Sherlock didn't precisely let himself be held. He had broken down too far to summon the mental faculty for that. He simply lay there as John clutched him and rocked him, speaking words of comfort and love to him as he sobbed.
The events of the last three years had been leading directly to this. From the moment Sherlock had realized he would have to throw his reputation away as well as his life as he knew it to save John, his breakdown had been inevitable. His time away had been miserable. The time since his return had been marginally less so at times, worse at others. Add to that the mental stress of withdrawal from both cocaine and John and it was a miracle it hadn't happened before now.
The doctor held him through it until Sherlock's gasping sobs slowed and finally quieted. Several long minutes later, the detective struggled to sit up. John helped him, smoothing back his sweat soaked curls. "Alright. You're going to be alright." He felt selfish asking, but he had to know what Sherlock wanted, so he pressed ahead. "Do you want me to go?"
The detective shook his head. "Not if you meant what you said."
"I've never meant anything more in my life."
Sherlock nodded. He felt completely wrung out, but he desperately wanted John to stay. The detective groped for the right words. "I'm still not okay, John. You know that."
"Yeah. And I still have to figure out things with Mary. Not about the marriage," the doctor hastened to clarify. "About Ailis and how the divorce will procede. I've chosen you, don't ever doubt it. Never again."
They were silent for a bit, then Sherlock asked, "Now what?"
"Mary is willing for me to stay with her at the house or to move back to Baker Street immediately. So it's up to you. I know it's going to take you more time to get through the psychological withdrawal you're experiencing. Will it be better for you to do it here or at home?"
It was so very tempting to say he could do it at home. Sherlock wanted nothing more than to be at Baker Street with John and have this all behind him. He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing for a few minutes. When he opened them again, the detective said what needed to be said, not what was begging to be let out. "I need to stay here a bit longer and there are things that need to be done. I'm certain Lestrade found some of my stash, but... I'll make a list. You can take care of... things... If you're willing."
John swallowed hard, then nodded. "Right. Thank you." His leg started cramping. "Can we move to the sofa?"
At Sherlock's nod, the doctor helped him to his feet. They sat together on the sofa in silence for some time, the detective leaning against John's side.
"John," Sherlock said, his voice small, "I know you need to see to things with Mary and Ailis..."
After several moments of silence, John coaxed him to continue, "Yes?"
"I'm so tired of him, John. While you weren't here... The things he says in my head... Please, will you stay with me a few hours so he'll stay away?" Sherlock looked at the doctor hopefully. "I need to rest and I can't with him here."
"Of course. I'll stay as long as you need," John promised.
After that, they grew quiet again. Sherlock's sheer exhaustion outweighed his brain's restless need for stimulation and he soon fell asleep, resting against the doctor's side.
The most difficult decisions to make came with the greatest risks, but they also offered the greatest reward. Things were far from alright, but John hadn't been rejected. He had been given a chance to make things right with Sherlock. A chance he intended to take full advantage of.
The detective, for his part, had made his own tough choices. John was so very gratified and relieved by that. Sherlock hadn't chosen what surely seemed to him to be the easy way out. Instead, he had admitted at Greg's place was where he needed to be and he had volunteered information about his hidden stash of drugs. John was under no illusions. The future would be full of challenges, but together, they had a chance of making it.