Reference to self-harm. It isn't as grim as it may seem right now, I promise, as you will find out before long. All recognisable content belongs to its respective owners.
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John sat in his chair that evening and watched Sherlock's violin, which stood leaning against the wall near the window. He had missed Sherlock so much that it had hurt, for years, during the time when he had been gone because of the fall, back in the dark days when John thought him dead. And now, having truly been with him all this time, he could not even imagine losing him again.
He kept staring out the window as he wracked his head for what to do. A solution, any solution. Maybe there was something he could do? To make things easier on Sherlock? But he had to admit he had not even known anything was wrong, Sherlock had seemed very happy to him this last year, even more so after last Christmas, when they had made their last big leap in touch, as Sherlock had suddenly started to enjoy having his back rubbed.
It had made their relationship another step more equal in that way, and that had in turn made it even happier. At least, so John had thought. Apparently, Sherlock had not thought so at all.
It was with a sinking sensation in his stomach that John had to admit to himself that how much help could he truly be, if he could not even see it? What was it Sherlock always said to him "you see but you do not observe"? For the first time, John though that maybe that was true - he had always thought he merely observed other things than Sherlock did, but maybe he truly was a bit blind. or a lot, even, to miss something like this going on right before him.
He was thinking about the events of late, what could have possibly triggered something like that happening, make Sherlock even consider hurting himself in that way, when it finally hit him. Only days ago, he had tried giving Sherlock a massage, using massage oil this time, which was a bit of a leap from what he usually did. And there were other instances, recently, just touching, being close.
What if Sherlock had tried to hurt himself because of something he had done? John was a man of action, who liked to solve problems and was frankly addicted to adrenaline and danger, but if he was the issue, how could he solve anything at all? How could he protect his Sherlock, if he himself was the problem?
Sherlock watched John. His doctor was sat in his armchair, ignoring the rest of the world. He was watching first Sherlock's violin and then staring outside through the window. This would not normally have been a cause for concern, but the former soldier had not moved in over three hours, and the detective had started to wonder if everything as quite alright. Was he really quite this frustrating when he was caught up in his own head? He doubted it.
John had insisted on stitching the very shallow cut Sherlock had accidentally made while testing the edge of a knife in order to get just the right effect in his baking - turns out the knife was too sharp - which was not like John at all. Normally, much as he enjoyed fussing over Sherlock, the blogger never did anything doctory when it wasn't needed (even if the need somethimes was merely emotional) and it was usually was very unlikely that he were to diagnose anything wrongly, much less so the depth of a measly cut.
So maybe, the consulting detective pondered as he watched his fiance, the question was why John had felt that either of them had that need. What needed to be stitched? Weren't they alright? Well, maybe that was too literal an interpretation. Maybe it was more of a need to be close? Had he scared his doctor? That didn't seem very likely either and he disregarded the theory, continuing to watch John. Then there was the matter of John's strange tone of voice earlier. It was not like him to be so sharp, and whatever else there was in that order. Finally, he had to conclude that whatever that had been about, something really was wrong with John now. This was not normal behaviour for his John.
It was just as uncharacteristic for his very own doctor not to give him any cues as to why he was upset. He had avoided him all evening, even before he sat down in his chair and proceeded to completely ignore him, not touching, not talking, not anything. It was nerv-wracking.
Was he supposed to do something? Or not do something? He couldn't think of anything, but sometimes - alright, all of the time - unwritten rules of relationships were complete and utter gibberish to him. Was there something John was unhappy about? He watched him shift and grow even tenser, and started to worry.
He hadn't thought so, he had thought that they were happy, and John had seemed particularly content as of late, but maybe something was wrong? What did people in relationships do when... whatever this was. Sherlock flipped himself down onto the couch and curled up in the fetal position in what John would have called "a sulk". This was just far too difficult. He couldn't solve this kind of thing - solving this kind of thing was John's job!