Over the next couple of weeks, John was slowly moved into a daily routine of preparing meals, doing a list of jobs Jim left every morning—cursory clean-up things, mostly—and occasionally one of Jim's men would come in and John would see that he was patched up properly. When he was able to be a doctor he felt the most in his element. It made sense; the in and out of the surgical needle, the application of bandages, the counting out of pills, the resetting of broken bones. He didn't much fancy the men; they were mostly unpleasant. Some swore at him when he had to hurt them to fix them, but others bore it with a quiet, empty expression, as if they too had had their soul taken from Jim, a very long time ago.
Some nights Jim crept into John's room and slept with him, and Sebastian was left alone, wide awake and listening to the sounds. Some nights Jim made John sleep on the floor at the foot of his bed as he and Sebastian fucked. Sebastian tried not to bother John unless he had a request that wouldn't put John in an uncomfortable position, or unless Jim ordered him to do something for him. Sebastian refrained from asking about John in front of Jim, showing disinterest whenever Jim talked about his slave, but he showed jealousy when Jim touched John in front of him openly.
One evening Jim came home and dropped into his chair in his office. "SEBASTIAN!" he called from his chair, kicking his feet up onto his desk as he shot off a couple of texts and booked a flight.
Sebastian was in his room, reorganizing his guns. He set down his antique 12-guage, which was gorgeous but hardly ever used, and set out to see what Jim wanted. "Yeah, boss?"
"I'm going to Croatia tonight. Won't be home for two days. I've got three hits for you over that span, all in the area. Keep Winchester on track, he's been slacking. If he gives you any trouble while I'm gone, make him number four. I trust you can keep everything under control while I'm away?"
"Absolutely," Sebastian said, his heart skipping a beat. Alone with John. There were a dozen different spots they could go to be away from the cameras and the sound bugs. Sebastian's gun room, for instance. "Boss...can you give me John's room key code? I'll need to be able to let him out when he has to work," he pointed out casually.
"Ugh. I suppose." Jim scribbled it down on a post-it note and handed over the six digit number. "I'm leaving in an hour. Now go away, I've got work to do."
"Yes, boss. Safe travels," Sebastian said. He disappeared into the hallway and leapt with excitement as silently as he could. Alone with John! He could actually treat John like a human being for a while. He began devising an entire list of surprises and things he would do for John. He hadn't the heart to hope that John would magically start believing he wasn't a filthy liar and traitor, but if he could give John the tiniest slivers of happiness or comfort...it would be enough, at least for now.
An hour later, as he had said, Jim was out the door, leaving John with a list of tasks for while he was gone. John looked forlornly at the long list, but started at the top, by collecting Jim's laundry from his room and starting to do his and Sebastian's wash.
Sebastian left for his first hit, knowing it would take minimal planning and set-up, provided the sly old woman was in her usual spot this Wednesday. Before he left, he slipped a note underneath John's door.
Meet me in the gun room at 8 pm tonight. -SM
John didn't notice the note until he'd finished the washing, cleaned the bathrooms, and vacuumed and dusted the entire house. By that time, he was exhausted enough to collapse onto his bed. Sebastian wasn't home and wouldn't require a meal. A small relief. He slept for a couple of hours, getting up at seven thirty. He tidied up his own room a bit, not that it needed it, and headed down to Sebastian's gun room. "Is there something I can help you with, sir?" he asked, eyes on the floor.
Sebastian motioned him over to the couch where he was sitting and pulled out a pen and piece of paper. At the top he wrote,
I've searched for cameras and I haven't found any, but I can't be sure Jim hasn't bugged this room. John—how are you feeling?
John frowned a bit and picked up the paper to write his response.
Fine, sir. Can I get you anything?
He didn't know what it would matter if Jim bugged the room or not.
Sebastian eagerly took the paper back, then looked at John in disappointment. He grabbed the pen back and wrote,
John, stop it. Shut up. Stop calling me "sir" when Jim's not around. I don't fucking want to hear it. I am more sorry about this situation that you can possibly know.
He missed so much when John used to trust him, when John could tell him how he was feeling. Although...had that ever been the case? He'd never said about Jim, when this had all begun. He'd refused. It drove Sebastian mad.
He grit his teeth together, then picked up the pen again and added,
Do you want to go to the park tomorrow? You haven't been outside in weeks.
John opened his mouth to say "sorry, sir..." but stopped himself. He looked down at the paper in confusion and back up at Sebastian, questioningly. He hesitated for a moment before he wrote down,
You don't have to do me any favors, sir. Would you like me to bring you some tea?
Sebastian shoved the paper aside, frustrated. He buried his head in his heads, resting his elbows on his knees, then pulled at his hair, wanting to yell in frustration. He finally looked over at John and stared hard into those blue eyes with his gray ones, wanting his eyes to say all of the things that John wasn't believing or understanding. He heaved a sigh and picked up John's hands, holding them warmly in his, his eyes never leaving John's. John looked so tired and so beaten, but beneath it all, somewhere deep in those blue irises, was some flicker of a spark, some tiny piece of life. Only embers, barely there, and Sebastian wanted nothing more than to kindle it back into some sort of flame.
John's brow furrowed even more. What was Sebastian doing? He took a tiny step backward, suddenly fearful that Sebastian was going to do to him what Jim did to him when he was alone. "...what do you want?" he asked weakly, desperately.
"I want you to believe me," Sebastian said, not letting go of John's hands and stepping closer. He pulled John over to the couch and sat him down while sitting next to him, then looked meaningfully at John, warning him not to move. He picked up his pen and paper again.
Remember how you had to lie to Sherlock? Jim forced me to lie to you, John. When I told you that I was using you, all of those terrible things, I had a bug in my ear. He would have killed you or one of your friends if I'd strayed off script. I know you have no reason to believe me, John, but I'm writing here now that I'm sorry. I kept you alive because I thought it was the right thing. Maybe you would have preferred to die. I wonder what would have been better every single hour. All I know is that I would gladly die to set you free. I love you, John Watson. I have never and will never stop being utterly in love with you.
Sebastian worked to keep his face from scrunching up in emotion as he wrote, and he had to turn away from the page so teardrops wouldn't drop on the page. With shaky hands, he gave the page to John, knowing he'd have to destroy it as soon as it was read.
John eyed Sebastian as he took the piece of paper. His eyes slowly slid across each line as he read them one by one. John didn't know what to think. He was torn between anger and hatred, joy and sadness. He felt his eyes watering a bit and he looked up at Sebastian desperately. He wanted to believe it so so badly...but Sebastian didn't care about him. Why would he go and sleep with Jim if that was the case? John had heard them, seen them, been in the same room on several occasions and Sebastian was not faking it. No one was that good. John searched his face for a moment before he lightly shook his head. His throat felt thick. He took the pen and wrote,
I've seen you and Jim, sir.
Sebastian looked at the paper, pleased that John had at the very least written back. How did he explain the complicated relationship with Jim Moriarty? How, without John, he'd turned to the only thing he knew?
I don't love him.
It was the absolute truth. He looked up into John's eyes.
I have never loved him. He is a fuck partner and my boss. He is not the man I love. He is not the man I want to spend the rest of my life with.
John's heart pounded. He hated this. He hated the thin tendrils of hope that were slowly starting to creep up inside him. As soon as Jim was back, he'd see them and immediately take a weed whacker to them, and John didn't think they'd ever growl back. John felt a tear slip down the side of his face. He grabbed the pen, his hand shaking.
And who's the man you want to spend the rest of your life with?
Sebastian read the note, then looked up and said out loud, "Don't be an idiot, John." He took John's head in his hands and kissed him earnestly.
John tried to kiss back, but he was suddenly sobbing. Tears poured down his face and he grabbed at Sebastian, pulling him closer to him. Everything that he had been bottling up over the past several weeks exploded out of him. His body shook and tears overflowed as he buried his face his Sebastian's neck.
Sebastian grabbed John into a fierce hug, pulling him close, letting him cry out against his neck. He could feel tears beginning to spill from his own eyes, and his back heaved as he held onto John for dear life. "I love you, John," he whispered between his sobs.
John couldn't form words for a moment, finally choking out quietly, "I—I love you too, sir—" As "sir" spilled from his mouth, John's tears doubled and he clung even harder to Sebastian. He wasn't alone anymore.
The words out of John's mouth were more than Sebastian could ever hope for. "If you say 'sir' after 'I love you' again, I'm going to smack you upside the head," he laughed wetly, pulling John's face up for a long kiss. He wanted to melt into the kiss—John's lips against his. It was so right, so obvious, like he was whole again when he was kissing John. He felt stronger, lighter, with John's lips touching his. He cupped John's face as he kissed him, sobbing a bit into John's mouth, brushing away John's tears as they fell.
John wanted to keep kissing Sebastian, but he just didn't have the mental or physical strength. He was so exhausted and drained from the past few weeks, then this emotional burst on top of that—he just couldn't do it. He dropped back against Sebastian's chest, his arms loosely flung around him. He ached. All of him ached. But now, instead of a painful ache, it was the ache of his body trying to make room for hope again, for love, for feeling. He'd been nearly completely hollowed out by Jim, but things were slowly, slowly starting to come back.
"Sleep with me tonight," Sebastian whispered. "No sex, just...just let me hold you. Please, John, could you do that?"
Nothing had ever sounded better, and John gave a weak nod into the other man's chest.
Sebastian gave a sigh of relief and pulled John towards him, holding him close. "I'm going to fix this," he whispered into John's hair. He had no idea how, but an idea was forming. He was going to have to meet with someone he severely didn't like to do it, but it would be worth it if it worked.