Sherlock: Fear of Touch
Fandom: Sherlock
Characters: John, Sherlock, Mycroft, Moriarty
Words: ~ 900
Rating/Warning: PG, phobia triggering
Summary: John has haptophobia
A/N: This was written for a prompt asking for fics about phobia. I have no first-hand knowledge about phobias of any kind and only read about haptophobia, so yeah, no expert, just saying.
Fear of Touch
Most of the time it's alright. It's part of the whole ptsd thing, maybe it will go away with time. Maybe if he can ignore it. It's a pretty minor thing, isn't it? Compared to the limp, that is. He just has to keep his personal space. He can function, it's not so bad, not much touching required, now he's neither a doctor, nor a soldier any more.
Handshakes are difficult, but he can do it. It's expected, it can't startle him. He can buy a few seconds to ground himself by shuffling the cane from one hand to the other. Then a deep breath, a few seconds of contact, and he can pull back, take a step away. Wait for his heart to slow down and the rushing in his ears to quiet. It's managable and he doesn't think he betrays anything, but after that Sherlock doesn't try to touch him. Could be normal though, he's not exactly the affectionate kind.
"Show me," the stranger says and John holds his hand up. It's about intimidation, all of this. Not hard to work out with the bloody chair right in the middle of an empty room. John has a nightmare that starts like this. He doesn't sit down, no way, but tries to stand near it in case he needs a weapon. The stranger is coming closer. He knows, he knows everything, he's probably read it in the file he must have about John and wrote a note in his little black book. Haptophobia, how amusing.
The fear mixes with anger, but it stays fear, it always does. Like a handshake, John tells himself, over in a moment. He doesn't know that.
"Don't..." he says in the last moment and pulls his hand away, defeated. The stranger just looks at him and John won't give in to it a second time. He can't, it's not acceptable.
So he holds out his hand and lets the stranger touch it. A careful, lingering touch, burning his skin. Making it crawl. It goes on longer than a handshake and when the stranger finally lets go, John drops his hand as fast as he can, flexes it to lose the sense memory of skin touching skin.
"Is it easier when you initiate it?" Sherlock asks after some weeks. He had been silent and thinking for about half an hour and before that it had been about tea, so John doesn't think he's required to know what Sherlock is on about.
"Sorry, what?"
"Touch, John. Is it easier when you initiate it?"
John sighs. Sherlock is bored. With the limp almost gone, it stood to reason that it was time for a new round of Improve John Watson. And yes, it worked out alright with the limp, but this- well, Sherlock is a dangerous lunatic, John's allowed to be a bit terrified. He's also wondering what Sherlock will do once John is fine again. Move on to the next unsuspecting victim, most likely.
"Yes," he says after a while. "When I'm expecting it and... controlling it, it's- Not exactly easy, I wouldn't say, but... manageable."
Sherlock considers this. "It's a start. Women," he prompts.
"A bit easier, yeah."
"Combat."
"It's not the same."
"It isn't?" he asks intrigued.
"I can deal with someone trying to kill me."
"But trying to touch you is worse?"
"God, it's not logical, it's a bloody phobia, you know the definition."
"Familiarity?"
John shrugs. "Doesn't really make a difference, it's just easier to anticipate when you know someone. And by the way, now I officially know that you know: if you clutch at me again like you did when I found the chiffre, I'll punch you."
Sherlock looks at him with fake innocence. "I was just testing a theory. Think of it as exposure therapy."
"Yeah tough. Try that again, and I'm not responsible for my actions."
So Sherlock starts being- well, subtle is not the word for it and considerate doesn't really nail it either. He makes a habit of standing closer, brushing his arm against John's from time to time. It's intensely irritating, but it gets a fraction less frightening every time.
When they hand each other something, Sherlock looks at him, dares him to make it a brush of fingers or a short touch. It doesn't work every time, but sometimes John manages. It's a rush to overcome it, leaves him feeling slightly nauseous with fear and a bit euphoric and smiling wobbly at Sherlock's smug little grin.
"Pass me my phone," Sherlock says one day and John knows what this is about.
"Where is it?"
"Jacket."
John wants to protest for a moment, but then he just sighs, resigned. Time for a new challenge it seems.
Moritarty is standing with his back to John and John is seething with anger. This arrogant man-child. He insisted on putting the ear bud into John's ear himself, touched his face. Gloated. And now he thinks that John is harmless, too damaged to be dangerous. Someone you can turn your fucking back on. John wants to kill him, he wants to cut his hands off and throw them into his face.
He wants Sherlock to get out.
He can do it. If there is a moment to be brave, this is it. Think of it as exposure therapy.
.
Characters: John, Sherlock, Mycroft, Moriarty
Words: ~ 900
Rating/Warning: PG, phobia triggering
Summary: John has haptophobia
A/N: This was written for a prompt asking for fics about phobia. I have no first-hand knowledge about phobias of any kind and only read about haptophobia, so yeah, no expert, just saying.
Fear of Touch
Most of the time it's alright. It's part of the whole ptsd thing, maybe it will go away with time. Maybe if he can ignore it. It's a pretty minor thing, isn't it? Compared to the limp, that is. He just has to keep his personal space. He can function, it's not so bad, not much touching required, now he's neither a doctor, nor a soldier any more.
Handshakes are difficult, but he can do it. It's expected, it can't startle him. He can buy a few seconds to ground himself by shuffling the cane from one hand to the other. Then a deep breath, a few seconds of contact, and he can pull back, take a step away. Wait for his heart to slow down and the rushing in his ears to quiet. It's managable and he doesn't think he betrays anything, but after that Sherlock doesn't try to touch him. Could be normal though, he's not exactly the affectionate kind.
"Show me," the stranger says and John holds his hand up. It's about intimidation, all of this. Not hard to work out with the bloody chair right in the middle of an empty room. John has a nightmare that starts like this. He doesn't sit down, no way, but tries to stand near it in case he needs a weapon. The stranger is coming closer. He knows, he knows everything, he's probably read it in the file he must have about John and wrote a note in his little black book. Haptophobia, how amusing.
The fear mixes with anger, but it stays fear, it always does. Like a handshake, John tells himself, over in a moment. He doesn't know that.
"Don't..." he says in the last moment and pulls his hand away, defeated. The stranger just looks at him and John won't give in to it a second time. He can't, it's not acceptable.
So he holds out his hand and lets the stranger touch it. A careful, lingering touch, burning his skin. Making it crawl. It goes on longer than a handshake and when the stranger finally lets go, John drops his hand as fast as he can, flexes it to lose the sense memory of skin touching skin.
"Is it easier when you initiate it?" Sherlock asks after some weeks. He had been silent and thinking for about half an hour and before that it had been about tea, so John doesn't think he's required to know what Sherlock is on about.
"Sorry, what?"
"Touch, John. Is it easier when you initiate it?"
John sighs. Sherlock is bored. With the limp almost gone, it stood to reason that it was time for a new round of Improve John Watson. And yes, it worked out alright with the limp, but this- well, Sherlock is a dangerous lunatic, John's allowed to be a bit terrified. He's also wondering what Sherlock will do once John is fine again. Move on to the next unsuspecting victim, most likely.
"Yes," he says after a while. "When I'm expecting it and... controlling it, it's- Not exactly easy, I wouldn't say, but... manageable."
Sherlock considers this. "It's a start. Women," he prompts.
"A bit easier, yeah."
"Combat."
"It's not the same."
"It isn't?" he asks intrigued.
"I can deal with someone trying to kill me."
"But trying to touch you is worse?"
"God, it's not logical, it's a bloody phobia, you know the definition."
"Familiarity?"
John shrugs. "Doesn't really make a difference, it's just easier to anticipate when you know someone. And by the way, now I officially know that you know: if you clutch at me again like you did when I found the chiffre, I'll punch you."
Sherlock looks at him with fake innocence. "I was just testing a theory. Think of it as exposure therapy."
"Yeah tough. Try that again, and I'm not responsible for my actions."
So Sherlock starts being- well, subtle is not the word for it and considerate doesn't really nail it either. He makes a habit of standing closer, brushing his arm against John's from time to time. It's intensely irritating, but it gets a fraction less frightening every time.
When they hand each other something, Sherlock looks at him, dares him to make it a brush of fingers or a short touch. It doesn't work every time, but sometimes John manages. It's a rush to overcome it, leaves him feeling slightly nauseous with fear and a bit euphoric and smiling wobbly at Sherlock's smug little grin.
"Pass me my phone," Sherlock says one day and John knows what this is about.
"Where is it?"
"Jacket."
John wants to protest for a moment, but then he just sighs, resigned. Time for a new challenge it seems.
Moritarty is standing with his back to John and John is seething with anger. This arrogant man-child. He insisted on putting the ear bud into John's ear himself, touched his face. Gloated. And now he thinks that John is harmless, too damaged to be dangerous. Someone you can turn your fucking back on. John wants to kill him, he wants to cut his hands off and throw them into his face.
He wants Sherlock to get out.
He can do it. If there is a moment to be brave, this is it. Think of it as exposure therapy.
.