Tall Buildings and Pill Bottles - A Johnlock Story

Shaky Days part 2

John's POV

It took hours for Sherlock to explain it all to me. His voice had gone raw and cracked from crying and talking, and I'd made him stop twice so that he would drink some water to not get dehydrated. Once he'd finished, I was unable to speak, I was so stunned. Mycroft had done so much for him, and they'd once been so close. Sherlock had felt so betrayed when Mycroft had put him in the mental health ward, and hadn't forgiven him. Though, recently, Mycroft had been making more attempts to make amends, and these attempts were now not completely ignored by Sherlock.

I was sitting on the couch, sometimes he would pace, other times he just lay with his head in my lap while he talked. "It's been a year and 6 months since I attempted suicide, one year and 3 months since I got out of the hospital." He ended with his head in my lap, his hands in mine. I nodded, and kissed his cheek.

"I am so, so sorry love" I whispered. "I can't even begin to describe how sorry I am," I let going one of his hands to stroke his hair, and he let out a little chuckle. "what is it?" I asked, confused.

"Victor and I would've never worked out anyways. We fought all the time, about anything and everything. We wanted different things for our lives. But, I don't even need to think of Victor anymore, I have you." Sherlock gave me a small smile. I felt a smile spread across my face, butterflies fluttering in my stomach, my heart melting. "I love you."

"As I love you," his small smile grew wider. I leaned down to kiss him briefly, our lips moving in synchronization. I pulled away after a moment. "Bedtime?" he nodded, it was well after nine, and he was exhausted from today. I pulled him up and helped him into our room. We both hadn't changed into actual clothes that day but change into clean pajamas for the night. Sherlock fell asleep quickly, curled up next to me with his head on my chest, but I couldn't sleep.

My mind kept returning to everything he had told me, spinning with all of the information, trying to process it all. I was eventually lulled to sleep but Sherlock's even breathing, my mind still spinning in circles.

When I awoke, Sherlock was gone. I knew even before I opened my eyes, yes, the familiar warmth gone from my side. I sat up, frowning, he almost never woke up before me. I heard clanking coming from the other room, and threw the covers off.

I followed the sounds out to the kitchen, where Sherlock stood working on an experiment. "Love?" I asked, trying to get his attention. His head snapped up, his eyes wide. "Oh, John. I didn't see you there." He said simply, awkwardly shifting on one foot.

"You alright, love?" I asked, beginning to get quite concerned. He waved a hand, "oh I'm fine, why wouldn't I be fine," He muttered. I crossed my arms, leaning against the doorway. "Oh, I don't know, maybe you're upset about everything you told me about yesterday," I suggested kindly.

He shook his head stubbornly, curls flying. I sighed, he obviously didn't feel like talking about it anymore. "I'll be in there reading if you want to talk to me, love, alright?" He had gone back to his experiment and just nodded. After hesitating for a moment, I walked over and gave him a light peck on the cheek before walking out to the sitting room.

He worked he worked on his experiment for hours, not once even looking up. I was beginning to get worried, he wasn't usually like this, even when he was upset. Sometime in the afternoon, I went in there to make tea when I saw the rather large shopping list on the fridge. We really needed to get more groceries, and soon. I plucked it off, "Sherlock, I'm going to head to the store to buy a few things, need anything?" He shook his head no at first, before changing his mind.

"Yes actually, can you run by Scotland Yard, Lestrade has a case for us, it's a six, but I told him I'd take a look at it." I nodded and left, unsure of how to react. His usually musical voice was quipped and tight like a rubber band pulled tautly. I hailed a cab and looked back up at our flat. Sherlock was standing in the window, peeking out at me. His face was saddened, gaunt, and almost ill-looking. A shiver ran down my spine, looking him in such a state.