Author's Note:
Things start to get better this chapter.
Sherlock slept until the next day in his drug induced sleep. At first he was disoriented and confused until it all came back to him as soon as he shifted with a grimace of pain. It took him a moment to realize Lestrade was in the room. Why wasn't John here instead? Shit. He hurt all over. He fixed his one eye on the Detective Inspector. He wasn't supposed to be talking. He sighed his frustration, hoping Gregory would notice him. It was hard to tell from his vantage point but it looked like his brother-in-law was sleeping.
Well, sleeping in a chair certainly hadn't been the best of ideas, had it? But the night had been rough, he had seen the sacrifice of a parent for his children...and he'd hopefully found Sherlock. He groaned and shifted in the chair, rolling his head to either side to see if it would help relieve the tension in his neck, and looked at the figure in the bed. That...well, eye. The other one was swollen shut but there was no mistaking that gaze. "Sherlock, oh God." He grinned with relief, instantly pulling out his phone to send a text.
Hospital. Mugged but awake. No ID whatsoever. Could probably bring kids by later. - GL
"Thomas...he was worried and John had to keep him calm." Greg stood up and inspected his brother-in-law with a frown. "God, Sherlock..."
Sherlock managed a twisted smirk on his split lip. Thomas had been worried? John was probably pissed. Would everyone get the wrong idea about what he had been up to on that side of town? Everyone probably hated him and thought he was a failure. The truth was he hadn't even been paying attention to where he was going at the time. Would anyone believe him? He sighed at his thoughts. Maybe Lestrade would give him a pen and paper soon to try and explain. He was too tired to try and ask with his hands, despite all the sleep he had recently.
Lestrade pulled his small memo notebook from the inside of his jacket, handing off one of his pens slowly. "John tried to lie to him so he wouldn't know and...he is too smart for that, just like you." He smiled warmly and shifted on his feet. It had been positively chilling to watch John have to hold in his emotions to get their son calm. "Tell me what happened...we are all a bit worried. John knows now that we have found you."
Sherlock gave a slight nod, grimacing from the pain that small movement made. He wrote with some difficulty, his fingers busted and bruised but luckily not broken. 'Four men. Tried to just give them my wallet but I guess they read about me or saw me on the news. Knew my name. Where I lived.' He paused as it finally hit him. His family may be targeted as well because of him. He scribbled with haste. 'Everyone is okay?'
Lestrade took the information in before nodding. "All fine. Thomas is just worried. John looked worn down. Two kids will do that." He licked his lips and studied Sherlock once more. For a moment he realized how lucky he was to find the man. "Have you two talked? I mean...about moving back in and all that?" Curiosity had gotten the best of him and he couldn't help but ask.
Sherlock relaxed marginally and gave a fractional nod. He didn't really feel like talking about this with Lestrade. He wrote out a reply anyway. 'Yes, I am supposed to move back in at the end of the week." However, it was probably unlikely now. He had taken quite a beating and he doubted that the hospital would allow him to leave in a few days. He added to the paper as an afterthought, 'I will give you a detailed and more accurate story when I can talk. It will be easier, for both of us.'
Lestrade nodded again, shifting in his seat. It bugged him that Sherlock had turned back to drugs but it was Sherlock's life, wasn't it? It just made him uncomfortable, especially because he had missed it and then let his brother-in-law go. "We have got treatment plants, y'know? I mean, if you want to do one. Completely optional and such but I imagine it could help. I don't know how strong the stuff was but you will probably go through some withdraws, yeah?"
Sherlock glared at Lestrade. It was too much effort to move his whole body so his back was to the Detective Inspector, so he just turned his head away instead. He had never used a program to help him get over drugs. He preferred just dealing with the withdrawal on his own. It would make him miserable for awhile and being around him would be more insufferable than usual but he was far too stubborn and prideful to ever accept help from anyone else.
Right. Naturally Sherlock was going to be a stubborn git. "I am sorry, all right? But I'm not just looking after you anymore, am I? This isn't like a few years ago when we were both single and could sit up in your flat and wait for your withdraws to go away. We've got families now and I don't have time to protect you, even though that's John's job now... nd neither does he. He's got children to raise with you," his voice dropped off hesitantly. "I...just want to help you, all right?"
Sherlock still refused to look at Lestrade. Maybe he should stay away longer, like he had planned. He would just stay away until the drug withdrawal gradually went away. He would probably go through most of it here at the hospital anyway at this point. Assuming they took him off the damn medicine. It would mean his body would be in a world of hurt if they did, but he didn't care. He sighed at his thoughts and slowly turned to face the Detective Inspector again. He wrote on the pad of paper. 'Tell them to stop giving pain medication.'
"Stubborn git," Lestrade muttered as he nodded, despite his best instincts. He knew what was going to happen, knew how Sherlock was going to act. It wasn't going to be very pretty. "John...wants to know when he and the kids can come by. Thomas and Amy...they miss you," he whispered. It hurt seeing the family apart, watching everything happened. He hated it more than he thought he would. Hell, it wasn't even his family. "Y'know how bad you are going to hurt, right?"
Sherlock closed his eyes in though before giving a small but definitive nod of his head. He opened his eyes so he could write another note to Lestrade. 'I am well aware. They can come whenever they want. I would rather the children don't see me like this though…it might scare them. I haven't looked at myself in the mirror lately, but I am sure I look like I got run over by freight train.' He managed a small smirk at that.
"At least John? He is dying to see you. His texts are near constant," Lestrade said with a bit of a smile. "I'm sure Mrs. Hudson will watch them, she loves them to de-"
The door burst open, John panting for breath as he studied his husband. "Sherlo-" He stopped to take a deep breath, tears threatening to spill over in his eyes. "Sherlock, oh God." He moved toward the bed, a hand over his mouth as he took everything in. It was only a moment before his body tensed, anger rushing through him. "I am going to bloody find them," he growled.
Sherlock was about to write a response to Lestrade when the door opened. He smiled when he saw John. Just writing had hurt and he knew using sign language would be even more painful, because it would require more movement but he didn't care. 'Hi. No worries Love. I am fine.' Except he wasn't and he knew he looked like shit, but almost being beaten to death would do that. He dropped his hands to his side, ignoring the throbbing aches. The pain was going to get worse eventually once they stopped giving him medication.
"Fine?" John smiled weakly and reached a hand out, freezing right before he touched Sherlock. "God, I'm sorry. I should've...I don't know, not kicked you out? This is all my fault, isn't it? I did this... all of it." He dropped his head and took several deep breaths, jumping a bit when he realized that Lestrade and left to give them some privacy. "You are coming back home the moment you can. You can't...I need to be there for you." Selfish, probably, but he didn't care. He did need to take care of his husband.
With effort Sherlock lifted his hands again to use sign language. 'Not your fault. They were bigoted cowards. They took everything off me to humiliate me, not to rob me. I think...' He paused because God his fingers needed to rest. '…I think they targeted me, because of who I am. We should keep an eye on the children just in case.' Was he just worrying for no reason? If something happened to his family because of him, he would never be able to forgive himself.
"Sure. Yeah, of course," John agreed quickly, gently grabbing his husband's hands. It probably hurt to do all of that and he couldn't handle watching Sherlock be in pain. He had vowed to try and remember what Sherlock had done, why they weren't living together, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not now, not with his husband like this. "I love you. God, I love you so much." He never wanted this to happen ever again. "Can I kiss you? Please? Just soft...just one."
Sherlock squeezed John's hands lightly as soon as they were taken in by his husband. He gave a small nod, consenting to the kiss. God, he needed it. Needed the love and comfort only John could ever offer. He didn't deserve it still, did he? Despite the brutal beating he had received, he still felt like he should suffer more. It was stupid and irrational but he still felt unworthy of his family.
"Okay," John whispered with a weak, shaky smile. "Good. That's..." He stopped talking to bend at his waist, gently meeting Sherlock's lips. It was quick, he couldn't risk re-splitting his husband's lip or hurting his jaw, but just the feeling of Sherlock's lips made him relax. "I...can't stay all night. Lestrade said you didn't want the kids to see you and Mrs. Hudson...has a date, apparently." He grinned like an idiot and moved a hand to gently rest on his husband's cheek. Just touching him, being close...it was something he realized he had desperately missed.
Those lips. Just that small kiss. Sherlock had closed his eyes the moment he felt John's lips on his. So soft and perfect. After a moment of quiet contemplation he lifted his hands to sign at his husband again. 'I know the children are upset. I just don't want to upset them further by having to look at my horrible state.' A hesitant pause. 'Do you think it would be better or worse if they saw me now?' He had already caused his family enough trouble and pain. He didn't want to add to it by the kids seeing him looking like this. But if they came, then John would stay? Maybe? Christ. He was being selfish, wasn't he?
"I don't know," John whispered. "Thomas, probably not. He is strong and just really misses you. Amy...hard to tell." It was true. Their daughter didn't like anything scary at all. Screaming and crying probably wasn't the best for a hospital, either. "I could try. They miss you, Sherlock and...God, I miss you so much." And he wanted to stay, wanted to be in the hospital with his husband, comfort him and hold him close. "Thomas will probably climb all over you. Think you're ready for that?"
Sherlock smirked at that but nodded anyway. 'He will be fine, I think. Thomas managed not to climb on me in the hospital last time.' Another pause in his hand movements. 'I have asked the hospital to stop giving me pain medication.' He dropped his hands and gaze after that. John would understand, of that he was certain but would it make his husband hate him all over again about the drugs he had used recreationally? The drugs that had gotten him kicked out. The drugs that had ruined his family. All his fault, all of it. Yes, he had certainly deserved the beating. At least in his mind, he had.
John had expected Sherlock to say something like that but hearing it made him wince. That couldn't be very comfortable at all, especially with the amount of movement Sherlock had been doing since he had come in. "I am sure Mrs. Hudson could bring them over, take a taxi," he whispered as he squeezed Sherlock's hand softly. No use in hurting him further. "And...I am proud of you. I mean, you must be in a lot of pain and yet...you are doing it because you know you should." He smiled and bit his bottom lip. "My anchor," he whispered with a clear blush.
Sherlock looked back up to John with a small smile. He reached a hand up to run along his husband's cheek lightly. "Love you," he managed to force out verbally, but his voice was scratchy from being unused recently. He had to wiggle his jaw a bit, so it would sit right again. Yep, definitely dislocated. They probably hadn't fixed it while he was sleeping because even with medication it would hurt to reset and waking up to something like that would be hellacious.
How in the world had he ever kicked Sherlock out of his house? John's heart clenched and he swallowed hard. "I want you to come back home. Can you? Please? Can you please come back home? I will take you home after you are released and I'll take care of you. I can't stay without you anymore." The fact that he was this dependent on Sherlock did scare him a bit but it made him realize there was a reason he had married the man in the first place. He couldn't picture anymore of his life without Sherlock.
All this movement had been exhausting. Even though he had slept for almost a whole day he was already tired. Even with pain medication wearing off, he was still feeling the pull of sleep. 'Do you mind if I sleep a bit? I am tired.' Even before a response could be given, his eyes slipped closed. Without the drugs to force a deep slumber, nightmares found him quickly. The sleep didn't last long and he woke up breathing heavily, bolting upright and with a loud scream. His body was racked with pain and his eyes looked around wildly and unfocused. John…the children…no… The heart monitor beeping loudly and frantically didn't even register. He was still partially lost in the nightmare.
John had relaxed back into his chair with a small sigh. No answer. What was he supposed to make of that? He shifted, made himself comfortable, and right as his eyes closed Sherlock woke up. He jumped to his feet, moving to frame his husband's face with his hands. "Shhh, Sherlock," he whispered. Calm. Loving. Make the environment welcoming and memorable. "Shhh, I'm here. Sherlock, you are fine. I am here." He met his husband's gaze as he ran a hand through Sherlock's hair.
Sherlock pulled away from John initially, still lost in the throes of dream that had disturbed him so. It took a moment for him to realize his husband was there but eventually his eyes focused in on reality. He slumped into John heavily, not caring that the position was painful. He began crying, allowing the tears to fall without restraint. His clung to his husband desperately. By far, this was the worst nightmare he had ever had in his life.
It should scare him that he knew exactly what to do but John was thankful he knew how to handle this situation. "Sherlock, it is fine," he whispered into his husband's hair. "Deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth. It's fine. It's all fine. I'm here." He turned his head, placing a gentle kiss on Sherlock's temple. "If you calm down you will feel better, all right? You'll feel better. Do you want to talk about it? Why don't you talk about it?"
When Sherlock looked up at John the fear in his eyes was obvious. Talk about it? How could he ever talk about something like that. Just thinking about it made him feel sick. He twisted away from his husband and then vomited on the floor. His heart monitor was at least calming down, but he was far from feeling tranquil. He slumped back into John, not caring at the moment how pathetic and weak he looked.
Right. So...horrible. John winced and wrapped his arms around Sherlock as tight as he would dare, not wanting to hurt him at all. "I'm here. You are doing fine, calming down." That look of fear was obvious, he knew that's what he looked like when he woke up, when he remembered. How did Sherlock deal with it each time? "Maybe you feel a little better now," he said with a forced chuckle.
Sherlock wasn't supposed to be talking but he didn't care. "The four men who came after me…they killed you. Killed the children. Made me watch as they tortured you all…Left me alive…couldn't do anything to stop them…" He leaned over and threw up a second time, only all that came up this time was bile. He had already emptied all of his stomach contents the first time. He was never going to sleep again, was he? He had to protect his family. Keep them safe. And Christ, he didn't want to ever have that dream again.
"I'm here, yeah? I'm right here. Just fine. And look, look," John grabbed his phone, a text from ten minutes ago with a picture of Thomas holding Amy, grinning eagerly at the camera. "See. They're fine. They're perfectly fine. We're all here, it isn't your fault. Nothing is wrong." He gently placed a kiss on Sherlock's forehead before pulling away from his husband to quickly get a small glass of water. "Here, drink. Sips, just sips," he whispered as he supported Sherlock again.
Sherlock fell still for a long while, his mind still trying to cope with the false images. It had all been so real. And shit, thinking about it was literally making him sick to his stomach. He shook his head at the water, but he continued to cling to John tightly as if letting go would mean the nightmare would come true. "Sorry," he muttered and grimaced as he wiggled the jaw back into place. Talking really was a bad idea, but he wasn't ready to relinquish his husband yet to sign with his hands.
"If I can't apologize after my nightmares then you can't apologize after your," John whispered as he held Sherlock securely. It was clear that's what Sherlock needed and he was willing to give it. "You are coming home. I don't care if it is selfish, I want you back home. I will take care of you. Please come back," he said weakly. Maybe this, as horrid as it all was, was exactly what they needed. "I love you."
Sherlock continued to hold onto John and he nodded at his husband's words. He was finally calming down, his grip loosening slightly. His head had been resting against John's shoulder and he lifted it to gently meet his husband's lips for a brief moment. Would John get upset? Should he had asked like his husband had earlier? He sighed at his thoughts, his head dropping back onto John's shoulder.
That kiss. It was soft, gentle...and reminded John so much of the first few days of them officially dating. It warmed his heart and he turned his head, dropped his shoulder, and gently returned the kiss. He couldn't help himself. After so many nights of Sherlock on a case, then this...he just constantly wanted Sherlock. To touch him, be near him, hold him close. "I love you."
Much better. So much better than when Sherlock had first woken up by the nightmare. John knew just what to do and say to make him feel better. He relaxed into his husband, turning his head so his nose could nuzzle into John's neck. "I love you too," he whispered against his husband's skin. He closed his eyes in contentment. He had been need of this kind of comfort for awhile and he hadn't realized how much he had missed it until he was finally back in John's arms.
The angle was awkward for John, bent slightly at the hips, back arched to support Sherlock...but he could ignore that. This was helping Sherlock and he could feel it. "I could never live without you." He closed his eyes in contentment. God, he was going to have to leave tonight. That twisted his gut. Maybe he could get Thomas and Amy to sleep in their bed, keep him company. That would fix things, wouldn't it? "I am never kicking you out again. Ever. God, Sherlock, I am an idiot."
"Deserved it. Deserved everything that has happened to me…" Sherlock muttered, wincing once more as he put the jaw straight. He had, or at least he thought so. He was the one who had been an idiot and gotten back into drugs. And God, he had used while at the flat when the children were home. Were they coming tonight? Was John going to leave him if they didn't?
"No, you didn't deserve any of this," John whispered as he shifted to kneel on the bed, holding Sherlock closer. "You will never deserve anything. I promised your Mum after the island-" His voice broke and he took a deep, shaky breath. God, he was losing himself. "I promised your Mum that I would spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I promised and I have already let you down. I am a bloody idiot," he whispered.
Sherlock really wished someone would come in and set his jaw properly, because talking was starting to hurt. His own fault really. "I'm the idiot. I am the one who let the family down. You had every right to kick me out. To never want to see me again…to hate me…" He trailed off as he felt the familiar pang of popping his jaw back into place.
"I could never hate you," John replied instantly. "Never. I married you and I plan on spending the rest of my life with you." There was a pause, his arms tightening around Sherlock as he smirked. "You can't get rid of me that easily, you git," he said with a chuckle. Maybe if they joked a little things would get better, he would be able to stop himself from crying. "I am never doing that again. I can't handle being away from you. Every time I leaned in next to you I just...I smelled you. I couldn't help it. It is stupid and ridiculous but your pillow stopped smelling like you. I couldn't sleep."
"I'm sorry…" Sherlock whispered brokenly. "So sorry…" His head turned back into John's shoulder, his forehead pressing into it. He was never going to use drugs again, of any kind. The withdrawal was going to be horrible and harder, with having had been on such strong medication from the hospital. "I will be going through withdrawals in a day or so. Perhaps the children should come by now…I don't want to see them when I am like that…" Shit. His jaw. He lifted his head and brought his hands to his mouth. His eyes squeezed tight in pain, a loud 'pop' being heard as he finally snapped his jaw back into place on his own. Fuck, it hurt but at least it was finally back where it belonged.
"Sherlock!" John jumped and grabbed his husband's head, framing his face. "Oi, Sherlock...idiot," he whispered with a smile as he met Sherlock's lips. The kiss was slow and gentle because he couldn't help it, he never could. He needed to kiss his husband and remind himself that he was with Sherlock. "I think the kids will be able to handle it. Thomas will, at least. Hell, Amy is smart enough to realize it's you," he whispered before he kissed Sherlock again.
Sherlock smirked a bit and then returned the first kiss immediately. He was about to reply when John kissed him again. His eyes closed, savoring the lips against his. He brought a hand up to run through his husband's hair. The kiss was slow, gentle and perfect. Why didn't they kiss like this more often? Usually one of them or both in most instances were so turned on, that slow and gentle just didn't happen regularly. Maybe they were capable of just snogging after all. Or had they just grown in their relationship to the point that not everything needed to be sexual anymore?
God, he had wanted to kiss Sherlock like this since they had decided to not live together anymore. John exhaled slowly through his nose, twisting his body a bit more so he could continue the kiss but avoid straddling his husband. It would be too painful for Sherlock in this state and right now he was fairly sure that anything other than a kiss would push the limits he had set on them in his head. He slowly pulled away from the kiss, keeping his eyes closed and his mouth ajar. "I missed that just a bit," he finally whispered.
If moving didn't hurt so damn much, Sherlock would have gotten out of the bed to straddle John. He just wanted to be closer to his husband. He slowly pulled away and laid back down. "Need to rest a bit Love." He didn't want to leave John's warm, comforting embrace but damn it his body had been protesting sitting up since the start and he just couldn't take the pain anymore. "Sorry…wanted to stay curled up against you…" Shit. The pain was getting worse too. Probably meant the drugs were out his system now.
"It is fine," John whispered as he moved to lay down himself, holding Sherlock close. "You can stay in my arms as long as you want, dear. That is what husband's are for, right? I am here to protect you and keep you safe." A smile as he placed a kiss on his husband's forehead. "And you are in pain. That's what I'm here for, too, yeah? To try and help you forget it. That's what I'm going to do." He kept Sherlock close to his chest even as the door opened. Mrs. Hudson didn't say a word, just looked at the two of them with a frown. Of course she knew. She always knew.
"Pa... pa?" Amy squeaked softly, hiding her face in Mrs. Hudson's neck. "Papa, dat you?"
Sherlock smiled as John laid next to him and leaned his head on his husband's shoulder. He didn't have the energy to lift his head to look at the door as it opened. "Hey Baby Girl. Yeah, it's me. Some really bad men hurt me, so I look really weird all right? There is no need to be scared."
Thomas pushed through at hearing his Daddy's voice but he stopped when he saw what state Sherlock was in. His lower lip quivered but he didn't cry. His Daddy looked worse than he did after the fights at school. "I knew something was wrong Daddy, I just knew it…" He trailed off, feeling and looking miserable.
The kids. God, the kids must have been terrified. John met his husband's gaze for a long moment before turning and looking at everybody. Thomas first. The boy was on the verge of tears. "Thomas, it is all right. If we stay calm Daddy will get some sleep and feel a lot better." He smiled as he kept one hand resting gently on Sherlock's side.
"Papa," Amy repeated before she looked at Mrs. Hudson. Her little face turned red and the hand in grabbing the woman's shirt for support curled into a fist. "'M gonna finded 'em and-and beat 'em up too!" She declared.
Sleep. The word made Sherlock tense involuntarily but he forced himself to relax afterward. He was with John and the children. Everything was fine now. "I'm fine Son, just a little banged up is all. I look worse than I feel." A lie really, especially with being off pain medication.
Thomas frowned but nodded slowly. He looked back to his sister. "Papa needs to rest Amy. How about we go to the gift shop and I will use my allowance to get you something? I think I saw a really soft stuffed puppy in there." He was having a hard time staying and coping with what he saw. Amy didn't seem to be doing any better. Distraction. They both needed one.
Mrs. Hudson smiled warmly and set Amy down. The little girl grabbed Thomas's hand right away. "Right dears, off to the gift shop we go," she said happily. Maybe the boys just needed some time alone. She opened the door for the kids and followed after them.
"You are doing really well," John whispered the moment the kids left. "I am proud of you," he added as he ran a hand through Sherlock's hair. Maybe he was so giddy because of the exchange he had just witnessed between their children. At the heart of it all, Thomas was a wonderful child. At least the school's principal understood that. "I am right here if you want to try and sleep. You need to rest."
Sherlock knew John was right and maybe being in his husband's arms would help him find a peaceful slumber. He nestled his head into John's shoulder a little more, burying the side with his good eye into it. His hand found his husband's and he intertwined their fingers. "Love you," he whispered as weariness washed over him. It took awhile for his mind to slow down enough for sleep to finally find him.
This was all good, very good. Sherlock's hand in his own. John moved and smiled warmly into his husband's unruly hair. "I love you," he whispered as he looked around the room for a moment. "And I am right here. You are safe. Nothing is going to hurt you." Maybe that would help. Didn't it help him when Sherlock did it for him?