Good Old Fashioned Nightmare

Part 2

 Warning:  Non-Con elements in this chapter.

      John stood on the threshold a moment before he crossed into the room. Now that he stood in front of Sherlock a whole wave of insecurities rose to the surface of his thoughts.

     “Sherlock,” he began unevenly. Did the man really just expect him to fall into his waiting arms?

     “Come here, John. I just want to welcome you home,” he said letting his smile slip a bit. John felt his heart constrict at that and then forced any sympathy for Sherlock deep into the anger he felt. He couldn't forget was being forced into slavery. Friend or not, nothing about this situation was right. John had no idea how to fix things, but after seeing Sherlock's small, bright smile, he had to try. It was either that, or he lose himself to a slowly growing anger at having lost his freedom. Right now, he didn't know whether he felt hatred or kindness for Sherlock.

     It was a surprising mix of both.

     Remembering Mycroft’s instructions, John willed himself forward and into Sherlock’s embrace. It felt surprisingly good and he relaxed into it for a moment. He couldn’t really reconcile what Mycroft expected of him and the man standing in front of him. This was his friend, and the world’s only brilliant, consulting detective. Sherlock didn’t have feelings for other people and that foundational truth had sustained John for the past two years. If it weren’t for the constant reminder of the collar around his neck, John would have thought he’d just had an awful nightmare this morning.

   “So, you’re staying, then,” Sherlock stated when he stepped back.

     “It would seem….I’ve been given to understand,” John stammered. He couldn’t seem to get the words to form. The whole thing didn’t seem real yet. John still hoped that Sherlock might just laugh, hook his finger in the collar and take it off. This whole unreal episode could fade away into nothing. Given enough time, John would even see the humor in it.

     “Ah, the collar,” Sherlock looked down at his feet a moment then back up. He met John’s wounded, blue eyes with his own piercing green-grey gaze and his face changed, hardened. “This is good, John.”

     “How is this good, Sherlock? I’m your…..what? Prisoner?” He’d been told not to refer to the physical relationship until he’d prepared Sherlock to accept it. But, it clanged foremost in his thoughts. He wanted to get it out in the open, address it in black and white, and set it down in some sort of agreed upon contract. He would have a very hard time staying within the parameters of Mycroft’s stipulations.  "You're okay with this?"

     Sherlock blinked and his face smoothed out into a neutral expression. "Yes," he said.  "I am.  You may not leave the flat until it is safe. But no, you are not my prisoner. As soon as we can, we’re going back out on cases. You have free reign here at Baker Street but don’t go out unless I am with you.  Do you understand?”

     John expected this at least. “Yes, I understand. Anything else?” He wanted to add a sarcastic, “Master” but thought better of it. Who knew what the parameters of this new relationship might entail and there was no way he was going to start calling the git, “Master."  None of this registered as true or real.

     "I’ve finished the files you wanted. Do you need any more help?” John asked trying not to grind his teeth together. He felt it might be better just dove right back into the work in order to drive the insane feeling of wrong this whole conversation made him feel. But, suddenly he couldn’t look at Sherlock. The overwhelming strangeness of the collar, Mycroft’s threats against his family and his own growing awareness that he been sold into actual servitude (real or made up by Mycroft) suddenly left him feeling panicked. He wanted more than anything to be able to turn around and leave the flat and walk and walk until he could make sense of the past few hours. His chest felt tight and he couldn’t take in enough air.

     “Calm down, John!” Sherlock said, suddenly at his side. He guided him to his chair and sat him in it. He still had on his coat and he felt it being removed from him gently. “Take deep breaths, I’m here.” Sherlock began rubbing small circles on his back and shoulders. It helped him regain his composure and for a brief moment, John actually enjoyed having his back rubbed by his friend’s strong hands. He calmed down. Then, the present came crashing back and he wanted to jerk forward and away him.

These warring emotions just might kill him. His breathing became normal and he steeled himself to look up at Sherlock’s anxious face. “I need to… I have to get out! Please, Sherlock just let me go out for a while." He wanted to go see Harriet, and his parents. "I'll come back. I always do.”

     “No. You’re not leaving,” Sherlock said firmly and pressed himself into John’s side. His voice dipped into his lowest register, “I can help you calm down if you want me to.”

     This was it. Mycroft wanted him to go slowly with Sherlock. He even suggested he wait until Sherlock initiated the first move. Well, knowing a thing or two about seducing women, John felt this was a classic, if not a bit overt, invitation from his flat mate to get the physical ball rolling. He'd need to try to slow things down.

     Anxiety made his heart speed back up and his breathing quicken. Knowing Sherlock, he’d read these as signs of John’s arousal so he tried to calm himself. He wasn’t ready for this yet. He stood up from his chair, “I need to lie down upstairs, Sherlock.” He had no idea how long he might put the man off but he intended to do it as long as he could.

     “You could lie down in my room,” Sherlock said standing up and leaning back into John. His voice rumbled even lower and he murmured, “It’s closer.”

John tore himself away from this new, seductive version of Sherlock and tried moving toward the stairs to his room. Before he got more than a few steps, a strong hand reached out and clasped around John’s wrist pulling him right back into Sherlock’s sphere. “I think I’ll have to insist, John.”