Johnlock ~ Here For You

Promises

With John's words fresh in his mind, Sherlock drifted to sleep with ease for the first time in days. However, the peace didn't last through the night the detective tossed and turned as images flooded his mind, showing him things he wished he didn't have to see. Startled awake, Sherlock lay in bed. Beside him, John continued to stay blissfully unaware of the night.

The sounds of both men breathing were drastically different, compared to the sound of Sherlock's rapid breaths. John was calm, his breathing long and deep. 

When he awoke, a small smile tugged at his lips, and just as promised John was still there. He sat up slowly, being careful not to wake up the sleeping man. Sherlock crawled out of bed and tiptoed out of the bedroom. This isn't you. You don't do emotions, remember? Pull yourself together. You'll only get hurt, Sherlock thought to himself as he moved towards his violin. His long, slender fingers found their place on the strings and Sherlock started to strum a soothing tune. John woke up not long after, catching the last few bars to Sherlock's new song. 

God, that was bloody beautiful, he thought. Sitting up, John stretched his arms wide above his head and tiptoed towards the bedroom door. Silently, John creaked open the door and peered through the small gap he had created. "Morning John," Sherlock called as he placed his violin on his stand and turned around, smiling slightly.

"Take it that I wasn't that quiet then?" John laughed, opening the door fully.

"I'm sorry, no. Hey John?" Sherlock asked all traces of his smile gone.

"Mhm?"

"Please don't tell Mycroft about yesterday and ermmm the other day... please?" He begged.

"Sherlock..."

"Please, John. Do this for me, promise me!"

"...Okay, but as soon as you have an episode I want you to wake me up and inform me straight away alright? No matter the time. I think your brother would kill me if something bad happened to you." John sighed.

"Thank you, John," Sherlock said quietly.

"So..." John trailed off as he walked towards the kitchen, "Want some breakfast?"

"No thank you."

"Well if you're sure..." John said as he looked Sherlock up and down. He had lost more weight recently, his eyes more sunken and cold and his hair wasn't as shiny as it used to be. He decided not to worry, he usually returned to normal after a case but with his nightmares... he decided not to think about it and began searching for some coffee.

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RING! RING! RING!

"Sherlock, phone," John called out from the shower, it was unusual for Sherlock to leave his phone ringing, even if he intended not to answer. "Sherlock!" Still, there was no answer from the detective, for god's sake he thought to himself, he quickly rinsed out his hair and turned the shower off, muttering under his breath something about strangling someone. 

RING! RING! RING!

"Sherlock, honestly I don't know why you even have your phone on loud if you're not going to bother even answering the damn thing." With only a towel wrapped around him, John walked into the living room and immediately slipped on the wooden floor. Instantly he felt a shooting pain in his pinkie finger and took a sharp inhale of breath knowing the familiar feeling of a broken bone. Before he could get up the phone stopped ringing.

Oh for Christ's sake,  he thought to himself, knowing his luck that was Mycroft and Mycroft wasn't fond of the pair not answering the phone when he called. Sighing John pulled himself up and searched for the first aid kit which he swore was on the table the last time he saw it. He eventually found it in the microwave, which was strange as it wasn't one of Sherlock's many 'experiments' so the fact that it was in there was a complete mystery. He carefully opened the box expecting something to pop out in case Sherlock had tampered with it earlier, thankfully it was perfectly normal and he was able to wrap his fingers securely with no trouble. 

With the phone finally quiet, the flat was completely silent. Usually, there was some form of noise, the most common being Sherlock pacing back and forth whilst randomly bursting out some theory related to the current case. It was odd, to say the least, even Mrs Hudson was making no noise nearby.  John stood there staring off into space letting his thoughts wonder, last night was strange, a mere week ago if you had asked him if he ever saw himself in this situation, he would have called you crazy. Nothing ever bothers Sherlock, at least nothing like this, usually, it was boredom that plagued his mind, and when he was bored everyone knew about it. Boredom was one of two emotions he ever showed, the other being annoyance over people's small minds who couldn't see past the obvious. Thinking back on it, Sherlock had been acting off leading up to the attack, he seemed more distant, and less talkative and if you knew him then you know he would voice how wrong you were, how obvious it was that the phone you were looking for was clearly in a bin, a few streets away from the victim. Because of course where else would it be? Naturally, the assailant had thrown it away leaving the scene, but lately, Sherlock had kept the sarcastic comments to himself and had merely started to look there. 

John's eyebrows furrowed as he got further lost in thought, this wasn't right, why hadn't he said something earlier? All of a sudden there was a knock at the door breaking John out of his trance, shit, "Just a minute!" he called. Why was there someone at the door and why hadn't he put on any clothes? Before he could move the door swung open, "Watson" there on the other side of the threshold was an officer who didn't look too pleased. His hair was greasy and slicked back, his eyes a dull shade of brown, looking at him he hadn't slept in weeks based on the black bags under his eyes. His shirt was almost grey unlike the pristine white most officials wore, tucked loosely into his worn brown trousers. "Ah, Lestrade, how can I help?" John asked as he turned away towards the bathroom, being stood here in just a towel made him feel exposed.

"Where is he?" Lestrade asked walking in, "I need him, we can't figure out how-" he paused mid-sentence as he finally looked at John.

"I don't know where he is, I woke up this morning and he was here, I went to shower and there is no sign of him, he left his phone here so I couldn't get hold of him even if I wanted to"

"Ah, that explains why he didn't answer my call. He has been begging for something interesting to come along and when it finally does, he isn't here."  

"I'll let him know you swung by when he appears, really though he shouldn't be helping. the doctor ordered him to take it easy."

"How easy is he taking it if he isn't here?"

"That isn't the point, I'm sure he just stepped out for some air," John said warily, panic was starting to set in, especially with the condition he was in, "We will be in touch shortly, think it was time you left," he said as he walked towards the door, "Thank you for stopping by" he smiled as he slowly started to shut the door hoping Lestrade would take that as his signal to go. Thankfully, he left with little protest. Now, where was Sherlock?