"Sherlock, look at this."
I looked up. We were sitting at the desk eating breakfast. Well, John was eating. I was on my laptop, typing up some notes from an experiment I had been working on. John was also reading the paper which I'd already glanced through and had quickly discarded. He was pointing to that article, of course. That one that had caused me to discard it so quickly. I gritted my teeth and turned back to my laptop.
"This is your sort of thing, Sherlock!" John cried. I could feel his eyes boring into me, frustrated and confused. I ignored him, trying to shut down that part of my brain and focusing completely on my notes.
He was right, though. The article was about a case the Yard was working on. As it would have it, Lestrade was even the one on the case. Quadruple murder, seemingly random but same style, no suspects whatsoever to go on. It was rather embarrassing for the Yard and Lestrade, really. And it had caught my eye. It had excited that old, hidden part of me that hadn't had a chance to show itself in a year. But I couldn't. I had sworn off taking cases to take care of John. He needed me. I couldn't very well drag him along to crime scenes and drag up nightmares that he was just starting to be relieved of. And I was not about to leave him home alone. He still needed me there.
Rolled up newspaper thwacking me in the head snapped me out of my thoughts and I looked back up to John with a glare. He was glaring right back already.
"Call Lestrade. You can help."
I shook my head, turning once again back to my laptop. "He's fine."
"He is not!" John barked after a moment. I had mumbled, I realized, meaning he probably had had a harder time reading my lips. "They have no leads! Four people are dead already, Sherlock! You know you can do this and I know you want to, so why won't you?"
I looked up again, jaw tense, and stared at him stonily. "You know why."
John's glare dropped and he stared at me, lips parted slightly and eyebrows crinkled sympathetically, and then sighed. I hissed at him before stubbornly looking back to my laptop and stabbing at the keyboard.
I felt utterly ridiculous. I hated it. Really, I did. I hated that I loved John so much that I would give up being a consulting detective. The one thing that had made life interesting. Until John came along, that is. He made things even more interesting and apparently I had decided that he was all I needed. Which I wasn't arguing with, no, but it didn't mean that I didn't want to solve crimes. I did enjoy that. But I wasn't about to give up John to do it.
"Sherlock."
It was the quiet tone of his voice that made me look up this time. He sighed again, this time with a small sort of smile.
"I'm fine. You know that, right?"
I growled at him. "You're deaf. Recovering from trauma. Haven't left this flat in six months. Still have nightmares and PTSD attacks. Still jump three feet in the air when startled. You are most certainly not fine."
"Send Mrs. Hudson up, then."
I let out a loud bark of bitter laughter. "Because if something were to happen, an eighty some old lady with a bad hip could really help."
"What could happen?" John pushed, putting the paper down and leaving his chair to kneel down in front of me. He took my hands in his, pressing my fingers against his lips. "I'll be fine, Sherlock. If I need you, I can always call you. You could have Mycroft put an extra watch on the flat if it'll make you feel better. But I've seen how itchy you are to go out and do something. I saw your reaction to that article. You want to go. I want you to go."
My lips twitched and I nudged his chin so he'd look up at me. "You want to get rid of me, hm?" I said softly with a smile. John rolled his eyes and pulled himself back up to his feet, tugging at my hands. I stood up as well.
"Go. I'm not going anywhere. You'll have fun. Go."
I didn't do anything for a few more moments, staring at John, weighing the options. Then I grinned, dropped his hands, and snatched up my coat from where it had been gathering dust on the back of the door. As I threw it on and grabbed my scarf as well, John's words replayed in my head, one thing he said reminding me of something.
"Oh, John, I've been meaning to tell you. Mycroft said he might've found an operation to help bring back your hearing. If you're interested, we can talk about it more when I get home. I'll have Mrs. Hudson check on you regularly, all right? Ta!" And I was off, the adrenaline already pumping through my veins.
I can pick out the exact moment Sherlock decides to go. It happens a split second before the grin. There's a light in his eyes, a light I haven't seen since before... since before everything. A light that means excitement and brilliance and everything about Sherlock that makes Sherlock Sherlock. It's one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. Then he grins, drops my hands, and is throwing on that long black coat and blue scarf. It takes me a moment to realize he's talking as well and I have to really focus on the movement of his mouth to figure out what he's saying. Even then, the door's been shut behind him for a few more moments before it really makes sense.
Mycroft said he might've found an operation to help bring back your hearing.
An operation.
To help bring back my hearing.
Bring back my hearing.
I'm stunned. I have to sit down in my armchair to let this sink in. I had never considered that I would ever be able to hear again. I had accepted, probably before I had realized what had happened, that I wouldn't hear for the rest of my life. I don't even know how long I had been deaf. It had happened sometime when I was... I was gone, but I don't know when. I don't even know how long I had been... gone. I'd never asked. I don't think I want to know.
But I might get my hearing back. I might be able to not have to stop everything and focus on Sherlock's lips or hands to understand what he's saying to me. I might be able to hear his voice. I might be able to hear the rustle and bustle of London outside my window. I might be able to hear my own voice. I might be able to hear.
Suddenly I'm extremely impatient for Sherlock to solve the case and get home.
A/N: Hey, hey, hey, hey! Guess who got a random couple hours and good wifi and wrote an update! This guy!
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