Hello, my dear friends!
It's been a long long time since the day I posted the last chapter, I'm sorry for being so slow writing, but I've got my reasons. In this last months many thing have happened to me, and one of them (I know you want to read the story and make me shut up, but I need to tell you my excuse) was the fact that my lovely granny has passed away recently. I have been so... sad and I had no strength to even open my computer for nearly a month, I don't know why. I felt devastated. So please, forgive me for not update sooner, but it was impossible to me until today. This chapter is quite different to the others. It's a longer one, and it has references to one of my favourite songs ever (it's the one I talked about in the first chapter, and it's the one that inspired me in this story). I'll put the title and the link to the video at the end notes of the chapter. I think things get more interesting in this one. And one last thing and I will let you continue with the chapter: thanks for all of the reviews I've received and the story alerts. It's SO AMAZING you have done so many! I love you all! By the way, power0girl , I'm thinking about the thing you said to me in your review, that one about "choose your own adventures book". It's quite interesting, we'll soon talk about it, thank you so much! :3 And, of course a great, especial and enormous THANK YOU to my new beta reader AnimaBaya.Thanks for making this possible! I really love the way you work. You're adorable :) So, now, I let you read the third chapter of "The answer to your fears". Thanks and enjoy!
Chapter 3
"Any good news? Has he left his bedroom?"
"No, Mrs. Hudson"
"Has he eaten something?"
"No, Mrs. Hudson, everything's the same."
"Nearly two days with an empty stomach... That's not a good thing. Maybe if I talk to him..."
"He won't listen, Mrs. Hudson, it's the only thing I'm sure about right now"
"Oh, sorry..."
Sherlock stops looking through the window, and stares at Mrs. Hudson with a tired and helpless expression.
"Don't be sorry, Mrs. Hudson. You're really kind for asking, seriously. Thank you... for worrying about him."
"Not only about him. I'm worried about you too. You both are acting the same way"
"It's just-" Sherlock's voice cracks. He has to relax. He can't permit Mrs. Hudson see him in such a way. A sad smile fills his mouth. "It's just that, for the first time in my life, I don't know what to do."
He hears Mrs. Hudson's steps come nearer and feels her hand on his shoulder.
"Everything will be fine, Sherlock. You're doing alright."
"I'm doing nothing for-"
"You're doing everything for him."
Their eyes meet. All that he can find in Mrs. Hudson's eyes were loyalty and honest words addressed to him.
"Give him a little more time. He has something that maybe he can't tell you now, but after a while, he might be able to. Just wait a little more, darling."
She hugs the tall man, giving him all her warmth and love. It is then that Sherlock, for the first time in years, feels tears fall in his face. Little tear drops that make his grey eyes brighter. Tear drops that make him hug this lovely woman tighter. Tear drops that make him wish more than ever to have his John back...
.oOoOo.
"If you run with him, I will catch you.
If you run with him, I will catch you.
If you run with him, I will..."
"CATCH YOU!"
A shout in the dark. John's breathing is irregular. His forehead was wet, as was his T-shirt, as well as his eyes.
"Catch you... catch you..." he murmurs, trying to stop his panic attack.
His heartbeats are unstoppable, filling his whole body with noisy thuds that have no rhythm. It was just a nightmare. His body was betraying him again, like every time he closed his eyes and felt the darkness surround him. His head goes back to the pillow. The light tries to make its way through the window. It's sunny in London, but cloudy in his life. He catches the sheet and covers his face, still repeating the words "catch you... catch you..." in his mind.
.oOoOo.
Smoke everywhere. The moon makes the shadows less scary. It's so big today.
John would like seeing it. He told me once that the only thing he missed about Afghanistan was the long nights, sleeping outside, waiting nervously for the enemy, but keeping calm while watching the moon. Talking to it, making him feel safe and less alone. But in London; there is something impossible with all those lights. He always complains about that. Well, John. Your wish has come true.
Sherlock thinks, and sighs taking his cigarette again. The nicotine patches were useful for cases, but not for feelings. Breathes in. Grey smoke enters his system. Breathes out. Doubts and fear exit. But they come back, even if he doesn't want to. And those doubts make him find thoughts he had hidden a long time ago. Like the one which was the cause of his bad sleeping habits in a part of his life. Yes. That one that talked about everyone he knew, and loved had gone away in the end, filling his mind with doubts and hate for himself, and with a lonely idea: "What is wrong with me?" He thought he was the cause, the only black point in a white wall. And now he thinks that maybe he was right, because if it wasn't for him, John would be...
*Beep, beep* Text message.
"Would be dead"
-MH
"Stop spying on us. I don't need you"
-SH
"You sure? Just want to help you"
-MH
"No. You just want to know every detail of my life. So please, stop. Now."
-SH
"Sherlock, I'm your brother."
-MH
"Only when you want to. And now I'd like to rest a little bit."
-SH
"I'm trying to discover what happened to John that night, Sherlock. Don't think I don't care."
-MH
"...
Anything?"
-SH
"Not yet. Sorry."
-MH
He sighs. Even with all the London CCTV's at his service, this task seems impossible, even for Mycroft Holmes.
"Have you talked to him?"
-MH
"I tried. But he isn't going to leave his bedroom anytime soon."
-SH
"Have you arrived to a conclusion?"
-MH
"If I had, do you think I'd be like this?"
-SH
"I'll call you if I find any news"
-MH
You won't he says in his mind. He turns off the mobile phone. He doesn't want to be bothered. He wants to keep thinking, and smoking, and... and calling himself a coward because of not going upstairs, take John in his arms and hug him tight and don't stop until he says what happened to him. The smoke fits well with the moonlight, even in a night like this one.
.oOoOo.
Three AM. Sherlock's in the same position as before. His gaze lost in God knows where and forming silent words with his cupped lips, maybe incoherent ones. Like an automaton, he goes to the shelf where all the books and CDs are. He has listened to all of them like a thousand times. All of them... except one. Except that one he barely touches, because when he does, it means things are worse than expected. It means he needs help. Urgent help. And that's not a good sign for the only consulting detective in the world. So, he takes the CD and puts it in this laptop, turning on the loudspeakers and waiting for it to start. He knows John isn't asleep, so he doesn't worry about the volume. He goes back to his site, standing up in front of the big window, watching the dark empty street while a sweet guitar sounds at last. Soft chords that make him close his eyes and sigh loudly. That familiar raw voice says what he is expecting.
Pass me that lovely little gun...
He stares at John's gun, which is resting in the little table next to him.
My dear, my darling one...
He barely touches it with his fingertips, remembering all the times John has saved him with those bullets. Like in their first case, when he knew, at that point, that life without John was impossible now.
The cleaners are coming one by one...
"You don't even want to let them start" he sadly sings, and sits down again, still facing the window.
They're knocking now upon your door. They measure the room, they know the score...
He drinks from the little whiskey glass he's got in his right hand, and in the other shakily one rests the gun, pointing to the floor.
They're mopping up the butcher's floor...
"Of our broken little hearts"
Sherlock's eyes open wide at the sound of that voice. The only voice he'd wanted to hear in these passed days. A dark silhouette stays next to him, with an strange smile in the face.
"John..." He murmurs, paralyzed because the little blonde man was right there, where he wants him to stay forever. By his side.
O, children!
"John, you're here"
Lift up your voice
"I love the sound of my name when you say it."
Lift up your voice
"I missed that. You calling me. I've missed you, Sherlock..."
It is just a mere whisper what is exiting from his lips.
O, children!
The soldier moves softly, staying in front of the glassy eyes of the detective, locking onto them. Blue and grey, sea and cloudy day.
"Hello, Sherlock"
Rejoice, rejoice
"Hello, John. Hello"
The pale hand cups, frightened, the darker-skinned cheek of the doctor, rubbing it really slowly.
Forgive us now for what we've done...
"I - I didn't want to bother you. You wanted to be alone, but I didn't want you to feel like that, because I'm here for you. I – I've always... I've always been. But... John, I didn't. Know. What. To do." His voice breaks and breathes hard, trying to keep calm. "I'm sorry, John. I'm so sorry..."
John thought one day that seeing Sherlock Holmes weak would make him feel a little bit superior. Now he knows he was completely wrong. He wants to make it stop; He doesn't want to see him like this never again, like a lost child who doesn't know where life starts and where it ends.
[…] Here, take these before we ran away...
"You mustn't be sorry. You. Are. Perfect. Have you heard me? You have made far more than you think with just your presence. You have completed me since the first day. And I'm sorry for not telling you before. I didn't even notice until I really needed you. So, please, forgive me."
His raw voice is deeper than usual. It's full of sadness and of... fear.
The keys to the gulag
"Please" Sherlock grabs John's face completely, getting closer to him. "Please, John. Say it" Begs Sherlock, looking straight into his soul, telling him everything with his eyes:
I'm worried about you; I've missed you; I will help you with anything you have to deal; Trust me; I can't stand your hurt look, I want to make it disappear; I was starting to think that you were going to leave me here and never come back; I owe you so much; I appreciate you so much...
I love you so much.
John's eyes close and his mouth becomes a line, trying not to cry. He grabs Sherlock's head too, curling his fingers in the dark soft hair of the taller man, and making their foreheads press together, sighing at the touch that makes the whole world around them disappear.
"We have the answer to all your fears..." Sings, deeply, John, bruising just a bit Sherlock's cupped lips with his own, slightly touching them, and enjoying the sensation.
It's short, it's simple, it's crystal clear...
The ex-soldier separates before Sherlock tries to make the kiss come true.
It's round about and it's somewhere here...
John wakes up, and then, not shaking any more, Sherlock's palm rests in John's chest, while he repeats "It's somewhere here" looking deeply at him.
Lost amongst all our winnings
Without breaking the eye contact, John makes his way to the gun Sherlock is still holding, taking it and putting it again in its place, on the little table near the window. Then, he extends his arm, with an offering hand to Sherlock. His eyes look bright, still empty but shining at the end of all. Without hesitating, thin hands take carefully the other's, and the detective gets up slowly, without a word. Because it wasn't necessary. There are moments when you need no words to say everything.
Poor old Jim's white as a ghost. He's found the answer that we lost...
"This part is ironic. We should change the name, shouldn't we?" said Sherlock, in an attempt of getting a little smile from his best friend. The soldier giggles, just a small chuck, but it's enough for Sherlock. It's like they're keeping each other alive.
We're all weeping now, weeping because there ain't nothing we can do to protect you...
Sherlock's fingertips tighten its grip around a little more around John's hand, looking even deeper in him if it's possible.
"I can, and I will, do anything to protect you. Even if you don't want me to. I will find the answer to your fears." says Sherlock.
As if he heard nothing, John lowers his head, but his chin is accurately pushed up softly with one of the detective's fingers.
The rhythm of the music changes and the voices have more feelings than before. Just as their hearts.
"Come here, John."
Hey little train! We're all jumping on. The train that goes to the Kingdom...
Sherlock rounds his arm around John's waist, pulling him closer, and moving at the lyrics which are making them shake. It's in this moment when the soldier can't pretend he's fine any more, and his head crashes into the taller man's lap, hiding a cry, and holding the other so tight... like he doesn't want the detective disappear. Like if Sherlock was his wall, the only one that makes him not fall again. So they dance, because they're not going to let each other fall.
Hey little train, wait for me! I once was blind but now I see...
The doctor continues crying, sobbing, and with every sob the detective holds him even more closer, bruising his back, still dancing down the light of the moon.
Sherlock can stand it no more and he speaks.
"John, I can't continue like this. Please, tell me. Tell me what you've got. Trust me. I won't make you hurt. This is... this is killing me. We both can go against the world if it's necessary. But not if you don't let me in."
The soldier faces Sherlock, still with his arms around his neck. Tears go down his cheeks, ending in the taller man's fingers.
" Sher – Sherlock. I – I can't..." his voice cracks. "I can't lose you."
Sherlock's eyes shine with all kind of feelings. He can't believe he has heard this. He's waited so much time... John continues , still sobbing.
"If... If some day, something happens to... to me, promise me-"
"Nothing is going to happen to you-"
"PROMISE. ME... Promise me you won't do anything stupid, and you will take care of yourself."
Sherlock was shocked. What was thinking John about? Moriarty has threatened him, that's clear. But... What the hell is he going to do?
"I'm letting anyone – Ah!"
The good doctor has pulled the detective back in his armchair, and now he's in the top of him, sitting in his legs, facing him, and smelling so good... Then, suddenly, John grabs Sherlock's cheeks and kisses him. Hungrily. Passionately. Tenderly at the same time. Both mouths full open now, sharing tongues, getting in each other's warmth. Sherlock puts his hands in John's hips, making the distance invisible. One kiss after another, non stop. Both hearts jumping with joy; their hands curious about their bodies, trying to touch every inch of skin, trying to make feel the other safe.
As suddenly as it started, it stops. John presses his forehead to Sherlock's, who's looking directly into the doctor's eyes, still shock in them. Heavy breaths fill the room.
Hey little train, wait for me! I was held in chains but now I'm free...
After some minutes of silence and confessions through the eyes, Sherlock, finally says:
"I- I promise."
John lightly nods, and gets off of Sherlock, standing up and going to the door. The detective looks all the while at him, until the short shadow returns him the look. That's when Sherlock follows him, taking the hand he had just been offered again.
And the train ain't even left the station
Hope you've liked it! Of course, I think you're able to deduce what's going to happen in the next chapter, aren't you? Yeah, it starts with an S and finishes with a T, turn on the imagination! Thank you all for reading this, rate, review and ask me any petition or question you want! Stay awesome! The song is Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds "O Children" (link here http(:) .com(/)watch?v=ilTSnKa2NrA ) Eliminate all the brackets when you copy the link, please. It's an amazing song I needed to put in Sherlock and John's lives *wink* By the way, can you imagine what comes in the next chapter, no? Yes, my little pervert minds (just kidding, you know): smut. Lovely smut. Well, I love you all! Review and make your petitions if you want to! Cheers!