When he opened the door and went into the living room he found Sherlock on the couch. John rushed over to him, " Sherlock ,what's wrong?" he asked before he realized that Sherlock was asleep. He was lying on his side, with his legs tucked up to his chest. His eyes were clenched closed and pain was on his face. He was sweating, and John could hear a small sound coming from him; if he didn't know better, he would say he was whimpering.
Sherlock was having a nightmare.
"John…." Sherlock called out in his dream softly. John couldn't stand to see Sherlock suffering in his nightmare any longer and he shook him gently awake. Despite the fact that John shook him as easily as he could, Sherlock still jumped nearly out of his skin. He sat straight up and grabbed John's hand with a vice grip as if he was a foe. His eyes were wide and alert, searching.
" Its, okay, Sherlock" John said, " It was just a nightmare"
Sherlock's panic dissolved immediately and he let go of John's arm. " A nightmare? Do not be ridiculous John, I don't have nightmares. Why did you wake me?"
"Because you were calling out my name" John said, " You seemed upset….because you were having a nightmare"
John watched as Sherlock averted his eyes and as his ears turned a slightly darker shade. "Ridiculous, you were hearing things" he mumbled. He got up from the couch and walked to the window, staring out onto the street. He was trying to ignore John, but John wasn't going to make it that easy.
"You know its okay, right?" John said. " Its okay to be affected. Its okay to be upset, to feel different; I don't know what all happened to you while you were gone but I can tell it has affected you"
Sherlock continued to stare out the window " Is this the part where I'm supposed to talk about my feelings John?" he asked sarcastically.
John bit back a mean response. " This is the part where you're supposed to say something, Sherlock" he said. " I feel like you're a total stranger. You never talk to me about anything! You don't have to talk to about your feelings but you do need to talk about something! You were gone for three bloody years! You tell me you hunted down Morairty's men, I don't know if this means that you killed them or what but I do know that you went through a lot and I just wish that you'd talk about it. Half the time you walk around here happy and absorbed in your cases, the other half you're walking around like you're a zombie or something. Staring off into space, mumbling, playing depressing music. You once told me that you weren't a hero….you're human Sherlock ,act like it!"
"I don't know what you want from me, John" Sherlock said as he stared out the window. He was refusing to look at John; he was shutting down.
"I want you to tell me how you got those scars, the ones on your chest" John said, " We both know I saw them. How'd you get them? How did you get shot?"
"I don't know what you're talking about" Sherlock said vacantly. Zombie mode.
John was infuriated. It was so difficult for him to deal with Sherlock when he was like this. "You're going to deny that you have three big gapping scars on your chest?" John said.
Sherlock stared out the window. Nothing. He was in full shut down mode, John had seen it before. John shook his head. " You're bloody impossible, you know that?" he said. " I don't even know who you are anymore"
"Of course you do" Sherlock said, " I'm Sherlock, you're John. We know exactly who we are"
"Except that we don't Sherlock" John walked over to the window. Sherlock refused to look at him, at least directly. John could see Sherlock look at him occasionally out of the corner of his eye. At least he had his attention somewhat. "We don't know who we are…well at least I don't. Maybe you can pretend you have it all figured out but I don't. My world is upside down…..you were gone for three years and it was HARD….really hard. Then you show up and it's still hard. To figure out who you are now because it sure isn't the same person who left three years ago. I know its tough for you….its hard for me and I can only imagine that you went through a lot more hell than I did."
Sherlock stared out the window. John tried to read his face but there was nothing there. He was emotionless, or at least appeared to be.
"Please don't do this" John said, trying to control the slight desperation in his voice. " Don't shut me out. God, Sherlock. I missed you, I…..still miss you" Emotion was thick in his voice and he hated himself for it. Sherlock didn't say anything but he knew he could hear it. It was hard to miss.
"Say something Sherlock" John almost pleaded. He felt very much like he was here with his heart on his sleeve and he just wanted Sherlock to say something. His therapist had once observed that he had trust issues and it hit the nail right on the head. John didn't trust people; he had been hurt too many times in the past and he learned to keep people at an arms distance; except Sherlock. From day one he had placed his trust in Sherlock. He wasn't sure why he had trusted him so from the very beginning but he had. But sharing his feelings with Sherlock was hard; he was completely vulnerable.
Sherlock finally turned away from the window and faced John. " Why John?" he asked " Why would I say something? So I can handle this whole thing as poorly as you?"
John was confused. " I'm sorry, I don't follow?" he said.
"Look at you John" Sherlock said motioning to him. " You're a mess. You have been a mess since I've shown up. Hiding behind the bottle, starving yourself, hardly taking care of yourself. Look how emotional you are now- it isn't necessary. Why would I want to handle this like you? If you expect me to fall apart like you have then you can just give up now. I'm not weak like that"
Sherlock's words cut John down as deeply as any words ever had. John had been transparent with Sherlock, admitted he was struggling, and admitted it was hard, admitted he had missed him all this time and Sherlock had just…..been Sherlock. Cold, calculating, completely void of feelings. John wished Sherlock would have sucker punched him; it would have hurt a thousand times less than his words. Not only did he not admit that he missed John, but he called John weak. Weak for feeling, weak for caring.
"Sherlock" John said, biting back the emotion that threatened to choke him " You're bloody horrible. You're just terrible. You can't even be human for a second" he looked up at Sherlock, in those ice blue eyes " I've always defended you…..always stood up for you. People think you're horrible for the terrible things that you always say and I've always stepped in and defended you"
He had always thought he knew Sherlock, the real Sherlock. People dismissed him as a total jerk because they didn't know him, John thought. John knew that deep down inside Sherlock was a soul, a heart that felt things. Or so he thought.
"I am sorry to have disappointed you John" Sherlock said though he didn't sound sorry at all. " I simply make observations, I simply tell the truth. Did I say something that wasn't true?"
John looked down at the ground and shook his head "No Sherlock, you didn't say anything that wasn't true" he could feel anger and hurt well up inside him until it was almost unbearable. He looked back up at Sherlock; if he was going to say this he was going to make Sherlock look at him. " It was all true Sherlock. I'm sure you don't need me to confirm it because you are so brilliant you hardly need me to tell you anything. You're right, I AM a mess. You're right about it all; when you left I stopped eating, stopped taking care of myself, did only the things I needed to to keep going on surviving. Because that's all it was, surviving. Not living, no certainly not living. You're right about the drinking too; as much as I hated it, I was turning out just like Harry. It was the only thing that could remotely get me through the day. But I'm sure you knew that too; I'm sure that night Stamford brought me home in a drunken stupor you knew, you just knew because you're so superior, that I had drunk myself practically unconscious- over YOU!" John's voice had gradually risen until it was a full scale shout now. If the neighbors hadn't been awake, they were now " I've been torturing myself over YOU! And why? I have no idea….I've no idea why I put up with your shit. But no more….."
Sherlock's face wasn't cold anymore but rather confused. He didn't seem moved, but John had done something he wasn't sure was possible; he had made Sherlock Holmes speechless. Sherlock made noises as if starting to say words, but he kept stopping. John didn't want to be around when he regained his voice; he couldn't bear to hear Sherlock's deductions on John's rant.
Before Sherlock could say anything, John turned around and left the flat, leaving a very confused Sherlock still standing by the window.
…
John wasn't sure how long he walked before he realized how terribly stupid it was that he was yet again driven out of his own home because of Sherlock. It was a beautiful night, with the full moon shinning and the stars out clearly, but it was cold and John quickly regretted running out in his pyjamas. It wasn't long before he was shivering; he wasn't sure how much shivering was from true cold and how much was from anger.
John didn't know what to think anymore. He had always thought he knew Sherlock and now he wasn't so sure. Even in the beginning John felt he somehow saw something that no one else did; everyone around Sherlock insulted him and mocked him. No one seemed to notice how amazing he could be. John had found this strange at the time, but now he wondered if the reason people acted this way was because they were just tired of Sherlock's attitude and ego. If they were, John could understand now.
John could still hear Sherlock's panicked cries in his ears from his dream and part of John tried to convince him that there must still be the old Sherlock in there, but John told that part of himself that it was wrong. John walked faster down the street; the faster he walked, the easier it got to ignore the voices.
John didn't know how long it took, walking down the street at such a fast speed that his legs burned, but at some point the thickness in his throat turned into a full blown sob. It escaped his throat and he choked. No tears came; his body just shook in waves as his emotion took him over. It was somehow worse that he couldn't get any tears out; it was almost as if the sobbing didn't lessen the pain any like regular crying might. John knew that he should stop walking, but in the dead of the night with his body shaking, he couldn't stop.
Stupid, awful Sherlock, John got lost in his own thoughts, I'm not putting myself in this position anymore. Maybe me and Sherlock just need space….yes, I definitely need to get away from Sherlock." Another sob escaped his throat, except that this one was not completely dry. Moisture came to his eyes. "Except that I don't want to be away from Sherlock….I don't-
John was so upset that he didn't notice that he wandered into the street. He was so upset that he didn't see the car coming…..