Sherlock's Second Vow [FINISHED]

Chapter 24: What is it that I want?

Hey Avery, this chapter isn't really related at all to what we originally planned out, but as I was transitioning it from the weird text format thing we did into actual book writing, I sort of felt like it would go differently? Based on what I think would be going on in his head. And of course this is a lot longer and way more happens.

Thanks for giving me so much control over the story, I am basically the King of London right now because she lets me write chapters and change things.

Also my dad does not have coronavirus! he just has pneumonia and something looked kinda, well, funky, in his chest x-ray. But he might get to come home tomorrow, so that's nice.

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24

After a few seconds, everything started to feel a little weird. He'd seen her cuddle with John, but he wasn't sure if she wanted to hug him any longer, or if he even wanted to be touched now. He was starting to get very overwhelmed, and it was all very confusing.

Sherlock hated being confused. He let go of her, tucking his hands back into his pockets. "Sorry."

John looked confused. Damnit, he'd just made it bloody worse, hadn't he? Well fine then, Sherlock would just sit here until one of them picked up the slack.

"You don't have anything to be sorry about," John said, at last. "You can hug her, if she wants to be hugged."

He didn't mention the kiss. Sherlock had seen John kiss Rosie's forehead several times, and assumed it was just an affectionate action. Was it only for fathers and daughters? Were there age brackets?

"Yeah, you can hug me. I just thought you hated hugs."

"Most of the time I do." He had been looking forward to this visit. Now he wished it would be over.

John was tired (most likely he hadn't been able to fall asleep for hours) and confused. What did he want from Sherlock?

He wanted him to do things that made sense to him, he wanted Sherlock to be better. What kinds of things were those that he could apply in this situation?

Well first of all, he needed to stop shielding-- he tended to do that when he was nervous, trying to put layers of himself between him and the source of stress, often turning away and sometimes hunching in on himself.

Then... say something? Lighten the mood. The question was, how? What would John want to hea? No hospital talk, that would be stressful and seem random. Ask about Rosie?

Yes. John liked talking about her. But, problem, he could only communicate directly with Rosie, so anything would have to come through her. She might decide to answer herself, and leave John out of the loop.

Which was bad, because out of the three of them she was the most comfortable. Once he knew what to do, Sherlock could at least appear alright, and he needed to calm John down, didn't he? He wanted John to remember the visit favorably, and think that Sherlock was getting better, so that when he came back John would feel more comfortable.

So, what was something she would have to ask John for the answer to? He didn't want to skip over her exactly, it would be good if the topic could involve them both.

But for the life of him, Sherlock couldn't think what to say.

"Rich says hi," Rosie said jokingly, trying to break the silence, and he realized he'd been kind of staring at John.

John had noticed this too, and apparently noticed she'd noticed, because he responded, predictably, "I told you, I am not gay."

At least they were talking about something now. And John was preoccupied with the whole 'gay' thing. It was true, John wasn't gay. Sherlock was pretty sure, however, that John was bisexual.

Not that he was interested, or anything. He'd heard from John about his relationship with Mary, and there was plenty of kissing and touching and (as evidenced by Rosie) sexual intercorse. Sherlock didn't want any of these things.

Well, some of the hugging had been nice, especially the last visit. It had felt good, although weird, to be held for the first time-- but that was something that could happen platonically, couldn't it?

What he liked was knowing John's mind, knowing how John felt, and making him feel better, teasing him sometimes because he really could be quite clueless.

Sherlock wanted to be with John-- but not with John. No, he didn't. He wanted to be John's friend. His best friend.

What had they been saying? He replayed the last few seconds in his mind-- Rosie was talking about Rich. To keep the conversation going, although he knew the answer, Sherlock signed, 'The kid from school?'

"Yeah, he's in my class again."

'You'd think John would have gotten used to hearing that sort of thing by now.'

'Rich is convinced you and Dad are dating.'

That seemed disjoined from what they had been saying, and made Sherlock pause for a moment. Was it a causal statement, or was it baited? Was she trying to see how he'd react?

Laughter was a safe response, he decided. After all, the thought was mildly amusing. Sherlock had forgotten how much it would hurt, and how the ensuing coughing fit was often bloody. He covered his face while coughing, and hid his hands in his coat pockets immediately-- they'd been coated in a mist of blood from his breath.

John's brows knit together. "Are you okay?"

Sherlock nodded.

Rosie looked him up and down, then signed, 'Why are you lying?"

Either he could sign back and they would see the blood, or he wouldn't and they would try to make him. Sherlock shook his head and hoped it would suffice.

It didn't.

"He's lying," Rosie said matter-of-factly.

He shook his head again, tempted to feel insulted except that she was right.

"Sherlock, show me your hands."

He did his best to inconspicuously wipe his hands on the insides of his pockets as he drew them out. You could only really see the red if you looked closely, he thought, so he flashed his hands in front of John and Rosie and hid them again.

"Sherlock," John said. That was something else too-- John was someone who had, for better or worse, taken the time to get to know him. And he could see he was hiding something.

He grudgingly held out his hands. John took one, then the other, looking them over. "You coughed up a bit of blood, didn't you." Although it sounded like one, it wasn't a question.

Sherlock nodded anyways.

"Nurse," John craned his neck to see Jay's nametag, "Jason. He's coughing up blood."

Jay appeared mildly concerned. "Well, um, we'll have to get that checked out."

"See that you do."

Jay seemed a little insulted, but went back to his phone. "Crap. Hey, William?"

Sherlock sighed.

"The next group's starting, it's past time for you to go."

He moved to stand up, but John stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Take care of yourself."

Sherlock hesitated a second. Should he hug John? Could he? It might be weeks until he saw him again.

"William, time to go."

Sherlock followed Jay out, but not before signing, again, 'I love you.' He left without hearing whether Rosie translated the message.