When a vacancy opens for a decent flat in central London, and for such a good price, who are you to decline it?
While expecting a peaceful living arrangement to develop paintings for the gallery you work for, instead you're dragged into unexpected...
He felt his heartbreak more than it had already been.
Your h/c hair looked just the same it did two years ago, eyes bright and full of life like the first day he met you. While he felt the need to yell in pure fury or maybe cheer in pure joy to thank whatever was out there, he couldn't. He couldn't do that because his knees buckled. Falling to in front of you with tears suddenly rushing out.
In the moment of pure relief, he chokes out a sob while you fall in front of him, holding his face. Not a word was spoken, Sherlock simply taking in the feeling of your skin against his, the soft perfume dragging him back to almost forgotten memories.
Heavy and uneven breaths, Sherlock's reaction was starting to worry you, "Sherlock, deep breaths, slow down," you whisper, trying to calm him as best you could.
"I'm trying," he whimpers, "I was trying so hard," his shaking hands take yours, head leaning onto your shoulder.
"I know, I know," pushing back his hair, you press your forehead against his, closing your eyes. "I'm so sorry, Sherlock." When you said his name, he felt a bit of his heart mend. "I'm so, so sorry,"
"I thought I lost you forever... I can't lose you, Y/n," the tears soon dried but choked out words and uneven stammers didn't stop. "I'm a mess. An absolute fucking mess," confessing his state was the first time anyone had seen him admitting his habits had turned sour. "I couldn't bear it. You mean too much to me,"
"Well you look a mess," you try to lighten the mood, sighing when he laughs just a little.
That small ounce of joy expressed lifted a weight from Mrs H, John and Mary so quickly they nearly stumbled back from shock; of course this shock adding to the confusing revelation that you, Y/n L/n were still alive.
Gently, slowly, you embrace him. Letting him choose what to do. He wanted it all, make up for lost time. Unmade memories. He felt obligated, owing that much to whatever brought you back into his life. His dull life.
Emotions were clouding his hazed mind, but whatever anger he should feel dissipates into the air. Hate was not an option. While rage would come as a close second, relief was what had him forget it all.
All the pain you caused him, for whatever reason it was needed, he ignored it.
~~~
"Two years..." you use the blade to swipe off his stubble, "what daring cases has my detective been up to?"
Sherlock felt his throat dry as you tilt his face away. "None..."
"None?" You laugh, "good one," but soon you realised this wasn't a jest. "What have you been doing all this time??"
"Nothing..." he glances around Mrs Hudson's guest bathroom, thanking her internally for not letting you see the state of the flat upstairs.
"Mhm, including not taking care of yourself," you let the blade clean in the sink of water. "Hardly three meals a day, barely any water, horrible habits which I thought you promised to quit doing,"
"You can't criticising my coping, Y/n," he defends, "you have no idea what it was like to lose- to think you lost one of the most important people in your life,"
"Thing is, Sherlock, I don't know what it's like to have thought... all I know is the feeling of losing someone so important- one of the only people you in the world that mattered at the time," cloth wiped away any last bits of shaving cream, "I had no choice but to leave- to fake my death, Sherlock," turning away to clean up, you try to keep your emotions down.
"I don't want to fight," he mutters out, getting up from the chair, "I just got you back... I don't want to push you away,"
"I expected you to yell- I want to encourage it, in fact," you were kind of lost at his reaction. He did understand what you had done, right? The weight of doing such a thing?
"Wouldn't be fair, would it?" he places both hands on the sink, trapping you between him and said sink. "I did the exact thing to John... but to be fair I was trying to take down-"
"Moriarty's network, I know," moving so your arms were around his neck, "oddly enough I was doing to same- but my network... at least the parts corrupted by that bastard Andres and his brother Louis,"
"I don't care- and I mean that in the most lovely way possible because I just... missed you,"
You could feel how drained he was. Hardly any nutrition and sent into this frenzy of news and revelation. "Movie night?"
"Skipping the movie part?" he raises a brow.
"As we seem to usually do," taking his still tremoring hands, you led him out the door and up the stairs but he gives a small tug to stop you.
"Y/n," any aura of confidence or content was thrown out the window at this moment, "wait,"
"Sherlock, I know damn well the flat is going to be a mess-"
"No, just listen," his grip tightens like you were his lifeline at this moment. "When you- when I thought you died in the fire that night, all these years I regretted one thing," Sherlock's eyes avoided you at all costs, "I wish I said it, or somehow showed you. I've never really been like this and- well, I have no idea what's too soon or- I don't actually expect you to say it back,"
"I love you too," you cut him off without a second doubt, those words causing those in his throat to disappear. The child-like wonder in his eyes, a glint of pure joy was enough to see that he was more relieved than before. "I do love you, and I am sorry, and if at any point you want to redo this whole thing where you react like a normal person then-"
Sherlock grabs you by the waist, hands holding you close before kissing you longingly. That simple kiss gave him the ability to rid a burdening weight from his shoulders, his chest suddenly feeling lighter and... he felt safe. "I love you so much." You weren't going to leave him at the news. You weren't going to backtrack. You love him and he loves you, that was all that mattered.
"Come on, Mr detective, I think it's about time that vacancy was filled, hm?" You wait for a reply but Sherlock simply gives you another kiss. Just one. Almost making sure this was real, that you were really here.
And you were.
You were here, here with him, and that's all that mattered.
~~~
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