Needing You

The Confessions

Sherlock groaned tossing his phone and hearing it hit the wall with a satisfying clatter, he felt his composure inch away the closer he slid to the floor, hands raked through his hair tugging at his curls trying to force himself to stop. The misery in him had exploded. It was agonizing, scraping at his mind and heart all day with raw claws that tore through the skin. He sobbed heavily hearing John's footsteps approach.

John reached the top of the stairs, reached for the door knob, but stopped as he heard the sobs coming from his friend behind the door. John had never heard Sherlock so distressed, and the feeling sat hard in the pit of his stomach. He took a deep breath to try and compose himself before he slowly opened to door to reveal a most pitiful scene. His friend looked broken, and the sight pierced through John's heart like stinging metal. He walked carefully over to Sherlock's side.

"Sherlock?" John asked gently as he slowly approached him.

Sherlock's shoulders slumped what little dignity was holding them up as he heard John's voice.

"What." he spat coldly. His attempt at indifference was severely compromised by his appearance and shaking tone.

"Just leave me be John this isn't...it's not your business." he gulped flinching as John knelt beside him. He couldn't bring himself to lift his head or look at the other man.

John felt cold. Seeing Sherlock like this caused him a pain he could not explain. He laid his hand softly on Sherlock's shoulder.

"It might not be my business, but I am here for you regardless."

"Well isn't that thoroughly useless," Sherlock snarled already on the defensive, like a wounded animal backed into a corner grasping at the last bit of aggression to ward off others.

"Maybe, maybe not." John said as he sat down. He looked around and saw Sherlock's phone smashed upon the ground.

"Whether you want to talk or not, I am here, and not going anywhere."

Sherlock slowly lifted his head following John's gaze to the cracked pieces of technology.

"It felt good to break something." He explained in a raw voice.

John shrugged. "In times of sorrow or anger, breaking something feels necessary, and very good."

Sherlock gulped feeling thickness in his throat. "It was either that or my own bones."

"Yeah, let's not do that." John said. Sherlock's comment shook him deeply, but he put on the brave front of a soldier, and carried on.

"What is it that happened Sherlock. Please talk to me." John said tenderly, trying to hide the fear in his voice.

"You're always so boring," Sherlock commented weakly trying to fish for a joke just falling short.

"Don't you have somewhere to be." he dismissed bitterly. "At home with Mary perhaps and not sitting on the floor with a crying adult?"

"No, not really." John said flatly. "I messaged Mary and told her I would be here for a bit." He looked Sherlock over as he talked. His tear stricken face looked so full of pain it hurt John to look him in the eyes.

"I am here for as long as I need to be."

Sherlock internally rolled his eyes. Of course he did.

"And you told her why?" he asked flatly humiliation creeping on his face.

"No, I left it out." John said with a half-smile. "She didn't need to know."

Taking in a grateful breath he held a small flat smile of gratitude.

"I don't think telling you is the best idea." Sherlock explained slowly.