Marvel/Sherlock/Harry Potter/ETC Fandom One Shots

Restoration - John Watson xReader

A/N- Part 2 of Doubt. This one is much happier than the first part, I promise you that. Oh, and I kinda broke Sherlock's character, so forgive me.

Two weeks, its been two weeks since you'd last saw John. One week since he stopped showing up at your house, and five days since he'd stopped calling you. You had been hauled up in your house for the whole of that time. Ever thankful for being able to work from home. Though, you, now, barely had a reason to get dressed, or look presentable. Why should you? You didn't leave the house anyway, and the pizza delivery guy didn't seem to care much. 

While you were sitting at your desk, finishing up some paperwork, the door to your balcony pulled open. Unaware, since you were in the other room, you continued working in reflective silence. The soft padding of footsteps didn't draw your attention, until you heard the creak of your office door. You whipped around in your chair, nearly toppling over, only to be met with ice blue eyes. 

"Sherlock?" You whisper, shock paralyzing your joints as you stare at the man in front of you. "What are you doing here?"

Without a word, Sherlock wrapped his hand around you wrist, pulling you up and heading towards your door. You stumbled behind him, barely able to keep up with his long legs. Tripping over your pajama pants as Sherlock dragged you to the street below. Despite your constant protests, and desperate attempts to get away, Sherlock loaded you into a cab, and the two of you were off. To where? You had no idea.

As you watched through the window, you recognized each street. Bloody Baker Street. The twit was taking you to 221B, which was the last thing you wanted, seeing John again. It had broke your heart to say goodbye, and you knew you couldn't face him after that. Whether it was the truth, or merely what your mind had deemed was the truth, you knew he could never be happy with you. Even if it was just on those days where you couldn't leave your bed, or the tears wouldn't stop falling, he would eventually learn to hate you. You couldn't bare the thought of losing him again, so you knew you could never try to have him.

The cab stopped, and you glanced at Sherlock, as if awaiting some sort of sign, "Well, we're here." Sherlock smirked. You shook your head, refusing to leave the comfort of the cab. 

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock grabbed your waist, pulling you out of the back seat. It must have been quite the spectacle, as many onlookers gawked at the sight of you, hoisted over Sherlock's shoulder. He set you down just outside of 221B and grabbed your wrist again. 

You entered the familiar flat, still struggling to be released from his grip, but Sherlock was ever the stubborn one. Ascending the stairs, you finally stopped squirming. It wouldn't change your fate, and you knew it. Sherlock was too pigheaded, you knew you could never win. Begrudgingly, you entered the living room, as Sherlock opened the door, head hanging towards your feet, you refused to look up. Before you could even think, Sherlock shoved you onto the couch, and began to pace around you. 

"Where's John?" You barely whisper as you look up, sweeping your eyes across the flat. 

"Getting milk." Sherlock deadpans, looking out the window. "Now, John said that you broke up with him. Normally, I'm quite pleased when his suitors decide to leave, but in this case, well, do your own deductions." He gestured as he turned to face you.

You shook your head, fighting back tears, "Sherlock..." You trail off.

"John has been devastated without you, (y/n). Frankly, it's distracting. I can't focus on my case because he's wandering the flat aimlessly, trying to figure out what he did wrong. Usually, I can tell right away why he's been dumped, but I'm baffled by your reasoning. You fit well into our dynamic, (y/n), I even liked you...to an extent." Sherlock sat down on his chair, his hands folding into their familiar position under his chin. "For the sake of my sanity, tell me why you broke up with John."

All sentiments of words left you, blinking in an attempt to find them. Out of everyone in the world who could have asked you for this, Sherlock was the last person you'd want to tell. It wasn't like John did anything wrong. He was perfect, the only defect was you. 

Looking back towards the ground, a few tears began to escape. Hastily brushing them away, you try to pull yourself together, "I did it for him." You croak, unable to contain the pain in your voice. "I was holding him back. He could be doing amazing things, but not with me dragging behind him." 

Cocking his head at you, Sherlock's eyes bore into your skull, "Since when are you so insecure?" His voice barely audible. Sherlock stood from his chair, and sat beside you on the couch. Awkwardly placing his hand on your back, he began rubbing small circles into your shoulder, "(y/n), the confident. When did you turn into this? How was I unable to see it?" 

You looked up at him, for a moment, unable to read the look on his face, "Confidence can be deceiving, Sherlock. You of all people should know that." 

Sherlock let out a soft sigh, pulling you into his chest, "John's too good for the both of us, and yet, he's still here. The only difference between you and me, is that I haven't pushed him away...yet."

Unable to speak, you lean your head into Sherlock's chest, letting him hold you while you sob. Unbeknownst to the two of you, John stood in the kitchen hanging on your every word. He slowly walked into the living room, making his way towards the couch. You looked up when you saw his feet near yours. He knelt down, softly brushing the tears from your face, and pulling you into his chest. The softness of his sweater greeted you, and his familiar scent filled your senses. He smelt like fresh linen, cologne, and tobacco, but mostly, he smelt like home.

John held you tightly as you continued to cry, begging him to forgive you. You knew he deserved more than you could offer, but you hated the thought of losing him. You felt Sherlock stand up, and heard him leave the flat, but you didn't care. Your only focus was on the man in front of you.

John sat beside you, pulling you closer to him, and kissing your hair, "I never want to lose you again, (y/n), you're my everything."

"I'm sorry, I can't give you what you deserve." You choked out. "I wish I could be what you want."

Placing a finger under your chin, John lifted your head so your gaze met his, "You are all that I want. Every bit of this." He gestured to you. "You're not perfect, but I don't want you to be. You're perfect to me. That's all that matters. We can get through this, I promise."

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. Fighting against your mind, which was telling you to run, you leaned against him, letting the weight of your worries off of your shoulders. You pulled away from his lips and placed your forehead against his, "We can get through this."