Sherlock's Second Vow [FINISHED]

Chapter 22: Love you too

My dad went to the ER. 

There is a 1/5 chance of dying at the hospital. He had us all come and say goodbye, just in case. Please, please pray for him.

I am going to keep writing. Some writers stop when times get hard, and I understand that. But writing is as necessary to me as breathing. Having a story to retreat into kept me from commiting suicide more than once. I'm sorry to lay all this on you but... I don't know. 

I'm sorry. Here's your chapter...

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22

"How did it go?" John asked. Mrs. Hudson had come over, and they were taking tea together in the living room.

"Really well, he said he'd stop leaving body parts in the fridge."

John laughed softly. "Not sure if I'd trust him on that one."

"I said I'd dump them on his coat." She finished off a biscuit and reached for another.

"That must have been pretty effective. What else did he say? How's the treatment going?"

"We had a bit of a row about him thinking he's a freak."

John resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. Sherlock was ever the dramatic.

"Here's something interesting," Mrs. Hudson said,"he's been thinking about love."

Love? Sherlock?

"They must be giving him something real strong if he's thinking about love."

"Now, now, John. I think he's taking steps for the better. He admitted he loves people."

"Who, Rosie?" He smiled a little, remembering how happy they looked together, and how they so often got into trouble. "That's kind of really adorable, actually."

"Yes, Rosie," Mrs. Hudson said. "And you and me."

"Oh. Oh wow." He half-laughed in surprise.

"He was asking what love felt like. If there were different kinds. And he said he loves all three of us, but wasn't sure because he feels differently about each of us. Which is only natural, everyone feels differently about everyone, but I guess he never knew."

"I still can't get my head around this-- Sherlock Holmes asked you about love?"

"Yes."

Sherlock... loved John. Loved him. The man who never loved anyone loved him.

And I love him too.

***

When his schedule was free, two days later, John drove up to see Sherlock. He looked rather the worse for wear when John saw him; he lifted his head but didn't speak.

"Hello. Did you like the pictures?"

Sherlock nodded.

Why isn't he talking? He loves to talk. Maybe he's embarrassed about what he said to Mrs. Hudson, but he's never really been embarrassed about anything. He wore a bloody sheet to Buckingham Palace!

"How has everything been."

Sherlock shrugged.

"Are going to be difficult the whole time?" John looked at the nurse, who was busy on his phone. Unprofessional.

Sherlock was giving him a look, which was probably supposed to mean something --it was pretty intense-- but he nearly always preferred to use his words. What was going on with him?

"What is it?" John asked.

He just kept looking at him. John was starting to get pissed off.

"I drove three hours to see you and you won't even say hello?"

Sherlock raised a hand and lifted it to his neck, then shook his head. He winced.

"...You can't talk?"

He nodded.

"Yes you can or yes you can't?"

Sherlock blew out a breath through his nose in frustration, then came to sit next to John, wincing again as if something pained him. He put one of his cold, bony hands on John's shoulder, then drew him into a hug.

This time John was the one to freeze in surprise. Sherlock was hugging him? Sherlock was hugging him. He wrapped his arms around his friend. Their chests were close enough together for John to feel a sudden, faint buzzing coming from Sherlock, only a few seconds long. When it came, Sherlock winced.

The vagus nerve treatment. He'd read a bit about it. It could leave your throat sore and painful, it could make you lose your voice. Sherlock couldn't talk, for once. He had to communicate through actions, and when he held him, John thought it was a much faster, better way to communicate it.

When Sherlock pulled back, John realized that was the longest he'd ever let him touch him. This time, he put his hand on his heart, then moved it to John's. John thought his heart might be beating a little faster, and wondered if Sherlock could tell.

He put his own hand over Sherlock's, and gave him a small smile. "I accept your apology. And I love you too."

John squeezed his hand, and hugged him again tightly. All the frustration and worry and anger from the last few months, everything, it seemed to melt away for a moment. He had his friend, his greatest friend, the man he loved here with him. The pulse disk in Sherlock's chest went off again and his muscles contracted. It must hurt him so much. John put one hand on the back of Sherlock's head, resting it on his shoulder, and gently stroked his curls until he calmed down.

It was all he could do for him. And finally, for once, Sherlock relaxed. He flinched less when the pulses came, and his breathing slowed.

***

This was weird-- different. He was being touched, and it didn't make him shake. He was being touched and it felt good. He was being touched and he liked it.

The first hug was for John. It was something he knew John would understand. But the second seemed to be for him, for both of them. He found his mind slowing as John's hand ran through his hair, but for once it didn't scare him. The simplicity of the moment was enough, him and John, both their heartbeats together.

I love you.

And John understood. John loved him back. He didn't understand yet in what way he loved John, or what way John loved him, but there was something there, something that felt good and warm and for now it felt okay to not know. To just be here, and breath in John's smell.

And then their time was up, and he realized he was crying, and John was crying, and neither of them said a word, just nodded at each other before John left. Sherlock felt colder and emptier now, and he wrapped his coat tightly around himself.

I love you. Come back soon.

Please.