Chapter 7
"Sherlock, please." John pleaded.
Sherlock had his back turned, his back facing John and he stared at his black and white, oddly printed wallpaper. He stared down at the couch, his left arm crossed over his stomach as his right elbow rest against the forearm, his fingers stroking his bottom lip.
"You haven't spoken to me in a while...and, and I don't know what to do." John explained, his voice cracking.
Sherlock sighed, turning around. His eyes trained on John's. John looked sad, upset and it was visible in his eyes that he hated himself. He hated himself for what he had done. He was ashamed.
"I don't know what to say to you, John. I am disappointed." Sherlock muttered, walking past his partner. Obviously, Sherlock was more than just disappointed. He was angry, hurt and heartbroken. He had never been in this predicament before, so he didn't know what to do.
"What can I do, Sherlock?" John pleaded, desperately trying to do whatever it takes to gain Sherlock's trust back.
Sherlock tilted his head slightly in John's direction.
"I don't think there's anything you can do." Sherlock said, then left the room, leaving John in the middle of the room.
That night, all was silent in flat 221B. Sherlock was tapping away at the computer, no doubt creating new text posts on his blog and John was in the bedroom.
John sat at the foot of the bed, cross-legged on the floor with his head resting in his hands. He had been sobbing, quietly, for a few minutes. The lights were off and the only source of light came from the slight crack in the door.
John felt helpless. He didn't know what to do. It has been nearly a week since either of them had a decent, civil conversation. John knew he made a mistake - a very big one - but he didn't know how to fix it - fix them. Sherlock didn't even want to speak to him anymore, all he ever did was go out, look through files that Lestrade had given him or stay on the computer. He didn't so much as glance at John anymore. It was as if John were invisible.
John closed his eyes, forcing himself not to shed another tear, but he broke down again. Tear after tear, it didn't seem like the crying was ever going to stop. And what was crying going to do for him? Nothing and he knew that.
John sniffed, swallowing hard passed the lump in his throat. He couldn't deal with Sherlock ignoring him or pretending he wasn't there. He couldn't deal with knowing he had been unfaithful, even if it was just a kiss. Kiss or not, it still happened.
The door creaked open slightly, long fingers curling around the edge of the door, opening it up just a little bit more. John didn't want to look up. He didn't want to look up at the person he had disappointed, hurt and betrayed. He didn't want to face him.
John felt like a child at that moment, all sitting on the floor, a load of self-pity and anger, anger towards himself, welled up inside him.
John noticed the shadow that cast across the ground, a silhouette of a tall man, with curly hair and a slim figure. Sherlock was staring at John, biting his lower lip hesitantly.
"John..." Sherlock whispered. And in that moment, he knew that he had to forgive John. He could see John's expression, and know that John was torturing himself as every second ticked by. Despite John's mistake, Sherlock will never forgive himself if he let John do that to himself another minute longer.
Sherlock sat beside John, and John pressed his lips together, desperately trying not to sob aloud. He missed the feeling of Sherlock being voluntarily close to him. He missed the way Sherlock said his name. He just missed their entire relationship as a whole.
That whole week without communication was enough for John to realize that he couldn't live with Sherlock.
"I'm so sorry!" John gasped, throwing himself into Sherlock's arms and clinging to him like his life depended on it.
Sherlock reluctantly wrapped his arms around him, pulling him in closer. He buried his face in John's hair, breathing in his scent.
"It's okay." Sherlock finally spoke, and he caught himself off guard with how depressing he sounded.
They stayed like that for a while, holding on to each other. Neither of them speaking another word.
And they didn't need to.