Organised Chaos - Sherlock x Reader

LXIX • 69

John's proclamation had shocked me. I would never have expected you to care about me at all anymore. I wanted to see you because I still loved you, but I wouldn't have been upset or even a little surprised if you didn't. And then he tells me that you do. Suddenly my desire to see you again had multiplied innumerably. I was feeling better and I certainly looked better- apart from the blood and grime.
What was stopping me? When I'd finally admitted to John that I was scared, I realised just how true that was.
I was terrified.
I was terrified you wouldn't let me back in, even just as a friend.
John said that you would be angry- I deserved that. But he also said that you still loved me. That you were madly in love with me.
I didn't understand how that was possible- I'd pretty much abandoned you, and in the worst way possible- but you still cared. I thought I had gone past your limits, but you still hadn't shut me out. I needed to find out how- I needed to see you again.
I unfolded the sweatshirt that was still balled up beside me. It was destroyed- soaked in blood and torn where the knife had cut through it- but I couldn't go back to the underground without something to conceal myself.
It didn't matter, I'd gotten used to much worse. I put it back on. Thankfully the hood hadn't been terribly bloodied, and I pulled it up, covering my face the best I could.
I walked back to the tube station, grateful the sweatshirt was black so that the blood stains weren't terribly noticeable from a distance.
I deposited the bag of food by the fire and a young man called Aedan retrieved it.
He glanced at me as he took the bag and did a double take.
"What happened to you?" He asked, noting the blood on my sweatshirt.
"Nothing." I said, though the cut on my arm throbbed under my sleeve.
"Yeah right." He muttered, but turned away.
"Aedan." I called after him.
"Yeah?" He looked back.
"Thank you for letting me stay, but I'll be leaving now."
"Okay." He said, but looked slightly disappointed, likely because of the imminent lack of daily food.
I forced myself to climb the stairs and emerge into the sunlight once again.
I was terrified. Completely petrified. I tried to convince myself that nothing bad would come of this. Everything would be fine and everything would go back to normal.
Normal. What was normal? It had been so long since normal.
I knew that was preposterous.
It was impossible for everything to be fine, but I had to face my fears. I had to see you again.
The café where you worked wasn't far from where I'd been staying, I'd even seen you enter the tube station. I'd been so close but I couldn't bring myself to do it.
I would this time.
It was shocking how difficult this was, despite the fact that I wanted to see you more than anything.
I couldn't back down this time.
I walked slowly to your place of work, each step an internal battle. I was so afraid that you'd ignore me, or worse, resent me.
I forced myself on, and soon I could see the homely little restaurant where you worked.
There was an iron bench right outside the door, and I figured that would be a good place to wait. Your shift was almost over and I couldn't walk into a public café covered in blood. That wouldn't do.
I sat there, my hood still pulled up to partially conceal my face.
I glanced in the window and saw you talking to a couple at the table in my view.
I took in your every detail, something I hadn't really been able to do for so long. It was different when you were awake. And yet, everything about you seemed almost unfamiliar. I'd preserved a memory of you in my mind, an exact replica of you nearly two years ago. You'd changed so much, but it was almost difficult to pinpoint what specifically it was.
There was something.
Your smile was fake. Very fake. To an unobservant person, it looked real enough. But I'd cemented that image of you- before you'd had any reason to fake happiness at all- and the smile you wore now was by no means the pure, wholehearted one I remembered.
I felt an urge to fix that. I wanted to make it real again. I wanted to just go in and engulf you in a hug, to kiss you until I couldn't breathe, to act like nothing had ever happened- but that was impossible.
Soon. I reminded myself. Soon I'd be able to talk to you, whether you accepted me or not.
I looked away now, and sat there for a good half hour, my head down. I was drowsy, but the expectation of talking to you in combination with the throbbing in my arm and abdomen kept me awake.
After what seemed like forever, the door opened and you exited the building, your fake smile from before replaced with the despondent expression that I felt was probably the norm for you as of late. You sat down on the bench, completely unaware that I was right there, beside you.