Unsaid Words

Reunited- Three Years Later

Jim walked nervously up the flat stairs, unsure of how Seb would react. Even though Jim had been sober for years, his hands began shaking. He tried his hardest to ignore it.

It was midday. Jim knew what was happening all over the city. People were staring, wide-eyed, at the "miss me" message, which authorities wouldn't be able to remove from every screen in the country for several more hours.

Sherlock's plane was being turned around, coming back to London to track Jim down. He wouldn't be able to find Jim, as Jim wasn't using any means of travel that would require identification.

Jim was quite proud of his work. He'd been putting the message together since Sherlock had returned from Serbia, about ten months ago.
Seb was likely in a state of shock, so Jim didn't know how he would react to his return.

Jim reached the top of the stairs, his shoulders tense. The flat building felt the same as it used to. He had checked with reliable sources to make sure that Seb still lived there. He had doubted that Seb would've moved, but he had had to check. Sure enough, Seb had never left London.

Jim reached their old flat door, a million happy memories of Seb's smiling lips and arms around Jim's waist flooding over him.

Jim rummaged in his pocket for his key. He found it quickly and unlocked the door quietly. He wondered where Seb would be. Waiting for him in their bedroom? Jim doubted it.

He opened the door carefully, trying not to hit his duffel bag on the door.
A heavy, intoxicating smell of smoke and alcohol rushed over Jim, making him wrinkle his nose in disdain. He closed the door behind him, wondering if Seb would even be sober. That was a scary thought. He hadn't even considered this as a possibility.

"Hey, Sebastian, you home?" Jim called, setting his bag by the door and folding his sunglasses into his jacket pocket.

The flat looked much messier than it used to. The chairs weren't pushed underneath the table. A blanket was folded on the couch, making Jim wonder if Seb had been regularly sleeping there.

"Go away, Rich."

Oh hell.

"It's, um, not Rich," Jim said awkwardly, following Seb's voice.

"Leave me alone."

Seb's throat sounded clogged. Based on the acoustics, Seb sounded like he was in the bathroom.

Jim approached the door carefully and knocked on it.

"You naked in there?" Jim asked playfully. "Because I'm coming in if you are."

"Leave me the hell alone!"

Jim was surprised at the force in Seb's voice. He wondered if this was how he would regularly talk to Rich.

"I'm coming in, Sebastian," Jim called, playing it safe with Seb's name, just in case he didn't want to be called "Seb" anymore.

Jim opened the door, glad that it was unlocked.

Seb was curled up near the end of the bathtub, only wearing boxers and one sock. He had his handgun underneath his chin.

"Oh my God, Seb!"

Jim ran towards him, but Seb moved away, his eyes jolting open, and pointing the gun at him.

"Don't move any closer!" Seb shouted, tears falling down his face.

Jim moved away, putting his hands up.

"Seb..." Jim stuttered.

He hadn't been expecting this.