Tickle Book

Everything's Alright

     "John?" Sherlock called as he entered the shared apartment. He grew concerned when he heard nothing in response.

     "John? Are you home?" He called again, shutting the door behind him, maybe searching for a note that said that he had gone for milk or out with Ms. Hudson.

     Sherlock jumped as he heard a noise from the bedroom. He wasn't sure what to make of it. It wasn't an angry noise. It was rather sad.

     It sounded like hiding sad. Like someone being sad only when they thought no one else was looking. Sherlock slowly opened the door.

     "Sh-Sherlock!" John jumped in surprise, quickly silencing himself as he hid under the sheets. Sherlock gave him a confused look as he sat at the foot of the bed.

     "John? Are you alright?" Asked Sherlock as he looked at the lump under the sheets.

     "Y-yeah, Sherlock, I'm fine." John promised. Sherlock did not accept this at all. John had now made an empty promise. A protective lie.

     "No, you're not. Talk to me." Sherlock persisted. John shifted a bit.

     "No, Sherlock. I'm fine. I promise."

     "John, I know you. I know when you lie."

     "Then you should know I'm not."

     Sherlock, now fed up, grabbed the sheets and yanked them off the bed and to the floor. John jumped and stared down at the bed.

     "John!" Sherlock said in a voice. It was weird to John. He had never heard that before. It was like calming shock.

     John's face was completely red, along with his eyes. His face wet with tears and sweat. Sherlock quickly sat down next to him, placing his arm around John's shoulders.

     "I'm f-fine, Sherlock." John promised once more. He grew slightly concerned when he heard nothing back. He felt Sherlock take in a deep breath.

     Sherlock was angry now. John can't do this. He really can't. If he's not okay, he needs to talk about it. That's it. That's all. Why in the hell was that so hard to do!?

     "No, John! You're not!" Sherlock about yelled. John jumped and stared at him. Sherlock closed his eyes and looked down at his best friend.

     It was this look. This look that Sherlock had never seen anyone give before. It was almost scared, but not quite. Like a child who had just been yelled at mixed with a great confusion.

     "I'm sorry, John. I just wish you'd talk to me. I don't like when you're sad and I want- I need to make it better." John swallowed.

     "That's not your job." John said.

     "Guess I'm a volunteer, then." Sherlock protested in response.

     Suddenly. So sudden. It just happened. John couldn't hold on anymore. He couldn't be strong. He broke.

     Sherlock placed his head on top of John's as John buried his face into Sherlock's chest. He could feel John's tears staining his shirt.

     "Please talk to me." Sherlock said in a soft voice through John's whimpering.

     "I-I can't- I feel u-useless." John cried. Sherlock stared at the top of his head for a moment. John's eyes squeezed shut when he felt Sherlock move.

     "I-I'm sorry. D-don't be m-mad." John whimpered. Sherlock gave a concerned look as he pushed back on John's shoulders softly, forcing John to look at him.