Alive

NOTE: Another post-Reichenbach, ignoring the S3 canon.

Words: 906

Rating: K

Spoilers: S2:E3

When Sherlock came back from the dead, John had a whirlwind of emotions, whipping through him so quickly and with so much force that he hardly even knew how to handle them. He was furious, desperately confused, heavy with wasted time, back to rage again… It took John a long time to recognize himself. To realize that he and Sherlock were both here and they were fine.

Even Sherlock almost didn't know what to think of John anymore. Sure, John had a backbone, but for the most part he had always taken Sherlock's oddities in stride, let them go. But in the months directly after Sherlock's return, that just wasn't the case. Sometimes John would be glad to see Sherlock, almost being moved to tears, and other times he wanted to throw the nearest heavy object at his head.

Sherlock being back didn't erase the fact that he left in the first place.

Even when John realized he was in love with Sherlock, and Sherlock had related that he also felt 'romantic tendencies' towards John, the doctor had a hard time forgiving his detective some days.

It was a random day—not so different from any other—that John began to heal from that.

Sherlock had left early that Saturday morning to do who knows what, and John was anxious. He found he was always nervous when Sherlock was gone now. It was far worse when he didn't know where Sherlock'd gone in the first place.

He was pacing the floor when Sherlock came through the door.

Sherlock, as was the norm lately—which was strange, if you thought about it, since this was Sherlock we were talking about—didn't know what to expect from John when he came in. He knew that John reacted differently depending on the day, but hadn't seen a pattern. All he knew was that if Sherlock ever left, John's reaction would be unnecessarily strong when he returned, whether it was from fury that he'd left or relief that he was back.

John turned his head quickly to Sherlock, saw his timid face, and felt all those emotions run through him. 'You can't just leave me again, I hate you' was followed immediately by 'thank god you're here, I love you' and John was so tired of not knowing his own mind.

That was when John figured it out.

"Sherlock," John said carefully. Sherlock obviously was not getting either of the reactions he was tensing for, which actually made him even more nervous. He hated surprises. "You know, I've realised something."

"And what is that?" Sherlock replied in a subdued, wary voice.

"I don't trust you anymore. That's why I get like this when you leave. Because I don't trust you to come back. Not one time have I been sure you'd come back to me, so every time you do, it's like The Fall all over again."

Sherlock stared at John, his expression conveying his thoughts far more vividly than usual.

He was hurt by what John had said, that much was clear. His mouth was just barely open, like he was trying to think of something to say and coming up with nothing.

"John…" Sherlock finally said. John was ready for all the logic Sherlock was going to throw at him, all the 'I have no reason to leave, you nitwit' that was about to come his way… but it didn't come. Instead, he said: "You must realise that I never want to leave your side again. I hate being apart from you. I'm just as frightened that you'll leave as you are that I won't return."

John blinked at him. "Leave?" he asked blankly.

"You've just been… so unhappy lately. I figured everything about me was unsatisfying, that our relationship was just the best you could get. When you found something better, you'd leave me." John was still gaping at Sherlock. "What?" he asked defensively.

"Sherlock… unhappy?" John actually laughed. "Jesus, how could you ever think I'm not happy with you? The only reason I snap is because I'm petrified I'll lose you and that fear is so strong I can't even control it." John took the few steps to stand in front of Sherlock. "You're everything that I want. Permanently. But I need it to be permanent. I can't… I can't lose you again. Ever."

"And I can't lose you," Sherlock replied. "It's…" He cleared his throat awkwardly. "It's impossible to get anything done without my blogger. It just won't do."

John let out a quick chuckle. "You… you've never told me that before. That you were afraid of losing me."

"It seemed like unnecessary information."

"Or it seemed like information that made you weak."

Sherlock shrugged. "You are a rather large weakness for enemies to exploit, as displayed by my leaving in the first place. But leaving wouldn't trick anyone now. Not now that they know how truly attached I am."

John had heard these same arguments before, but they sounded different this time. They didn't sound like heartless logic anymore. They sounded like a declaration. He would stay no matter what.

"How attached are you?" asked John innocently, but Sherlock saw through that façade immediately.

"Did you want to engage in make-up coitus?"

"Haven't we talked about using that word?" John asked teasingly.

"Well do you want to or not? Because I'm quite busy today and—"

"Shut up."

And he did.