Chapter 10
Sherlock had done it again. But when he had been abroad for the case, at least Mycroft had known where he was. Now, the only consulting detective in the world was apparently off-radar for everyone, including the Yard. He could be kidnapped, even killed, for all John knew, and the latter was worried sick.
"Sherlock, pick up your bloody phone!" he shouted to the voicemail he had already called seven times that day.
"Okay, but it seems a bit pointless," Sherlock said with a smile, as he came through the door, cheeks red with the cold outside, eyes gleaming with joy. He dropped his bag to the floor and reached out his arms towards John expectantly.
John stared at him. "You bloody bastard," he said, but he stepped forward to hug Sherlock, as relief momentarily won out over anger.
Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, pulling him close and resting his chin on top of his head. "Not quite the greeting I'd expected," he chuckled.
"I'm going to start shouting in a moment," John said. "Relief, first." Then he pulled back enough to glare at Sherlock. "Where the bloody hell were you and what on earth was important enough to not even send a text?"
"I couldn't get a signal on Sanday." Sherlock shrugged and pulled John closer, so he could nuzzle his neck.
John sighed. "We really need to talk about this, though. You can't run off all the time and keep me in the dark. I take things slow and constantly take you in account in everything I do, but apparently even finding a landline somewhere is too much effort for you."
Sherlock kept his head down, kissing John's neck gently. He really didn't want this to turn into a discussion. He had missed John more than he had expected. Why couldn't he just be happy to have him home?
John pulled back out of the hug. "Sherlock. Don't ignore me again."
Sherlock looked surprised. "That was not ignoring you. I was actually giving you my full attention." He reached out to pull John close again.
"But are you even listening to what I'm saying?" John stepped out of his reach. "This is important. I care about you. Something bad could have happened and perhaps I'd never even have known because no-one knew where you were. You could just have left to more interesting countries forever. You could have died, and I wouldn't have known. Don't you see? If it had been reverse, wouldn't you have become worried if I promised you that I would text and next thing you didn't hear from me for two days?"
Sherlock sighed and resigned to having the conversation. "I'm sorry, John," he began. "You know how it is, when I'm on a case. I don't think about anything else. It's not like I choose to ignore you. It just doesn't occur to me that I am."
"I know. I'm not asking you to change. Your cases are important. But before, you would just have dragged me along without a second thought. If this-" he motioned between the two of them - "means that you push me away from your work, I'd rather have that things went back to how they were. All this means that I want to be closer to you, Sherlock, not blocked out."
At the words 'things went back to how they were', Sherlock's heart dropped, and he didn't hear the rest. He just stared at John in hurt shock. Then, swallowing convulsively he turned away. "If that's what you want..."
John let out a frustrated groan. "No! That's not what I'm saying, just bloody listen! I'm only asking that you don't push me away all the time!"
Sherlock turned to John again. He was feeling so frustrated he could barely control himself. "I'm. Not. Pushing. You. Away!" he snarled through gritted teeth.
"Could have fooled me," John said calmly.
Sherlock snorted as he turned and walked to the other side of the room. He stood for a while then turned to look at John. "I'm not sure I can handle this. This thing. I don't have the skills to deal with this without hurting you. I know you're not asking much. But I'm afraid you're asking more than I can give."
John looked at him and swallowed. "Have you tried?"
"I've done nothing else. But I still end up hurting you. And that hurts me too much. I can't keep trying and failing. It will tear me apart." Sherlock couldn't cope with this. Picking his bag up from where he had thrown it on the floor only minutes ago, he headed for the door.
John eyed the bag and hurried to Sherlock to grab his arm. "Sherlock, stay. We have to work this out. Please."
Sherlock shook off his hand, but stopped. "It's no use, John," he sighed. "I'm not good at this. Working it out, talking about feelings. I've only just accepted that I have them. I don't for a second believe that I understand them."
"I don't think anyone understands. That's not what I'm asking," John said quietly.
"I don't know what you're asking." Sherlock was desperate now. He just wanted to get away, to not have to deal with this. It was too confusing and too painful. Why couldn't it just have stayed warm and happy and safe?
John tentatively took Sherlock's hand and stroked his thumb over the back. "I want this. But I also want us to keep working together, like we always did. I want to be by your side. Not just between cases." He looked in Sherlock's eyes. "I've been alone for long enough, and I think you have, too."
"I want that too," Sherlock answered. His eyes were very red. "But when I'm on a case, I'm sometimes going to forget you're there. And other times, I'm going to look at you and forget what I'm doing. That's why I can't have you there all the time."
John gently squeezed his hand. "But it wasn't any different before. I was there, and I didn't distract you. Why would it be any different now?"
Sherlock blushed and looked down. "Because now when I look at you, I want to touch you. I want to kiss you and cuddle up to you. And sometimes when I see you looking at me, I think 'he loves me' and I completely lose my train of thought. I can't work like that. And when I manage to forget that you're there and lose myself in the case, I feel guilty when I see you, because you're looking hurt and alone..." Sherlock knew he was rambling, but explaining this was the hardest thing he had ever done. "It's different now, because that's what it is: different!" He gave up.
John stepped closer and gently kissed Sherlock's lips. "I think it will be easier in time. When we're used to this, and everything isn't new. And I can give you time to get used to it, now I know this. But I can't read your mind. You have to tell me this kind of things to make me understand." He took the bag out of Sherlock's hand and put it on the floor. "Come here."
Trembling slightly, Sherlock obeyed and John enveloped him in a warm hug, soothingly stroking the back of his neck. "We'll be fine," he said softly.
Sherlock buried his face in John's shoulder. "Is that a promise?" He muttered.
"Yeah, I think so," John smiled. "At least a resolution." He kissed Sherlock's head.
Sherlock raised his chin and caught John's lips in a long lingering kiss. When he finally broke free, his eyes were burning and his cheeks flushed. "I've missed this so much, I thought I'd lose my mind," he muttered, his voice deep and breathless.
John cupped Sherlock's face in his hands. "I've missed you too," he whispered.
Sherlock smiled. "Good." He was about to say something more, but it drowned in a mighty yawn.
"You didn't sleep, did you?" John said.
"I forgot," Sherlock admitted.
"Come on. Go and have a shower, I'll have some tea ready." John went to the kitchen to put the kettle on, and leaned against the cupboard while he was waiting. It was good to have Sherlock back, alive, and to have things spoken out between them. It wouldn't be easy, but John was sure that Sherlock would get used to their feelings and would be able to focus again while he was around. As long as that wasn't the case, John would have to put his adrenalin addiction on hold, but it was worth it.
When Sherlock emerged from the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel, he was feeling relaxed and warm for the first time since he left London. It had been his intention to go find some clean clothes in his room, but when he saw John standing, in the kitchen, his back turned as he was pouring the tea, he couldn't resist sneaking up on him for a hug.
"Hey," John smiled, leaning back against him. "You smell a lot cleaner than before."
Sherlock just nuzzled his neck and hummed.
"I'll make some sandwiches, you probably forgot to eat as well. Put something on or you'll freeze to death." John turned his head for a quick kiss.
"Not hungry," Sherlock replied. "Just tired." He kissed John's neck, just below the ear. "Can't we just go to bed?"
John hesitated. If Sherlock hadn't seen food in two days time, he really should eat. On the other hand, sleep was equally important. "Just a sandwich?" he tried. "It's five minutes, and then you can sleep?"
Sherlock moaned in complaint. "I'll eat afterwards. I promise." He started pulling John towards the bedroom. "Please?"
"Alright then." John smiled despite himself as Sherlock pulled him along. "Get in the bed and give me two minutes, I'll just get changed."
Once in the bedroom, Sherlock felt too tired to do anything but dump the towel on the floor and crawl into bed. He made himself comfortable while listening for John to return, and without realizing it drifted off to sleep.
John shuffled into the bed with his pyjamas and cleared his throat once he noticed that Sherlock was completely naked. The man was clearly sleeping, though, so John settled against him and tried not to think much of it. After a while, he fell asleep with his face pressed into Sherlock's shoulder.
(Due to recent developments, we'll be changing the rating with the next chapter, just in case.)
