221B Drabbles

by tsukinoblossom

My attempt at writing short stories in the 221-B format 221 words, last word starting with B . I'm really enjoying writing and I think these will encourage me to to do it more often and present an interesting challenge. Note: These stories are not sequential, or even necessarily in the same universe. Unless otherwise specified, each drabble is a unique, complete entity.

53. Breathe

Yes, I'm counting "breathe" an "breath" as separate words. Sue me. :P
Another drabble inspired by ASiB, but not exactly spoilery. Acknowledges the existence of Irene Adler, but that's about it.

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"John…" Sherlock, curled up on the sofa, sounds oddly apprehensive, plaintive. John folds his newspaper up and looks over at him, his face encouragingly inquisitive.

"Do you think there's something wrong with me?" He's quiet, and John can tell he's been mulling this over for a while. "I asked Mycroft, but he's as broken as I am…"

Without missing a beat, John crosses the sitting room and settles on the sofa, just a tad closer to Sherlock than mates would typically sit.

"What's brought this on, then?"

Sherlock's breathing is ragged and anxious as he turns, locking his gaze on John's.

"I know everyone thinks it's her…" he says this word with enough emphasis that John knows exactly who he's talking about. "But it's not, John. It's you. It's always been you. And I have no idea where to go from here. I hate it. I hate not knowing."

John cups Sherlock's face in his hands, warm and solid. He leans in so they're close enough for intimate eye contact, but not close enough to make the skittish detective even more fretful. "Sherlock, look at me. Come on. We'll figure this out, I promise. Nothing needs to change yet. We'll work it out at our own pace, nobody matters right now besides you and me. Just look at me, and breathe."