Tall Buildings and Pill Bottles - A Johnlock Story

Pain in the Side

John POV

Sherlock and I had decided to sleep separately last night, after watching crap Telly and listening to his violin playing last night. Even though we've only been together a few days, it was harder to sleep without him. His bony, yet still soft body was missing from my side and I felt colder.

It was silly, we'd only been together for a few days and I was already acting like a love struck fool. After a few hours of tossing and turning, I eventually got up to get a glass of water. I shuffled into the main area of the flat and was surprised to find Sherlock sitting in his chair. He was in his chair, same rumpled PJs that he'd worn when he went to bed, or when I thought he went to bed. His hands were steepled under his chin.

"Sherlock?" I asked, breaking him out of concentration. He looked up, his hands going to the arms of his chair. "Oh, John, I didn't see you there," his voice was barely above a whisper. "What are you doing up?" I asked after a few moments of silence. Neither of us had moved since the conversation began, so I slid over to my own chair and plopped down.

"Same as you, couldn't sleep." He answered, yet his voice wavered. To anyone else, his voice would've been completely emotionless, yet I had quickly learned to detect the emotion behind his voice and facial expressions. He'd put up so many barriers in his life, from the bullying, the abuse and everything else.

"Is there anything else?" I asked, shifting forward in my seat and placing a comforting hand on his knee. He looked at me warily for a moment before his face fell. "John," he breathed, the anxiety and sadness showing clear on his face. "It's alright, you can tell me," he lowered his gaze, for a moment, before it flickered back up to me. His eyes gleamed with so many different colors that I couldn't tell which one there was more of.

"Since it is technically morning now, today is the 20 year anniversary of when my father was arrested." His voice became thick with emotion and I saw tears at the back of his eyes before he shook his head and cleared his throat. I felt my eyes fill with sympathy.

"Sherlock..." my voice trailed off and I reached for his hand. I squeezed it, a gesture he returned. "That day was the last day I saw him, I never visited him in jail, and my medical records and my brother spoke for me in the trial. I was still in the hospital, but the attorney questioned me in the hospital and used my answers in court. He died in jail a few years ago, the one moderately good thing to come from it." I pulled him up and into a hug for a moment before cupping his face. He wrapped his hands around my wrists, and we stood there for a moment.

"I am so sorry, Sherlock. I will never let anyone hurt you again," I promised, meaning every word. He smiled sadly at me and our foreheads gravitated together. I wiped the single, solitude tear from Sherlock's cheek, and a sudden anger flared in my chest. People hurt him, over and over, so much so that he had shut out all of his emotions, becoming a seemingly emotionless robot. But no, all of the emotions he'd shut out were still there, just undetectable if you didn't know him.

I sighed and broke just far enough away to study him. "Let's go to bed, hm?" I prompted, lightly tugging on his arm. He nodded and began to walk with me when he suddenly gasped and clutched his side, right where the bullet wound had been. "Sherlock!" I exclaimed worriedly. I ran to his side as he fell to the ground in pain. He groaned in pain, for a few minutes as I tried to pry the wrapping off the wound. He pushed me away, and after a few seconds, the pain seemed to subside. He sat there, panting for a few moments, before speaking.

"I'm fine John, just a bit of pain." He managed to get out between breaths. I shot him a glare, it was obviously not just a bit of pain. "Sherlock Holmes, I am a doctor, let me see it," I exclaimed, raising my voice a little, but only to a normal speaking level. His eyes shone with fear. "John, I don't want you to see..." he stammered, attempting to explain something, but I couldn't figure out want he was talking about.