the way to the kitchen, he paused. Sherlock was in the living room changing from one shirt to another. When he spotted John standing in the doorway he turned his back quickly as he struggled to quickly do up the buttons, but it hadn't been quick enough for John to not only see the flush of red on his face but the injuries that dotted his chest. Across Sherlock's chest he had three large red scars. They weren't so fresh that they should still be covered with bandages, but new enough that John knew Sherlock had gotten them recently. The scars were deep and the cuts had obviously been made quickly and done by someone who was not a surgeon. John was sure that the cuts had been made to remove bullets. John could only guess that the situation had been horrible.
Suddenly, John felt something that he hadn't felt since Sherlock had returned; guilt. Ever since Sherlock had returned John had felt the need to be angry with Sherlock; because he had left him, because he had lied to him, because he didn't feel the same thing that John did. He hadn't taken one second to consider what Sherlock had been through. It was unreasonable on his part of expect some sort of emotional reaction on Sherlock's part; that simply wasn't who Sherlock was. But that didn't mean that Sherlock hadn't been to hell and back. It wasn't until today with the sight of Sherlock's ghastly weight loss and fresh bullet scars that John considered that he had been through something quite terrible. John didn't want to think about kind of situation had put Sherlock in a place where he'd had to have had bullets removed in an emergency someplace that wasn't a hospital. John knew that Sherlock had said that he had to get rid of Morarity's people, but he had never considered Sherlock had been in severe danger. That he had may have actually killed people. Suddenly his heart hurt for his friend.
"Must you stare at me?" Sherlock asked in an impatient voice as he pulled his dressing gown closed around him. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
John realized how long he must have stared Sherlock while thinking all this through. Considering he had walked in on Sherlock changing, he must be embarrassed; Sherlock was, after all, very modest. John averted his eyes. "Nothing, sorry" he mumbled. He quickly walked off to the kitchen. He made tea; two cups this time.
When John walked into the living room on the way to his own room, Sherlock was sitting on the couch staring out the window. The moon shone in through the window and landed on Sherlock's face. John didn't see the careful gaze of his friend observing or the distant gaze he normally had when deep in thought. His eyes moved around almost as if searching for something; almost as if he were lost.
John placed the extra tea cup on the table in front of Sherlock though he still continued to look out the window.
"Listen, uh…." John cleared his throat uncomfortably " Sherlock, I know I've been acting weird lately, and um, I'm sorry. This is all very strange for me, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you"
Sherlock was still not looking at John which only increased his feeling like an idiot, but John continued anyway. " Uh, by the way" he said, " I am glad that you are back. I know that it didn't seem that way, with me punching you and all, but I am." John really wished Sherlock would say something or at least look at him. On second thought, maybe it was easier this way. " And, I just wanted to let you know if you'd like to talk about it, you can"
Finally Sherlock turned away from the window and looked at John " Talk about what?" he asked.
"Anything really" John said, " I know a lot must have happened to you since Moriarty and all"
"Why would I need to talk to you?" Sherlock asked. He asked it like it was strangest thing to actually want to talk to someone. Which for Sherlock, maybe it was. John wanted to push him, to mention his scars. But if he knew one thing about Sherlock it was that if you pushed him he always retreated further into himself. And that was the last thing he wanted.
"Don't know" John said, " Just offering" he took his tea and turned away towards his room, leaving Sherlock in his thoughts; whatever they were.
…
Over the next few weeks John and Sherlock fell into a somewhat 'normal' pattern of living. John continued his work at the doctor's office and Sherlock began to do some consulting with the police, though it was still somewhat 'secretive' since the fallout was still blowing over. John stood his ground and didn't go with Sherlock to the station the day that he went back, though he often kicked himself for not doing it. He could picture in his head Sherlock strolling in like he owned the place, not noticing people spilling their coffee and staring open mouthed at him as he walked by. Lestrade was surprised, of course but more than anything he was eager to have Sherlock back. Because of how things had ended, with Sherlock's arrest on suspicion of kidnaping and then escaping with a stolen gun pointed at John, most were not happy to see Sherlock. Lestrade assured Sherlock that he was doing his best to clear things up, but for the time being Sherlock was doing his best to consult from a distance.
While things were falling more into a normal pattern, John still didn't feel great about how things were. Things weren't how they had been at all before, and while he and Sherlock were friendly with each other, they still lived with each other like strangers. They didn't talk much and their activities often put them at home at different times. The times that Sherlock was at home he had his nose in a book or his eye at a microscope. John was glad for this; he could see the light return to Sherlock's eyes as he found purpose and meaning in a case. Sherlock was only really happy when he was working on a case and John could see that Sherlock was returning to a place where he was happy again.
But things still weren't normal, for John or Sherlock. John didn't fee completely himself. He had cleaned up the flat and was taking better care of himself, keeping up on the cleaning and laundry. He was eating more and drinking less but he still wasn't back to his normal habits. His limp was gone for the most part but some days it still bothered him and he would rely on the cane if Sherlock wasn't around to see it. The flat was crowded and John knew it wasn't fair for Sherlock to have no place of his own but John didn't know how to address this issue yet. John was finding that his work, which had always been a distraction, was now not holding the same appeal it once had. When John would come home and see Sherlock working on something, he felt the pull to ask him about it, felt his interest in the case piquing. But Sherlock didn't really talk to John about his new cases or anything really, and so John didn't ask. When Sherlock would fly out the door in a mad dash John would feel that same excited pull that he felt when he first watched Sherlock dash out the door when going to see the pink lady in their very first case, but Sherlock never asked him to come now.
And while John was assured that Sherlock was feeling better and seemed happier, he knew that Sherlock wasn't himself either. The fact that Sherlock hardly ever talked was not normal; Sherlock was not a social person but he did like to share his deductions and now he rarely talked, even about a case. He was still skinny and not eating enough to compensate for his apparent weight loss (he supposed Sherlock stealing his food was an isolated incident) and he seemed to be sleeping more than usual. That wasn't to say that he was sleeping a lot; he was sleeping everyday but it still might only be for an hour a day. But John still found it strange; Sherlock never slept during a case. He might go for days at a time without sleeping and then crash when a case was over. He was also doing things that just seemed…..strange. Sometimes John would come home and find Sherlock lying on the floor staring straight up at the ceiling. When asked when he was doing Sherlock would simply say, "Leave me alone". When John left him Sherlock might stay this way for another hour or two before getting up. Nearly every day John would wake up to hear Sherlock playing his violin; Sherlock playing his violin was nothing strange but it was strange that he was playing it so often. It was always a sad, depressing, dark tune and when John would emerge from his room Sherlock would turn around and snap at him, "Thanks for interrupting me". Sherlock had also taken to making a habit of taking walks in the evening, though always returning before dark. He would often return just before nightfall, sometimes out of a breath and somewhat panicked it seemed. John wasn't sure why he was acting so strange, but he knew something was amiss.
One night, a few weeks after Sherlock's return, John awoke in the middle of the night. Strange enough he had not awoken due to a nightmare. John rolled over and pulled the covers up to his chin, planning to immediately go back to sleep when he heard Sherlock's voice from the living room calling his name. He would have dismissed it (Sherlock often bugged him in the middle of the night) except that it sounded strange. Sherlock's voice didn't sound natural; he sounded upset, panicked.
"John!" Sherlock's voice called again. "John!"
"Coming, Sherlock!" John called as he threw back the covers and went to the door.
Maybe Sherlock's going to show some of his humanity? Comments are much appreciated!