Organised Chaos - Sherlock x Reader

LXXII • 72

The next day

John had asked you earlier if you would be okay with Sherlock if he left for work. You'd nodded.
Sherlock was still being quiet and meek. It was incredibly uncharacteristic of him, but he knew that no matter how good his intentions had been, it was still going to take you a long time to truly forgive him.
You entered the living room where he was sitting on the sofa, hunched forward, hands clasped together. He hadn't been doing much.
You set a platter of tea down on the table in front of him.
"Can I see your scars?"
He sighed and muttered something under his breath that you weren't too concerned about.

Sherlock knew you weren't really asking. You were telling him to show you. He also knew that you didn't mean for him to turn so you could lift his shirt and see a fraction of the damage.
He knew what you really meant, so he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off, turning his back to you.

It was even worse than you had imagined. The little bit that you had seen yesterday didn't even begin to rival the whole of it.
There were scars from deep gashes that ran parallel to each other across his entire back. The lashes went all the way around his back and continued on his ribs- torture.
"Sherlock... Sherlock what did they do to you?" You looked at him, tears threatening to spill over.
He reached up and wiped your eyes with his thumb.
"You really want to know all the details?" He asked, gently.
"I just want to know why you look like... like this!" You gestured wildly at all his wounds.
He sighed.
"Like I said before, it was the headquarters of German intelligence. I needed information on Moriarty, and they wanted to know why I was there. Of course, I couldn't tell them the real reason I was there, so I had to let them believe they had the upper hand. That consisted of beatings until I told them what they wanted to hear."
"You could've gotten out of it! You could've done something, I know you could've."
"I could have, but it would only have made them suspicious, love. I knew what I was getting into. I chose this over letting Moriarty continue to haunt me even after his death." His face was earnest, seeking. He needed to make sure you were okay.
"(F/N)."
"Yeah?" You looked up from where you had been silently fiddling with your fingers.
"Do you understand?"
"I guess."
"Do you want to know anything else?"
"Did you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Destroy Moriarty."
"Yes. I only came back once I knew it was safe. I only wish it could've been sooner."
You sighed. "What about this?" You indicated the fresh stitches in his arm.
"I got cut." He said, sheepishly. You remembered the bloody sweatshirt and glared at him, then nodded towards the bandage on his lower abdomen.
He glanced down at it. "That was..." He paused. "Something different."
"Sherlock, what was it?"
"Bullet." He said quietly, after a long hesitation.
You felt tears coming to your eyes again. "Who shot you, Sherlock? Who did this?"
"Don't cry, please." He said, avoiding the question.
"Who shot you?" You repeated, your face twisting up in anger- not at him, but at the one who'd inflicted this pain on him.
"Sebastian." He replied, looking away.
The rage and anguish finally took over and you collapsed, your face in your hands. "How much more of our lives can that bastard ruin?" You asked no one in particular, your voice broken by the ugly sobs that racked your entire body.
"He can't anymore, love. He's in for life- high security. He can't get out."
"But he's already destroyed everything." You looked up, a look that was equally revenge filled as it was distressed on your wet, red face.
"He's not destroyed us." He replied, his voice quiet and meek. "He tried to kill us both and he failed, (F/N). He failed and he can't try again." He put his shirt back on, hiding his scars from your view.
He gave a sad smile, yet it was somehow encouraging, then took your hand in his own.
He turned it over gently so your palm was facing up.
He looked directly at you, a serious expression on his face but sadness in his eyes. "I've shown you my scars. Now show me yours." He said, quietly.