Not Broken, Just Bent (BBC Sherlock)

Aftermath

Note: I still obviously don't own. If I did, I'd be leaking how Sherlock survived all over the Internet. I wish. Sorry about the lateness on my part. School was terrible the last week or so. Just so you're aware, I did steal the last quote from Doctor Who. Obviously guys. Just felt the need to. Enjoy.

Pain prickled around the soft edges of his eyes as a dark blood-red color, raw from the tears. They probably looked as hollow and empty as they felt, devoid of any emotion, any spark. So blank and void. Bare and anguish ridden, his eyes truly were the passageways to his soul. Inside his own shiny irises, a torrent of travail and self-malevolence, a vision of haunting that was well kept cloaked before. Fury and hate, worry and tribulation battled each other viciously, a swirling war between the two. The good doctor was exhausted, his face pale and glum, even in the light thrown over it. Bags creased the skin around his eyes, forming a dark circle around them. John felt exposed. He felt exposed even when he was alone like this, and more so now that Sherlock has suddenly decided to act in some kinda of weird comforting manner after the good doctor had unwillingly taken an attempt on his life.

And so he had hesitated before glancing up to look into the tall detective's eyes, not knowing what to expect in reaction to... well. Himself. His true inside, no matter how tormented it may be. John's past was not shared lightly. To anybody. Yet for some reason, he felt the overwhelming need to tell Sherlock everything. About how he failed, about how he feels, about everything that has ever haunted his mind. Even if the detective lies and deceives to get what he wants, has no utter concern for others emotions, and the occasional experimentation on his best friend. John did let him in, didn't he? The doctor was still unsure why he did that, he always could have talked through the door, would have made things much less awkward.

Now, however, Sherlock sat increasingly closer to him, offering a perplexing hand on his back. When John looked up, he couldn't help the small gasp of surprise that escaped him. Worry danced like the flicker of a flame across the path of the detective's normally deadpanned gaze. Emotions like he had never seen before waltzed around using Sherlock's typically cold and calculating stare. John had expected the worst, just knowing that the sociopath's eyes would be filled with disgust, antipathy, and rejection.

Instead, the bright eyes were brimmed with warmth, worry, concern, and acceptance. A look that sent hope shimmering up his spine and radiating from his heart. And in that moment he knew that everything would be alright, and that he could get through everything that John's past hurls at him.

Sherlock didn't move at first, in those terrifying few moments following his glance towards him. John supposed the detective was attempting to deduce, or maybe just thinking about what to say or do. And then, in total Sherlock-way, the man lifted his arms and wrapped them strangely around John from a sideways angle, in somewhat an awkward bear hug. Of course he did. Well, so much for not being awkward. It's blown right out of the water now. Great.

"People will definitely talk now." John's voice was a dry and harsh rasp, probably from all the crying, even though he lightly chuckled with every word. Neither knew what it was, most likely all the stress and worry and pain, but the two broke into hysterical laughter, high-pitched giggles that echoed off the walls and resounded through the night.

When the laughter finally subsides, both men experiencing pain in their abdomen and in their cheeks, firm from the smiles planted on their giddy faces. During the fit of laughter, Sherlock hadn't released John from his grasp, his deep baritone buzzing in the doctor's ears. As they settle, John's smile disappears.

"Sherlock?" John asked in the darkness. The answer was instantaneous. "Yes, John?" The detective replied. John inhaled sharply, his breath hitching in his throat. "I'm sorry." He pinched his eyes closed as a wave of guilt washed over him.

Sherlock shook his head, the ends of his curls brushing up against John's neck, and the doctor was quickly aware of the proximity between them. "Oh, John. You are always and completely forgiven."