Marriage and Mental Illness (Sequel to Tall Buildings and Pill Bottles)

Doctors and Diagnoses

John's POV

"You made the appointment then?" Sherlock's voice was quiet, barely audible in the early morning.

The bed creaked as I crawled back in with him, pulling the covers over both of us. The trial wouldn't happen on the weekend, leaving us with two days to worry even more.

"She'll see me tomorrow. Normally she doesn't work weekends but when I explained the trial, she said we could meet tomorrow."

Sherlock had suggested that I see a therapist not two weeks ago and the idea wasn't the worst idea. After the second day of trial yesterday, I'd decided to go ahead an make an appointment for this weekend.

It was still quite early, early enough for neither of us to have much reason to get out of bed. Rain pattered outside, a warm breeze floating in through the open window. I pulled him against me, letting my eyes fall shut again.

"It was this time of year last year that I decided I wanted to propose," I said, words muffled against his skin. I could feel his smile, lips lazily curling upwards.

"Really? It's not even May and you asked in June." I chuckled, pushing myself down so that our faces were side by side.

"It was a long time coming. I knew I wanted to grow old with you, and the word 'boyfriend' had never seemed to encapsulate what I felt about you."

He smiled, the crooked one I loved so much. I reached out a hand, letting my finger brush along his lips. "I haven't seen that smile in so long," I whispered. "I've missed it."

Sherlock's eyes softened as I drew my hand away. "You're the bravest man I've ever known. I love you so much," he leaned in, lips brushing against mine. "I don't think I tell you that enough."

I gave a toothless smile, carding my fingers through his hair. "You say it everyday, my love. You say it at night when I wake up, you say it when you let me tell you about a war you've never been in. You say it when you ask me about my worst nightmares, even if you don't want to hear it." I leaned in, kissing him slowly.

He smiled against me, fists curling around my t-shirt. We both ended up falling back asleep, listening to nothing but the rain and the sound of our breathing.

***

I hadn't come back to Ella's office in nearly two years, I hadn't consistently had nightmares since then. I remembered the last time I'd stood here, outside this office. It was two months after Sherlock and I had met, I'd told her that things were good. They had been good. But now...

I stepped inside from the dreary skies, hoping that for some reason, she would tell me that I was being paranoid. That there was nothing wrong with me

The lobby was exactly as I remembered it, grey walls with the flowered pictures that you could never really tell if they were paintings or not. A heap of magazines were piled on the coffee table, slouching chairs pulled next to it.

I told the receptionist who I was before sitting down. Sherlock had offered to come with me, but I wanted to do this alone. I needed to do this alone.

"John Watson-Holmes." I glanced up, seeing Ella standing in the doorway. I stood, watching as she gave a small smile. "It's been a while, come on back."

I followed her back into her office, taking a seat in the same chair that had been here nearly two years ago. "What's been bothering you? I haven't seen you in ages."

Her dark eyes were thoughtful, analyzing every movement I made. "You watch the news, you know about the trial," I raised a brow. Ella nodded, taking a quick note in the book on her lap.