Organised Chaos - Sherlock x Reader

XLI • 41

I texted Sherlock again after you'd left for work.

She's having nightmares now. She screamed last night. She said you'd come back and hurt her, then you'd turned into Jim. She's not getting over this.

I typed this almost resentfully. I wanted him to know just how much he was hurting you, if not physically.
Despite myself, I felt bad after sending it. I didn't really want to blame him. He had tried to do the right thing. I knew that if there had been any other way, he'd have done it.

Sherlock's POV:

My spirits fell when I read his latest message. The last thing I wanted was for you to believe that I would ever purposely hurt you. I knew all too well that dreams were based on reality.
Were you afraid that I would hurt you?
I wanted nothing more than to go back to Baker Street and envelope you in a hug, hold you until you weren't afraid anymore. Until you knew I was real, that you weren't just dreaming again.
But once again, unfortunate reality set in, and I knew that wasn't an option.
That desire drove me to intensify my efforts to finish tearing apart Moriarty's web.

Your POV:

Work was slow today. Oh, there were plenty of customers and you were rushing around enough, but it was still slow.
You kept thinking about what you'd said to John last. 'He was mine.'
He hadn't said much after that and you feared you'd done something wrong. You didn't push it though. Perhaps he was thinking about how he had been the only one Sherlock had until you showed up. Despite Sherlock's earlier confirmations that John had already begun drifting, you knew that he was still a big part of your brother's life. You felt selfish for having screamed about a stupid dream, then crying and saying that he'd been yours.
You shook your head, clearing it. You needed to focus on your work.

John's POV:

I had been rather stupefied when you'd said it. 'He was mine.'
Sherlock had been my best friend. But it was true, I'd drifted. It wasn't intentional, but I'd been working more, out with other friends, my girlfriend at the time. I'd been drifting and I didn't realise just how much I'd taken him for granted until he was suddenly yours.
I'd been jealous, I'll admit, but I soon got over it, because you made him happy. I'd never seen him so happy. Before, he'd taken the drugs when he was depressed. Then it was the cigarettes- he'd not completely kicked that one until you showed up. There was obviously something different about you. You intrigued him so thoroughly that he'd fallen in love with you. Now that was a feat all its own. Sherlock cared for very, very few, myself being one of them. But he had never been in love with someone.

Your POV:

You thought about him as you worked. Not about what he'd done, or about how it made you feel. No, about the good things. You thought about the memories of the two of you- the times he'd put you to sleep playing softly, the times you saw him asleep, violin still in his lap. The first time you'd helped him with his experiment. The bloody blood. You chuckled to yourself.
That was how you wanted to remember him. You were done being angry at him. You just wanted to remember him as the man you loved, the man who loved you back in his own special way.
You suddenly felt as though a weight had been lifted from your shoulders.
The anger, sorrow, depression- it seemed to lift away as you remembered everything good about him.
You shuffled around the café, serving a table there, cleaning one here. It wasn't terribly busy, but there was still plenty to do.
You made your way up to a newly occupied table near the corner. It was a man, sitting by himself with his back turned to you. He had mud brown hair, clipped short, but not buzzed. He had just a shadow of facial hair, and watery blue eyes. They seemed almost sad when he looked up at you.
You were slightly startled, but began your routine.
He didn't answer when you asked him about his drink preference. He simply said, "Hi. I'm Sebastian."