Damnit, Sherlock. [ He hisses, meeting that gaze, after hearing that question. He doesn't want you to look at him like that, with that face, still so boyish and innocent and incredibly irresistible. As if he doesn't know that this thing he's done is actually a very bad thing, and that he's caused some actual damage here. ]
You don't deserve an answer, you know. I shouldn't be your problem anymore, I really shouldn't care this much. I could have married someone. I could have at least moved on enough that I might be dating someone, someone completely normal who wouldn't dare think of leaving me just for the sake of an experiment. [ He lets his head drop, voice quiet for a moment. ] I thought... I thought we really had something.
Funny thing is, I don't think I actually ever completely gave up on you. Do you know how absolutely mad that makes me, for hoping you'd come back, for so long? You could have found something else, or someone else much more interesting. Hell, you could have been dead for all I knew. I couldn't keep... I had to
( ... )
[It would be difficult to tell if John had ever actually missed him at all, considering the man's obvious frustration and sheer anger. He was a mess of emotions even when he was doing his very best to try and hide them. But his answer does prove something of a point and there is a very subtle smile that forms on the corner of Sherlock's lips. Hard to see even with John's trained eyes, the doctor could always tell when he was smiling.]
You were never my problem, John. If anything... I was yours.
[Sherlock will let his head hang down again, casting his eyes to the floor. He really didn't like this carpet, never did actually.]
I understand that my leaving must have hurt... but you have no idea how much worse it was for me to have to do it.
[ Oh, John saw the smile alright, but he'll refuse to return it with one of his own. A year and three odd months is a very long time. He hasn't changed completely, but he's learned what its like to live with cynicism, disappointment, and longing that nothing could possibly fulfill except this same, infuriating detective. ]
My problem? Sherlock, being with you, chasing you down the streets of London and solving ridiculous mysteries... that's what truly made me feel alive! Before you, my life was rubbish - nothing ever happened. How does that make you my problem? Because I wasn't 'safe?' [ A snort. ] You knew I craved danger as much as you craved the puzzles.
[Yes, that was all very true, and he'll nod his head slowly in response. It had taken Sherlock some time in order to come to terms with the fact that John purposely put himself in the way of danger simply because that was where he actually wanted to be, and not because it was something that he had managed to accidentally drag the good doctor into.]
Well... in that case, I believe I have solved my biggest puzzle...
[He's hesitant again, and it shows, but Sherlock composes himself again as he lifts his chin up slightly. The other man may or may not have wanted to hear the detective's conclusion, but Sherlock would not have been satisfied if he did not reveal his final solution.]
[ John... honestly does not know what to say to that. He's caught off guard, to say the very least. Some part of him is overjoyed to hear Sherlock say that, knowing its the best declaration of love he'll ever get. But its been over a year. Lowering his gaze again, he forces himself to straighten, slowly releasing his hold of the chair. He's not entirely certain his knees won't buckle again, but at least he's almost gotten over the initial shock of seeing the detective again. His voice is pained, and the words are difficult to say, but he has to get them out. ]
Sherlock.
What took you three months to realize, and then an entire year to be certain of... I could have told you before you left. Hell, I could have told you as much not a week after we first met. I might not have been certain, but I was bloody well sure I didn't want to leave you to realize the rest of the world is nothing compared to what I had with you
( ... )
...To be honest, I wasn't quite sure what I was looking for. I needed absolution. For the first time in my life I actually felt something, but I didn't know for the life of me what it was. I assumed it was the fear of commitment. To be tied down to an ordinary life, to slowly become dull and predictable..
I just... I needed to get away from everything. Everyone. I had to think without distraction.
[By this point he just can not resist. It had been far too long since he made any physical contact with this man, and that short lived embrace just wasn't satisfying him any longer. Sherlock stepped over, lifting John's chin up with his hand as he stared onto him longingly.]
But I realized... the world is a mediocre place,, it'll always be that way and there's very little anyone can do to change that. What matters is.... well... it's who you share your walk of life with.
John... please..... [There's a quivering sigh as he slowly takes his hand away, having to strain himself some from possibly making things worse by invading ones
( ... )
[ Even the slightest touch has John's body working in conflicting ways. Part of him wants to pull away, to push Sherlock away again and possibly even cause physical harm to him this time. The other part of him wants to go back to how things used to be, and fall into that embrace he still remembered so well. The conflict and uncertainty is there in his gaze as he stubbornly presses his lips together, keeping his expression as stoic as possible. Sherlock's words send a dull aching through his tired body, and when he can finally speak, the sound that escapes is almost the equivalent of a pitiful little sob. He hates his body for making that sound, and he shakes his head. ]
I don't know if I can do this, Sherlock. I don't know if I can take you back after what you've done to me, and walk around on eggshells, never knowing whether or not I'll wake up and find another damned note saying you've gone again.
I trusted you, I... [ His voice breaks on the word: ] loved you, and you left, because, what...our life together wasn't exciting
( ... )
But... but that's the thing. It doesn't matter. [Of course this all makes perfect sense to him. Sherlock always did find some difficulty when it came to conveying his thoughts to the doctor. Not that John couldn't possibly understand, he was the only person who actually did understand, it was simply the detective's lacking capability to organize his thoughts into coherent phrases.]
None of it matters. [His hands fall to John's shoulders and gripping onto him tightly.] It's you. You matter. That's all.
I don't care if you can never trust me. I don't care if you decide to hate me forever. Just... please, John... let me stay with you.
[ John is just... tired. His shoulders tense between that grip, but he can't force himself to push the other away again. He looks up into that gaze with something like resignation slipping into his own, even as he continues to glare steadily. His knees threaten to buckle again, despite his sheer force of will... it was just all too much. This whole night, seeing this ghost of a man he'd started to finally believe he just might never see again. Sherlock's words cut him deep - of course they mean something to him. Its just too much to take now. His hands are clenching into fists at his sides again, although he forces them to relax. ]
[The detective wasn't quite ready to let go of him just yet. Feeling John's body tense under his hold, Sherlock reached his hand up and with his thumb he would just lightly clear the tears away from John's eyes. He had to refrain from making too much contact and his arms would slowly drop back down at his sides. They had to start all over again and Sherlock simply needed to learn how to be patient.]
Why am I so swamped in tags, gah...mightbebloggingOctober 16 2011, 01:13:26 UTC
[ John inhaled sharply and closed his eyes when Sherlock moved to wipe away those tears... but he did not jerk away. He was angry and disappointed in this man, and he wanted him to know that... but he was so tired. He did, however, keep his own hands pointedly to himself, and taking in a breath, John stepped back, and away from that very real presence before him. ]
Your things are... gone. What you left, anyway. Packed up, and Mycroft took them. But your bed is still there.
[ The room that had once been so cluttered with Sherlock's things was practically empty, and no one had slept there since the detective had gone. ]
Same xD I think we're loved, that's why.deducing_freakOctober 16 2011, 01:51:01 UTC
[Well, he had been wondering why everything seemed so... neat. Apparently Sherlock didn't realize just how much of his life was spread about the rooms, without all of his clutter, it all just seemed empty and... well, it looked clean for once. Which wasn't really a bad thing, Mrs. Hudson probably loved it. When John stepped back, he would do the same, turning as he glanced about the room. It was so familiar yet it felt very foreign at the same time. There was a definite groove in the carpet, signaling a trail where the doctor must have been pacing back and forth. By the condition of the windows, it didn't look like the curtains had been opened very often, if at all.]
I'm sure he must have jumped at the opportunity to snoop through my stuff. [There's an obvious tone of distaste in his voice, but it would only make sense that his brother be the one to hold his things while he was gone. No doubt he'd be getting lectured for it later on.]
Yes we are! And netflix is distracting me... >.> BUT I STILL LOVE YOU AND YOU ARE MY FAVORITE!mightbebloggingOctober 16 2011, 03:01:02 UTC
[ Yes, John had worn a path in the already ugly carpet with his pacing. And after a while, there had been no point opening those curtains, no point looking outside at the world. Without Sherlock in it, it was much more commonplace and ordinary. Funny, but it had never seemed boring when he had been there with John. It took his leaving for everything to slow down, and nothing to ever happen to him again. Meanwhile, he nodded somewhat indifferently to Sherlock's comment, still keeping a distance from him. Any more touching that evening might very well be his final undoing. His voice is calm when he speaks, although he feels anything but that inside. ]
So did Mycroft know, then? Where you were all this time?
:D OMIGAWSH REELEE?!deducing_freakOctober 16 2011, 04:01:02 UTC
[There was no way he would have gone to his brother. Though the thought had crossed his mind, that maybe he should have at least let one person know where he had disappeared to. But it would have only been a matter of time before Mycroft found out anyway.]
I didn't tell him anything. But he had gotten close a couple times while I was gone... He seemed pretty determined.
[Sherlock moves over to the doorway, picking up his duffel bag and finds John's phone still on the floor. His call with Harry had already ended. At least it was good to see he kept in contact with people and wasn't completely alone this whole time. With a weak smile he just hands the phone over to the doctor.]
[ John only nods, a little surprised that Mycroft had not actually succeeded in finding his brother. Both men were stubborn as hell, and what with the power the older Holmes had... but then, he'd always known Sherlock to be more clever. When the other picks up his phone and offers it to him, he sighs quietly. Harry. He'd completely forgotten about the very real sister he was talking to the moment the long-lost detective had walked in out of the blue. Taking the phone back, he decides he'll call her tomorrow. Right now... he just wants to sleep, or pace, or punch the wall, or scream, or a combination of all of the above. Slipping the phone into his pocket, he glances up at the other, asking one last, detached question. ]
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You don't deserve an answer, you know. I shouldn't be your problem anymore, I really shouldn't care this much. I could have married someone. I could have at least moved on enough that I might be dating someone, someone completely normal who wouldn't dare think of leaving me just for the sake of an experiment. [ He lets his head drop, voice quiet for a moment. ] I thought... I thought we really had something.
Funny thing is, I don't think I actually ever completely gave up on you. Do you know how absolutely mad that makes me, for hoping you'd come back, for so long? You could have found something else, or someone else much more interesting. Hell, you could have been dead for all I knew. I couldn't keep... I had to ( ... )
Reply
You were never my problem, John. If anything... I was yours.
[Sherlock will let his head hang down again, casting his eyes to the floor. He really didn't like this carpet, never did actually.]
I understand that my leaving must have hurt... but you have no idea how much worse it was for me to have to do it.
Reply
My problem? Sherlock, being with you, chasing you down the streets of London and solving ridiculous mysteries... that's what truly made me feel alive! Before you, my life was rubbish - nothing ever happened. How does that make you my problem? Because I wasn't 'safe?' [ A snort. ] You knew I craved danger as much as you craved the puzzles.
Reply
Well... in that case, I believe I have solved my biggest puzzle...
[He's hesitant again, and it shows, but Sherlock composes himself again as he lifts his chin up slightly. The other man may or may not have wanted to hear the detective's conclusion, but Sherlock would not have been satisfied if he did not reveal his final solution.]
John... I simply can not live without you.
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Sherlock.
What took you three months to realize, and then an entire year to be certain of... I could have told you before you left. Hell, I could have told you as much not a week after we first met. I might not have been certain, but I was bloody well sure I didn't want to leave you to realize the rest of the world is nothing compared to what I had with you ( ... )
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I just... I needed to get away from everything. Everyone. I had to think without distraction.
[By this point he just can not resist. It had been far too long since he made any physical contact with this man, and that short lived embrace just wasn't satisfying him any longer. Sherlock stepped over, lifting John's chin up with his hand as he stared onto him longingly.]
But I realized... the world is a mediocre place,, it'll always be that way and there's very little anyone can do to change that. What matters is.... well... it's who you share your walk of life with.
John... please..... [There's a quivering sigh as he slowly takes his hand away, having to strain himself some from possibly making things worse by invading ones ( ... )
Reply
I don't know if I can do this, Sherlock. I don't know if I can take you back after what you've done to me, and walk around on eggshells, never knowing whether or not I'll wake up and find another damned note saying you've gone again.
I trusted you, I... [ His voice breaks on the word: ] loved you, and you left, because, what...our life together wasn't exciting ( ... )
Reply
None of it matters. [His hands fall to John's shoulders and gripping onto him tightly.] It's you. You matter. That's all.
I don't care if you can never trust me. I don't care if you decide to hate me forever. Just... please, John... let me stay with you.
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Fine. You can stay.
[ He swallows hard, painfully. ]
But that's all, Sherlock.
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That's all I ask.
[The detective wasn't quite ready to let go of him just yet. Feeling John's body tense under his hold, Sherlock reached his hand up and with his thumb he would just lightly clear the tears away from John's eyes. He had to refrain from making too much contact and his arms would slowly drop back down at his sides. They had to start all over again and Sherlock simply needed to learn how to be patient.]
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Your things are... gone. What you left, anyway. Packed up, and Mycroft took them. But your bed is still there.
[ The room that had once been so cluttered with Sherlock's things was practically empty, and no one had slept there since the detective had gone. ]
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I'm sure he must have jumped at the opportunity to snoop through my stuff. [There's an obvious tone of distaste in his voice, but it would only make sense that his brother be the one to hold his things while he was gone. No doubt he'd be getting lectured for it later on.]
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So did Mycroft know, then? Where you were all this time?
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I didn't tell him anything. But he had gotten close a couple times while I was gone... He seemed pretty determined.
[Sherlock moves over to the doorway, picking up his duffel bag and finds John's phone still on the floor. His call with Harry had already ended. At least it was good to see he kept in contact with people and wasn't completely alone this whole time. With a weak smile he just hands the phone over to the doctor.]
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Where were you, Sherlock?
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