Okay, my tests are done! Oh joy, now I can use all my spare time to write! Don't take that too seriously though. I won't use all my spare time to write. Lots of thanks to those who wished me good luck on my tests! Turned out I needed it, haha. I think the English one I had today went badly. Ye, ye, shit happen, life goes on, right? Well, at least my story happens to do so! Here's chapter three :)
After awkward silence in the cab for what seemed like forever, John said trying:
"How's Mrs. Hudson? I look forward to see her again."
"She's fine. You won't see her for a week, though, because she's on a cruise with her sister." Sherlock´s face showed no emotions, and his voice was empty. John didn't know what to make of it. Was he angry? But he didn't seem so a little while ago. Everything had been fine up till the point with Harry and – Oh. It dawned on John. Sherlock was hurt. Dammit.
"Sherlock, listen, I'm –" John started, but Sherlock cut him off.
"We'll take this when we get home." It wasn't said in an angry voice, more like an order, and John wasn't one to not obey orders, and kept his mouth shut.
When they arrived in front of 221 B Baker Street, John got a warm feeling, which told him that he was home. This was where he was meant to be. This was the place in his heart. He looked at Sherlock, balancing his entire luggage in the door. That was his heart. When they'd gotten all the suitcases inside and got down to get the last bag, Sherlock stopped. He looked at Mrs. Hudson´s flat.
"She didn't leave."
Mrs. Hudson hadn't left. Sherlock was first gripped with a cold hand, but got hold of himself before he strode in the door. All he needed was seconds. Mrs. Hudson´s luggage on the floor, her sitting in the sofa with red nose, puffy eyes.
John noticed a little bit after Sherlock, and tried to get to her before him. This was just a habit; usually Sherlock wasn't the greatest when it came to dealing with people with grief. He did, however, not get there before Sherlock, and had to stand by in scare for Sherlock to say something stupid. So, when Sherlock hugged the older lady, and let her cry down his black coat while he said sorry and patted her back, John had his third shock of the day. This was getting exhausting. And when and how did Sherlock get so good with humans?
The answer hit him without any further thinking. Sherlock had had to deal with grief himself. And that was his, John Watson´s, fault. He felt bad. He regretted leaving Sherlock. But he had yet to see the biggest and most heartbreaking changes in Sherlock.
"She had a… a… heart attack," Mrs. Hudson stuttered, trying not to sob to much. She tried to utter the words, but it was hard for her, and John felt so bad when he saw how awfully she struggled.
"She didn't… sob… make it." Mrs. Hudson started crying again, and Sherlock just kept on holding her close. He repeated that he was sorry, that it was going to be okay and kept patting her back. John stood spellbound and watched the whole scene. He didn't know what to do and he couldn't say something. Neither did he want to break in on the whole, kind of beautiful scene. John'd never understood why Sherlock cared so much for Mrs. Hudson, not that he didn't like her or anything, just the opposite, he loved her, but why Sherlock did… But now he had the feeling that he'd finally solved the mystery. Sherlock looked at Mrs. Hudson as his mother. Not like the mother he had, but as family. Like families should be.
Mrs. Hudson nicely pulled away after some time.
"Oh, look at me, sobbing all over your coat," she managed to say with the tiniest of smile, and then she looked over and saw John.
"Mrs. Hudson, I'm so sorry," John said, and gave her a hug.
"John! You're back! God how glad I am to see you. Sherlock has been a pain and a mess since you left! He's just been sitting in his apartment, refusing to work, not doing any experiments or going out. The only thing he's done is being rude to Lestrade and Molly and give my wall a hard time surviving." For a moment Mrs. Hudson looked like she'd forgotten about her sister, but it didn't last long. As Sherlock told her to sit down while he made her a cup of tea, John thought of what Mrs. Hudson had said. He hadn't even worked? He'd done bigger damage then he ever imagined he could do.
Very much later, after some cups of tea and promises to come to the funeral, John and Sherlock sat finally in their usual places. John had, as expected, observed multiple, new bullet holes in the wall, and if he'd counted correctly, it was 57 of them. It didn't matter now. He stared at the wall, Sherlock stared at the floor. Both of them had their thoughts on the other, but firstly on what they were going to say. It seemed they'd decided at the same time, because when John finally opened his mouth, Sherlock did too.
"John…"
"Sherlock…" They looked up on each other and laughed. Just a little, but it turned into a bigger laugh. The laughter ended up reminding John about the time they'd sit in Buckingham Palace, and Sherlock wasn't wearing any pants. He laughed a little more by that thought.
"But seriously, Sherlock. I'm sorry. I'm so indescribable sorry. It was the stupidest thing I've ever done, and it was utterly egocentric. The only thing I learned, was, well, that I can't live without you, because I need you. No matter if we are friends, lovers, flat mates or colleagues, I want to be with you." Sherlock could formerly see how John struggled to say the words. His hand had gotten back that tremor it'd had the first time they met, and he moved his hands nervously. John tried for his life to meet Sherlock´s eyes at all time, but had to look down sometimes. Then he looked straight up again, and finished what he'd said, with his eyes locked in Sherlock´s grey.
"I love you."
Sherlock didn't say anything. If it was one thing he'd learned after John left, it was that he shouldn't say things he hadn't thought through hundred times when it came to feelings. He couldn't use John as if he was a towel; use it when he needed it, to throw it away again.
"John. I want to try this. I do. But I…" Sherlock swallowed because this was very hard for him to say, "I might… fail." He breathed out. "And I don't want you to be gone if I do so. I don't do this, you know. I need to learn how this works. Look at me, John, I'm in love."
Sherlock looked down on his hands, not sure where to go from here. Lucky for both of them, this was where John´s seducing skills with women was useful. He came over to the sofa, and sat down next to Sherlock. He took his hand. Sherlock looked down on his hand, which now was covered by the other man´s, and looked back at John.
"Now, why on earth would we hold hands?"
John smiled and shook his head. This was going to be, mildly said, a bit challenging. But it's worth every second, John thought to himself as he stretched his neck up to reach Sherlock´s lips with his own. Worth every second.
Yeah, that's that dear readers! And, I hope you know, I almost never do this, and by this I mean advertising for something, but if you haven't heard Cabin Pressure, go and do it right away. It's just hilarious, and for those of you who are big fans of Benedict Cumberbacth, he is one of the four main voices. Really, if you want a laugh, go listen to it. It's really made my week. That, and of course your lovely reviews! :)