Sherlock was lying sprawled out on his bed feeling his mind atrophy from stagnation. He was staring out the window watching the rain slam against the glass as the February storm raged outside. He'd given up since January. He spent most of his days ignoring appointments and groups.
"You've a phone call, Holmes." He said politely.
"Tell Mycroft I prefer to text." Sherlock growled.
"You can tell him yourself," The orderly replied. "Contrary to popular belief, I am not your personal assistant. This is the first time you've earned phone privileges in close to a month. And this poor git has been calling you every night for the past two weeks."
"Tell him to fuck off." Sherlock said angrily.
"Get your lazy arse out of bed and answer the phone." He said firmly. "I'm sick of your shit."
Sherlock practically crawled off the bed and wandered slowly to the head desk. He sneered at the woman handing him the receiver.
"Congratulations, Mycroft." Sherlock snapped. "You've sent me to a place full of staff so incompetent they seem completely incapable of passing on a simple message."
"Did you mean it?" John's voice said quietly.
Sherlock felt his jaw drop as his entire flooded with endorphins. He felt light-headed and giddy as his John's lovely voice skittered over his skin.
"John." He whispered like it was the answer to a prayer.
"Did you mean it?" John asked again. "What you wrote?"
"Every word." Sherlock said quickly.
"I just don't understand, Sherlock." John sighed heavily.
"Understand what?" Sherlock asked hating the uncertain restraint in John' voice.
"I don't understand how you can say the things you do and then do what you did."John answered.
"Because I was stupid." Sherlock said firmly. "I was completely stupid and I wasn't thinking. And I promise that I will never do anything like that ever again."
"Nobody can promise that." John said quietly. "Not anybody."
"But I'm not anybody, John." Sherlock said passionately turning away from the people watching him curiously. "I'm smart enough to know that you'll only ever forgive me once. And you mean too much for me to ever risk you leaving me again."
"And what makes you think that I'll forgive you this time?" John said and Sherlock could hear the anger lacing that addictive voice.
"Because," Sherlock said quietly. "We need each other. You need me just as much as I need you."
"I'm fine, ya know." John said roughly.
"John…"Sherlock said trying to break through that anger.
"No." John said. "I'm not some pathetic child who's spent the last six months pining for you."
"That's not what I meant." Sherlock answered.
"I'm fine, Sherlock." John said. "Goodbye."
Sherlock felt polarizing emotions rushing through him. He'd talked to John. His John. It had felt wonderful for those few short minutes talking to the shorter boy. John was still angry. But they'd talked. For the first time in six months, he'd talked to him. He could fix this. He knew he could. He felt like he could breathe again. He felt his mind kickstart at the promise of work. Real work. The most important work he's ever had to spend time on.
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"John? Are you alright?" Molly asked hesitantly.
"Yeah." He said. "I'm fine."
Molly glanced down at her friend. He was curled up under one of the staircases again.
"You do know that it's alright, don't you?" She said quietly.
"What are you talking about?" He asked.
"It's okay to admit that things aren't fine, John." She said crouching down next to him. "You always tell people that everything's fine now matter how much it isn't. You can be not okay."
"Really." John sighed. "I'm fine."
"Can I ask you a question?" She said hesitantly.
"Sure." He said shuffling over to allow her to crowd in next to him.
"Why did you move to London?" She said.
"You've never asked me that before." He said quietly.
"You always look sad, John." She said with a shrug. "I didn't want to make you sadder."
"I'm not sad." He sighed. "I'm just…I don't feel like myself."
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want." She said bumping his shoulder lightly.
"It was my Mum's idea." He answered. "She felt like she wasn't able to take care of me working the hours she had to with my Dad gone and everything. But…"
"But?" She prompted after he fell silent.
"I sort of wanted to." He answered quietly.
"Why?" She asked.
He sighed heavily before burying his head in his hands. "There was this boy…"
He collapsed against Molly's shoulder as she wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close. And for the first time, he told someone everything. About how they met and how John felt. He told her about Sherlock's smile and their time together. About Sherlock's drug use and Jim. About how Sherlock had ruined everything and how he didn't know what to do and he felt so lost. He fell silent and a weight lifted from his chest as his breathing evened out.
"Do you want to know what I think?" She asked quietly.
"Please." He said.
"I think this strange limbo is killing both of you." She said firmly. "You're both so consumed with uncertainty and pain that everything around you is becoming necrotic. Distance isn't going to help. It's just going to make the infection worse. You need to make a choice. Right now. Decide what you want. Decide whether to trust him again and make it work. Or cut your losses and let it go."
John sat up and turned to face his friend. The only friend he'd bothered to make in London and felt such a rush of joy that he had. He pulled her into a rough hug placing a big kiss on her cheek before climbing out from under the staircase and running for the door.
"Thank you, Molly!" He shouted behind him.
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Sherlock lay on his bed watching the drizzle cascade down his window. He'd just the spent the last thirty minutes listening to an array of petty felons sharing their feelings and he was literally sick with boredom. He rolled over and felt his interest pique up a bit.
"What's going on?" He asked.
"Why do you think something is going on?" His therapist asked.
"Obvious." He said rolling his eyes. "You never come onto the ward. You prefer to have your patients come to you. Something's changed, what is it?"
She just shrugged and motioned for him to follow her. He got up and followed her off of the ward and down the hallway. She stopped outside of a doorway and turned to face him. "Don't screw this up."
He felt his whole body start to quiver as she turned the door handle letting the door crack open. He caught his breath as a flash of blond hair showed through. He pushed the door open the rest of the way and for the first time in seven months, he laid eyes on John. His John. He rushed at the shorter boy and pulled him close wrapping his arms tightly around him and clutching tightly. He breathed in the scent and felt every muscle in his body relax at the feel of John burrowing into his chest. He ran his hands over John's back and ribs and neck and hair. It felt so right, so perfect. He huffed in irritation as John pulled away slightly but was mollified as John kept a tight grip on his shirt before raising his head letting Sherlock look into those bright blue eyes.
"I'm…" John said softly. "I'm not fine. Not really."
"John." Sherlock whispered gripping at John's neck making sure that John couldn't look away.
"I know that I said I was." John continued searching Sherlock's face intensely and the taller boy felt his heart stutter under the familiar gaze. "But I'm not."
"I'm not either." Sherlock said passionately.
"I've tried." He said. "I've really tried to be okay without you. To be happy without you."
Sherlock's entire mind seemed to crack under the weight of those words. He couldn't bear the thought of John moving on and leaving him behind.
"But I can't." John said. "I don't know what to do, Sherlock. Because I shouldn't still want to see you or spend time with you because you hurt me. So badly."
"John, I'm sorry." Sherlock said intensely. "I'm so sorry. I swear it'll never happen again. I will never ever hurt you like that again. I promise."
"I know." John said firmly rubbing his thumb across Sherlock's cheekbone. "Because this is it. One chance. I need you, Sherlock. So, one more chance. And heaven help you if you fuck me over again."
Sherlock felt his knees buckle a bit and he pulled the shorter boy down with him to the carpet. He ran his hands reverently over John's skin letting the joy and hope show radiantly on his face. "I promise."
Their smiles matched perfectly, just as they always had. And finally, Sherlock pulled John to him and kissed him with everything he had. God, it was like heaven. The familiar touch and taste sending bolts of electricity and heat all over his skin. He felt his heart clench as John's hands roamed a bit hesitantly over his arms and neck. They sat there relearning each other as quickly as they could. His entire body was on fire as John finally let out a whispery little moan. Sherlock pulled back to stare into heat-filled eyes and he had never been happier in his entire life.
"I missed you." Sherlock said resting their foreheads together. "So much."
"I missed you too, you arse." John said with a hint of a smile.
"What made you come?" Sherlock asked curiously.
"My friend told me that I needed to choose." He whispered. "And I realized that the option of never seeing you again wasn't an option I could ever take."
"God, John." Sherlock breathed. "I just…I'm yours, forever. You know that, right? I'm yours."
John kissed him fiercely and Sherlock felt the confirmation sizzle over his skin. They clung to each other whispering reassurances and promises until a subtle knock sounded over the room. They broke apart, fixed their disheveled clothing, and stood up as the doorknob turned and his therapist walked into the room. Sherlock clung a bit tighter to John fearing that he would disappear and then Sherlock would wake up and this all would have been a dream.
His therapist smiled happily at John and held out her hand. "You must be John."
"Hello." John said with a giddy smile.
"I'm Sherlock's therapist, Irene Adler." She said pleasantly.
"Bit of a handful then?" John said bumping his shoulder lightly.
"Isn't he always?" Irene said with a grin.
Sherlock huffed lightly but leaned into the blond as John began to rub light circles on his lower back. Irene studied them for a bit before shrugging lightly. "Well, John. What are your plans for dinner?"
Sherlock felt his pulse race as a blush rose to John's cheeks. "I hadn't actually thought that far ahead."
"Settle in." She said waving to some couches along the far wall. "I'll grab some trays from the refectory and you boys can eat here."
"Thank you." John said happily.
She exited quickly and Sherlock practically dragged John over to the sofa before plunking him down and arranging the shorter boy's limbs so that Sherlock could curl against his chest.
"You're like a limpet." John chuckled running his fingers through Sherlock's dark curls.
"God, I've missed you." Sherlock whispered. "Who told you where I was anyway?"
"Your brother. Which reminds me…" John said continuing to play with the unruly curls but he squirmed a bit to get to his pocket. He traced something up and down Sherlock's back. "Mycroft got me the nicest Christmas present."
Sherlock huffed into the jumper-clad stomach before replying, "Was it Machiavelli?"
"No." John said. "He bought me a cell phone."
Sherlock jerked at that and sat up kneeling between John's open thighs. "What?"
"Yeah," John said with a mischievous grin. "He got you one too. It's in my bag. And I'm supposed to tell you to stop pandering to those woefully idiotic boys and spend your time atoning for your bad behavior."
"He got us phones so that we can stay in touch?" Sherlock asked incredulous.
"I believe so." John said.
"That's unexpected." Sherlock whispered.
"But good, right?" John asked hesitantly.
Sherlock stole a kiss from the shorter boy before responding, "Brilliant."
They kissed languidly, neither ready to break contact anytime soon. They spent the rest of the afternoon and evening chatting while lying wrapped around each other on the couch. Sherlock asked John about London and resolved to move there once his imprisonment in Scotland was over. John giggled at the stories Sherlock shared of his exploits at the facility and Sherlock felt goosebumps race across his skin at the sound. They finally parted at half nine because John's train back to London was leaving soon. They clung to each other and John promised to visit soon leaving one more passionate kiss on the taller boy's lips before turning to go.
Sherlock was escorted back to his room and laid down gently on his bed clutching the cell phone tightly in his hand. For the first time in seven months, Sherlock felt sleep easing through his limbs happily as he let the memories of that day seep into his subconscious to keep him company in his dreams.
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These boys had suffered enough, don't you think?