A/N: um...wow. i am deeply sorry for not updating for so long. it seems i have overdosed on my summer vacation freedom. can i just say that i really really love when you guys comment on my fics. it means a lot so thank you to everyone who has. wattpad user noemiroseb actually motivated me to write this chapter at 4 am when i was feeling like giving up so you go girly thanks muah.
It was time.
It was time for Sherlock to visit John.
It was time for Sherlock to visit John and he was too scared to. Imagine that, Sherlock Holmes scared. But that's more common than people like to think, is it not?
One week and a half of a Johnless life and Sherlock could not break at the seams any longer. 11 days of sleeping alone; 11 days of no one to listen to you; 11 days of emptiness. It didn't feel nice. It didn't feel nice at all. Is this what alone felt like? Sherlock had never been truly alone. In his childhood he was alone but he had nothing to compare it to so he was not aware. Then John Watson bumped into his life and he understood the definiton of loneliness but could not feel it. Now that was taken from him, so how would he know?. Like a junkie robbed of their vice. It wasn't as if his days were spent doing things he might consider productive. No, he spent his days wondering how John was. Where John was.
His steps were slow and steady on the wooden steps. Coat-clad and ready to face a pale, sleeping John dressed in white, he made his way to the front door of their shared flat. His hand outstretched for the brass doorknob and stopped. The doorknob was moving on its own. Someone on the opposite side pushed the black door open and -John. John was standing before him looking tired and in need of tea and a hug, not necessary in that order.
"John."
"Yeah. Can you-"
"Ho...how? They released you early? What? Why?" Sherlock looked him up and down, analyzing him, "You're favoring one leg; you're still hurt."
"Sherl-"
"Did you walk here? Wh-"
"Sherlock! Can i at least be allowed into my own flat before being questioned?"
"Ah, right. Of course, come in."
There was no tea and John seemed too irratible to be hugged at the moment; things weren't looking good. John made a muffled grunt as he slumped into his chair. It almost made Sherlock guilty for having his health. But that wasn't the real root of his guit was it.
"Tea?" they both asked simultaneously.
"No, No, I'll do it." Sherlock immediately lept off his square chair. Tea was nice. Tea gave an excuse to not talk. Tea was nice.
"Thanks." John said as he accepted the teacup from Sherlock's hands. Their fingers brushed as he did so, reminding both of them of what they had been bereft of.
"John, I-"
"Why didn't you visit me?"
"Well, I was very-"
"Eleven days. Eleven days, I was gone, and I never saw you once. You know, even Lestrade came. Asked him to check on you to make me feel better. Said you were doing just fine...only made me feel worse." his voice was so calm: an indication of his anger. So John-like.
"John, I understand if you're angry with me, but really, I was busy."
"Doing the hell what?!" John leaned forward in his chair, a surprisingly intimidating gesture, flinching as he did so.
It was Sherlock's move to be on the defensive then, "How about finding your kidnappers!! Or have you forgotten about them so soon? Oh, they'll be heartbroken."
John relaxed back in his chair, "Right. Okay so why didn't you come by after?"
"I couldn't, I couldn't see you like that. I couldn't."
"Were you ever going to try?"
"Well, actually, I was going to. Today. But then," he gestured at John, "yeah."
John carefully placed his tea on a the floor, opened his arms and, in the most caring demanding voice, whispered, "Come here."
Sherlock only stared.
"Come here, you sod. And hug me."
Sherlock immediately leaped towards the other man's waist. He kneeled, placing his head on John's lap and his arms around John's hips. John's hands fell to caress his mop of curls. Tea and a hug. Two for two wasn't bad. Not bad at all. John's hands were a weight Sherlock missed on him. The smell of John was a thing he could never bore of. The feel of John was a marvel. And it was all Sherlock's.
"Any other questions you possibly have?" Sherlock part teased, part dared.
John considered this and, after a few silent seconds, asked,"Who's Paul?"
YOU ARE READING
A Name
Fanfiction"What mattered was now, this exact moment, when John loved him. What mattered was that Sherlock had found a reason to smile. What mattered was that John's fingers had found their way to Sherlock's chest and were gently running along his skin below h...
