Sherlock was laying on the couch. It was late and John had already bid him goodnight heading up the stairs. Sherlock couldn't sleep yet, though. Even if the case was over his mind was still in overdrive and his throat was hurting. He had managed to hide the bruise from John due to him being focused on Sarah but John would see it tomorrow when he came down to breakfast. He would fuss over him insisting Sherlock rest for a few days but following him anyway when he returned to Sebastian to explain the markings on the walls of his office. Unless of course, he had to work at the clinic instead. Red lights flashed in his mind palace as he thought of John leaving him.
Error!
Error!
Error!
He had made a miscalculation causing him to lose the most fascinating man he ever met. He had cured John's limp but John had taken the first opportunity presented to find someone else to share his bed and his life. Granted the date hadn't gone as planned which tended to happen when infiltrating a group of smuggling circus performs. Both John and his date survived and he still planned to go work with her at the clinic even if they agreed they were better off as colleagues.
Colleagues. It was such a hateful word. John had used it to Sebastian to describe their relationship like the friendship they had built meant nothing to him. He had later recanted that statement, apologizing to Sherlock but the damage was already done. Sebastian had once more been allowed to look at him like a prize that he would bed then forget come morning. He had changed since those days that he let the chemicals run his life and allowed men to use his body who didn't care for him beyond his body being a hole that they could fill. He had once liked sex. Used it not only to his advantage to obtain what he wanted but received pleasure from the act as well. Except he hadn't had sex since. He pushed that thought aside as his own cries threatened to fill his ears.
Stop!
Please!
He practically leaped off the couch as he ran to John's room seeking sanctuary away from that man who was found curled up in the alley his body broken and bleeding. Turning the handle as slowly as possible he pushed the door open. He had expected John to be asleep but John lowered the book he was reading as he turned to look at the man standing at his door.
"Did you need something?" John asked him softly. He stared at John, his mouth opening and closing several times as the words he desperately wanted to stay got stuck in his throat. He swallowed and stared at John as he tried to get him to understand. Understand how much he needed John to be there whenever he needed him and not on a date or at work that didn't involve him. Understand that he had never had a true friend before and didn't know the proper way to act but he was trying. Understand that his throat was hurting and he was so tired he just wanted to sleep but his brain wasn't ready to shut off. Most of all he needed John to understand his fear of John leaving him. He couldn't voice any of it, so instead a whimper escaped his lips causing John to frown. He scooted back on his bed freeing the side closest to the door before patting it in invitation.
"Come here." Sherlock crept slowly forward unsure of himself as he took a seat on the bed. He was stiff but John didn't seem to mind as he moved closer. Even in the dim light, he could see the bruising that lined the pale throat. "Jesus, Sherlock. Did that happen today when you wouldn't let me in the flat?"
Still not able to find his voice, Sherlock nodded. John shook his head. "You should have let me check your throat when it first happened. He could have damaged your trachea or caused a laryngeal fracture. This is also why you shouldn't go into buildings alone where I am unable to help you because he could have killed you and I would have been stuck on the outside."
"I'm fine," Sherlock breathed his voice barely audible.
"I'll be the judge of that," John answered. He lifted his hands as he moved closer to Sherlock invading his space. Sherlock closed his eyes as he felt the first brushing of John's fingers against his sore neck. John's doctor's side showed threw clearly as his examination was thorough but gentle as he made sure there was no lasting damage the best he could without medical equipment. "I can't detect any damage beyond the bruising but I need to know immediately if you suddenly have any problems swallowing or breathing. All right?" Sherlock nodded slightly in response.
"Good. Now it is late and we both need to sleep. So come on, jacket off." Sherlock looked at him his eyes going wide as his mouth moved in response once again at a loss for words. He didn't fight as John helped him to remove his jacket then pulled the blankets out from under his legs helping him to settle in the unfamiliar bed. He lay there staring at the ceiling as John turned off the tableside lamp putting them into complete darkness.
"Goodnight, Sherlock." Was the last thing he heard John say as he settled down to sleep beside him. But the last thing that Sherlock could do was sleep. He was in John's bed. It had been years since he had shared a bed with anyone but Mycroft or Lestrade and even then they had also only shared with him as he was detoxing and healing his weak body. Everyone else who shared his bed had wanted something from him but not John. John seemed to just want him close.
"She," He had asked earlier in the day when John came home practically glowing about his job. John had quickly tried to cover his tracks but Sherlock saw right through the charade. Warning bells went off in his mind as he quickly tried to make sure that John stayed by his side. John was kind as he turned him down, telling him he already had a date but making sure that Sherlock knew that he was welcome to ask again in the future. Sherlock hadn't waited, though inserting himself into John's date that night so that he could get a good look at this Sarah person while making it clear that John wasn't to go on dates without him.
Sentament dear brother
You have Grisham
Only because of you
It was true. Lestrade and his brother had met because he had almost died. Both of them spent many hours at the hospital helping him to recover then Lestrade had practically moved into his brother's house to help after he was released from the hospital until he went off to rehab. During those long hours, they had learned how to rely on each other and had eventually fallen in love. Sherlock only pretended to mind, when in reality he was happy that Lestrade was now a larger part of his life. He knew that Lestrade looked at him as more than a younger brother but almost as a son. He used that to his advantage when he could but in reality, he also enjoyed the older man's company.
A soft snore alert Sherlock to the fact that John had drifted off, obviously perfectly comfortable with someone else in his bed. Now was his chance to run. To escape back to the living room and lie on the couch. Only his body seemed to have a mind of its own as he scooted closer to John so that their arms were touching. He turned slightly so that he could lay close enough that he easily heard the steady sound of John breathing beside him. He had almost lost this opportunity and he wouldn't let it happen again.
He won't want you if he knew the truth
He might
Closing his eyes, he cataloged everything new about John. The room in his mind place growing larger and expanding as he added to it. The amount of information was quickly becoming too much and soon John would have an entire wing in Sherlock's mind palace to himself. Sherlock looked forward to the day that he could walk those halls reflecting on everything he knew about John and how much the man cared for him. Maybe one day the wing could even help overtake the shadows that lurked in the corners. The ones that called out to him and returned no matter what he put in their stead. A statue in the corner would become dark, the information tainted by his cries. Even the thought of the shadows seemed to call them forth and he quickly pushed them back slamming the doors.
Reaching into his pocket, he opened his eyes again as he pulled his phone out. A couple of hours had passed but there was still no reply from Sebastian. He had messaged him as they were leaving the sewers and while it was late, he thought it was rather rude that Sebastian hadn't bothered to respond with a time they could meet tomorrow. A hand running through the curls on the side of his head startled him and he dropped his phone on John's chest as he looked up into his sleepy face.
"Easy," John cooed. "Can't sleep?" Sherlock shook his head no. "Anything I can do." Another quick shake of his head. He turned his phone screen off laying his head once more on the pillow near John's shoulder. John chuckled quietly but Sherlock was grateful when John didn't try to make him move. "Close your eyes and rest now."
John was unable to see Sherlock roll his eyes in the darkened room before following John's instructions. He knew he would never get to sleep but he would humor John and lay here with him and relax. Slowing his own breathing, he listened to the familiar noises of London at night and the unfamiliar sounds that John made in his sleep. It was with these noises that he finally joined John in his slumber.