Chapter 11: Study in Acceptance~

Sherlock woke up, in a captain- sized cabin. Stirred, confused to find clean linens under his fingertips. Large ,white, clean bed. Better than any hospital bed, by far. There is great healing in one night's restful sleep.

He flinched, eyes still bleary from exhaustion. There was someone else in the room. Someone dangerous. Someone that knew of half a hundred diffrent ways to hurt him. To really hurt him,not just rough him up a bit.

Which ,he supposed, maybe he deserved whatever this man had come to do to him.

Then ,with another flinch, he heard his name. Said with endearment. He may know how,but he never would.

It was John.

Sherlock blinked and his vision cleared. John had just come back from the ship's head. The doctor come to check on his favorite(most challenging) patient.

"Hey!" John laughed, released from sorrow and anger in the same instant that Sherlock woke up; it was beyond euphoric to find him alive and on the mend.

He took two strides to him,and sat on the end of his bed. Leaned over him,and laid a hand on his throat, taking his pulse. Sherlock closed his eyes tight.

"Go ahead."

"Come again?"

"I know you want to beat the wind of devils from me. I really don't blame you."

Sherlock was suprised when John's arms silently encompassed him. " No. At first, yes, but not now. Mycroft...told me everything..."

Sherlock's eyes opened, and were filled with pain. He smiled,almot sickly. "Well, then you have more reasons to look down on me now, than ever you did. Knowing all those people I took out. And all that torture they..If I wasn't human before, I have certainly been dehumanized to a new level now..."

John smiled. "Oh, I've eaten those words a thousand times since..." he closed his eyes,and swallowed. " You are very human...The most human of humans that I have ever known...The best too,and I never told you. Sent you off with that...I'm sorry..."

Sherlock was confused, brows twisted. "No, no this isn't the way it works. You're supposed to be angry with me, to spit in my face, and kick the wind out of me, and send me away to never speak again. You are supposed to hate me,so that you will never be endangered by me again?"

John laughed bitterly. "You really DON'T get it, do you?" Sherlock blinked, puzzled.

"It makes the most sense,John, after what I did to you."

"What you did FOR me. And no, no that's..."John drew a hand through his hair, looking for words..."That doesn't make sense, when the person you're reffering too is your friend..."

"I don't have friends..."

"You didn't before. You do now, if only just the one, yeah?" he felt like he could cry, and why he wasn't really sure. "But I wasn't angry at you for what you supposedly did. That hurt me more than you will ever know, and you don't need to know, lest it hurt you in turn. And I will have to ask you to please, please NEVER actually do that to me. I know the only part of yourself you've ever actually valued is your brain...but there's really a lot more. There's a life,worth too much for you to take it. There's a heart...That actually can break, and probably has so deep that you don't even know it anymore. What really set me off, was never your being "you". Let me say this once, and let it be the last time. Annoying geek that you are-clueless- to -sentiment dolt that you are-ex-MI6 agent barbarically tortured human wreck that you are-you are also my friend, closer to a brother but that's not even close enough, and I love you just as you are. Got it?"

Sherlock blinked..."Just the way...?"

"Just the way you bloody well are!"John beat his palms into Sherlock's chest,and that's the closest to a beating he'd come." I was never angry about you being you. I was angry that you never would include me,even when you were in the most trouble. That ,even now, it seems you just don't trust me. Don't know how. If you feel like you deserve to pay some sort of penance, let me tell you how it's done, Sherlock. Do NOT shut me out. Just don't."

"I'm supposed to keep you safe. Didn't you say friends protect people?"

"Yes, but not from themselves,you idiot!"John gasped, exasperated. Sherlock grinned, impishly, which set them both to laughing.

"You're right, I don't get it."

"You try."

"Yeah..."

"Well?"

"Hmm?"

"Say something."

Sherlock blinked. "You...you tried to ...kill yourself...for real."

John bowed his head. Sherlock lifted it by the chin, made him look at him. His eyes were blazing, far too hot with whatever went on in his amazing mind, blazing with thoughts to evaporate the tears he maybe wanted. His brows were a ghost of twisted,as if his head indeed was on fire, and hurt unfathomably. He swallowed.

"I think by now ,especially if Mycroft described the torture parts, you know which of our lives I value more..."

John did cry then, and Sherlock smiled, saying that it was alright ,without words."If you expect me not to take my own life, well then you'd best take better care of yours. Can do that,... for me?"

"Oh God, yes!"

They shook hands on it, and then Sherlock let John cry, on his chest, for what seemed like a long time.