25 Days of Christmas
Chapter 18
18 December, 2013
John hadn't come back last night, and Sherlock had lied awake the entire time, feeling nothing and everything all at once. Really, the only thing he could do was lie there. He had no inclination to move, and only did so when his phone chimed around noon the next day. He hoped it was John. And he was sorely disappointed.
Nick is innocent. Solid alibi. The first two he wasn't anywhere near London, and the last one he was robbing a shop during the whole thing. Keeping him for further questioning, but Mycroft doesn't really think it's him anymore.
Sherlock read the lengthy text, feeling the stone in his stomach gain a tonne. So it had all been for nothing. He set aside his mobile and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, it was well into the evening. He glanced at his phone screen to check the time, and noticed that he had twenty unread messages and six missed calls. All from John.
A surge of panic shot through him before his ears picked up tinny laughter from the sitting room. The telly was on. He hadn't left it on, had he? No, he hadn't touched the thing in days. Cautiously, he left his room and tip-toed through the kitchen. Peeking around the doorframe, he spotted John sitting on the sofa, leaning most of his weight onto his arm, which was propped on the armrest beside him. The telly was on, but John wasn't watching it - his eyes were focused on something far away.
Sherlock wasn't quite sure what motivated him to do what he did next; he only knew that he felt small and lonely, and generally unhappy, and in need of companionship. A concoction of feelings he had felt often, but rarely revealed to others. It hadn't reared its ugly head in a while, however, and he was unaccustomed to the feeling. So perhaps it made sense that he had crept over to the opposite edge of the couch, seeking clemency. He hesitated only for a moment before he slid across the cushions, conforming himself to John's side. He proceeded to rest his head in John's lap, every muscle tense, ready to flee should the need arise.
There was a moment's pause (John hadn't even seemed to notice him until their bodies had come into contact, but surely he had now), during which Sherlock questioned every aspect of himself and just why he had bothered with this, and why did he care, why wasn't he angry at John for being angry with him - but then a warm hand rested somewhere on the skin between his shoulder and ribs. Sherlock flinched, and John let out a sad sort of breath, not quite a sigh. Sherlock nearly stood and retreated back to his room, but the sensation of fingers in his curls stopped him, held him there. It took everything in him not to make a surprised sort of noise. Sherlock still felt as if he was breaching some sort of barrier, breaking some sort of code, but John was still carding his fingers through his hair, occasionally massaging his scalp, almost lovingly. So there Sherlock stayed. Eventually, he relaxed.
"I just worry about you, you know," John whisper-said after a long silence. Sherlock responded by nuzzling further into his friend's thigh. John swept a few stray curls from Sherlock's wide eyes, leaning over a bit to view his face. Sherlock made no move to return the gaze. John sighed. "Just... I know I can't control you, keep you on a leash - you're a grown man... but..." There was a lengthy pause. Sherlock had nearly given up on hearing the rest of it. "Just, call me next time. Or wait a bit. I hate seeing you hurt." At that, John's fingers softly caressed the blemish under Sherlock's eye. It had really swelled over the hours.
Sherlock was touched, but instead of warm and fuzzy, the feeling spreading through his chest was white-hot (almost cold) and itchy (more of a sting). He closed his eyes and swallowed, furious at himself for varying reasons. He tried to focus on drawing in calm, controlled breaths.
If John noticed, he didn't say anything.
'Twas the season. Particularly one of mercy, it seemed tonight.
A/N: While I did use the word "skin" Sherlock is fully clothed. I was just reading through that and thought I would clarify. Wasn't sure what I should switch it to. Making up was nice though, right?