Organised Chaos - Sherlock x Reader

LXIII • 63

Your POV:

"What happened to Sebastian?" You asked your brother, chewing your lip. You'd been sitting on your bed in C petting Bowie since you'd been released from the hospital an hour before.
"He was arrested." John answered, his face grim.
"How long?"
"The prosecutor is trying for life without parole. I can't imagine any other outcome."
You sighed with relief. "Good. I don't think I could stay in London if he were back on the streets." You paused a moment, then, "I'm sorry, John, I'm really sorry."
"(F/N), there's nothing to be sorry for, what're you on about?"
"Every man I meet is set on killing people. I don't get it, Johnny. Why do I attract murderers?"
He sighed and gathered you in a hug. "(N/N), it's not you, I promise. It was originally Moriarty, he just used you to get to Sherlock and it wasn't your fault. Sebastian was out for revenge because he lost who he thought was his friend."
"But why was he so nice to me? He was a close friend for a year and a half, John."
"He was a psychopath (F/N). He had controlled rage and he was building it up."
You hung your head for a long moment. When you looked up, a tear dripped off your nose. "I want Sherlock back. He never tried to kill me."

******
Sherlock's POV:

It was about seven in the morning when the doctor came in.
He smiled when he saw I was awake and pushed his glasses up his nose. "Ah, good morning Mr. Holmes. How're you feeling?"
"Fine." I lied.
"Excellent." He glanced at my morphine tab. "Halfway. Hum, yes, that's good. Very good. Shall we try coming down a bit?" He spoke fast and sounded anxious, his eyes darting back and forth throughout the room, but never looking at me specifically, as though he was anticipating something.
"When can I leave?" I asked through gritted teeth.
He frowned at me. "Mr. Holmes, your abdominal muscles were torn apart, you suffered immense internal bl-"
"Don't bore me with the details, please. When. Can. I. Leave?" I cut him off.
He looked rather taken aback. "I- I wouldn't suggest your leaving for at least another couple of days."
"Capitol, thank you." I spoke sarcastically, then shooed him with my hand. "Better go for your smoke break now. Just don't let the other doctors see- it's generally frowned upon in your profession."
He looked flustered and his hands shook so he nearly dropped his clipboard. I saw him break a sweat and he shoved his glasses back up again, then swallowed hard.
"Oh please, it's obvious." I said, replying to his unasked question with a roll of my eyes.
He didn't move so I continued. "The nerves, the sweat, the shaky hands. You've shook them out twice now. Tingly? Oh and you've cleared your throat several times since you began talking. It's really quite obvious, the withdrawal, if you know what to look for." I felt my mouth quirk up at the frightened look on his face.
He said nothing else but scuttled out of the room.
I laid my head back, unsure of what to do. John would kill me if I left the hospital without release, but I couldn't be cooped up in here for several more days. I was already restless and I needed something to occupy my brain. Deducing my doctor's tobacco habit had barely tided me over.
I tried sitting up, ignoring my body protesting. I'd barely moved before I gave up. The pain was immense, and for all I knew, I'd cause the internal bleeding to start again.
John was right. I needed to accept my limitations. It was so difficult, though. I wasn't used to not being able to do anything. Sure, I'd been capable of sitting unmoving for days at a time, but that was when I had a problem to solve.
I closed my eyes and tried to dig up something to spend my time on. An unsolved case from the papers, perhaps.

******

Your POV:

You'd told Sebastian six months ago that you had finally accepted Sherlock's passing. You suddenly didn't feel that way anymore. Maybe because of the emotional shock of someone- someone who you'd finally begun really trusting after a friendship of a year and a half- trying to kill you. Maybe because you needed him now more than ever.
At this point you'd decided it was no longer worth trying to make friends. You'd just stick with Bowie and Kenzie and John.
You didn't need anybody else.
Or at least you tried to convince yourself of that.
You missed having a man who didn't try to kill you.
You missed having a man who loved you unconditionally, a man who'd do anything for you, even adjust his way of life. He'd changed everything about himself to please you because he loved you. He really had loved you. You missed his voice, his smell, his embrace, his kiss- you missed every little aspect of him. He'd still been working on changing for you, and he had made mistakes. He'd still been rude and forthright on occasion, even if it was at the expense of another. And yet, he'd tried for you. He'd tried to fix things he'd messed up, and he'd apologised when he couldn't.
He couldn't fix this, though. He couldn't come back, and you couldn't bring him back either.