Meet You Again

Chapter Six

“You tease.” Victor hissed at him, gathering his shirt and coat. “Stringing me on. What the hell.”

Sherlock refused to look at him, arms wrapped around his torso to protect himself against the onslaught of insults and cursings, wishing desperately to curl inside himself and disappear forever. “I wasn’t stringing you on, Victor-”

“Like hell you weren’t!”

Sherlock felt the welts rising on his insides, throbbing and pulsing. “I’m sorry.”

-----

   “I’m sorry.” Sherlock choked out again, scrambling away from him. “I didn’t mean to-”

John was still staring. Just staring and staring, lips parted and glossed over just slightly and Sherlock wanted to cry. Wanted to curl up and sob and sob, because rejection like this never hurt so much in his life. His breaths came out in short ragged bursts and he could already feel the stinging of tears brimming his lashes and everything burned, I ruined what we had. I fucked it up, John, sorry, please, please.

I’m so sorry.

“Sherlock…?” it was the first word John spoke in what felt like centuries, eons, and Sherlock clung to it, captured it as if it would be the last word he ever hear in John’s lovely voice and hid it away. Because John is about to walk out that door forever.

Seconds ticked by, Sherlock’s heart a racing horse barreling out of control inside of him, before John finally, finally, moved, fingers lifting to brush over his bottom lip (The one Sherlock had tasted and catalogued only minutes before), a sort of awe washing over his face that Sherlock couldn’t place, fear and rejection clouding his vision, the burning salt of tears still present along his lashes. “Sherlock.”

John had no right to speak his name like that. Not when he was about to leave him forever. He had no right.

“Go.” he bit out, ignoring the small hitch in his words.

John stared again, the glow washing away from his eyes. “What?”

“Go. Get out.” the words were leaving him in a rush, cold and rigid as he tried so desperately to rebuild the walls he hid behind for so long. “Get out. Now.”

John looked hurt (Why does he look like that? Did I steal his lines? His thunder?No, I won’t be hurt, not again.) hand trembling as he tried to reach out, as if he wanted to touch Sherlock.

He recoiled as if his presence burned and snarled. “Leave my flat now!”

John snatched his hand back, eyes wide and face crumbling before him. “Sherlock, wait-”

“Mrs. Hudson should have your coat. Get out of my sight.”

After a few agonizing moments, John did.

He convince himself that it didn’t tear him apart from the inside out.

***

((A/N: Short chapter is short. Sorry about that...it's mostly a filler chapter so I guess it doesn't matter....

  Here you all go!))