Falling For You

Tea

John woke up in Sherlock's arms. He could remember waking up in the dark room that Moriarty had taken him to. He had been strapped to a chair in the corner of the room and then Sherlock was there and... Sherlock. John Watson remembered everything that Sherlock had said. About the lies he had been telling for John. About not loving him. John felt sick to his stomach. If Sherlock didn't care, why was he carrying John up the stairs of Baker Street to their flat?

"Sherlock..." John began. Sherlock silenced the doctor with a loving kiss on his forehead, his neck straining to lean down and plant a reassuring kiss on John's head.

"You need to rest," Sherlock said. John rolled his eyes, but he was so tired. It was annoying to be tired after being drugged for a bit, but John couldn't help but feel his eyelids get heavy and sink back down, pushing him into a dreamless sleep.

Sherlock sat in the bed next to John when he slept. He felt a bit creepy, just watching him sleep, but he wanted to make sure that he was okay. He was so out of it back with Moriarty that Sherlock had to carry John to the cab and then to Baker Street. At one point, John started sleep talking. It was mostly nonsensical, but Sherlock tried responding anyway. But then John was out completely, so Sherlock got up to make some tea.

When he came back into the bedroom with a tray with all of the needed supplies for tea on it, John was awake. He was sitting up in the bed and looking straight ahead, thinking. Sherlock figured that John was thinking about Moriarty, probably recalling some horrible things that Moriarty had done to him before Sherlock had arrived, but John was thinking about Sherlock.

"You're up," Sherlock noticed, setting the tray of tea down on his bedside table.

"And you made tea," John observed, curious as to why Sherlock had suddenly started showing lots of romantic affection, especially after saying he didn't care about John at all.

"Thought you might be... thirsty or something," Sherlock shrugged, making John a cup of tea. John watched Sherlock pour him a cuppa and then he took it when Sherlock handed it his way.

"Thanks," John replied, unable to say anything else.

Silence.

"John?" Sherlock asked, piercing the silence.

John parted his tea from his lips and looked up at Sherlock. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry that Moriarty took you," Sherlock said, his face turned in pain.

John found himself moving closer to Sherlock, and then he wrapped his arm around his slender friend. "He drugged you too, Sherl," John reminded him.

Sherlock allowed himself to be comforted by John's warm embrace. He buried his head into John's jumper, ignoring the tears threatening him.

"I should have been smarter I should have deduced that he would come after you. I'm sorry I'm not good enough, John. I'm sorry I couldn't keep you safe today," Sherlock whimpered.

John felt salty tears leak through his shirt. He looked over at Sherlock and saw his inky curls bobbing up and down with each pathetic sob. He couldn't tell if Sherlock was crying to cry or if he was actually feeling bad about Moriarty abducting John. It was hard to tell, but John didn't question him. John was just there for him in case he needed him because, at least in that moment, it didn't matter if Sherlock loved him because John Watson was totally in love with Sherlock.

"I forgive you," John said.

"Thank you," Sherlock said.

More silence followed.

"Sherlock?" John asked, ready to interrogate his love.

Sherlock looked up and dried his nose on his sleeve, his stormy eyes staring at John like a lost puppy.

John couldn't do it. "I love you," he said instead.

Sherlock smiled weakly and pulled John into a passionate but gentle kiss.

"Thank you."