Please Don't Leave Me - Sherlock fic
Title: Please Don’t Leave Me
Pairing: John/Sherlock
Summary: The intensity of their feelings for each other goes in good and bad directions. Warning for domestic violence.
A/N: I have tried to write this story several times, based on this song http://youtu.be/4dkBnMzbaJI and I immediately thought there could be a wonderful John/Sherlock fic about it. Not that there is one abusive partner and one victim. The story would be told from both points of view, two men with an intensely emotional relationship that gets volatile sometimes, but they LOVE each other, they really do. Finally, I decided to post what I wrote, and I hope that maybe someone else will try to do something better with the prompt that I have. If you can, please do. I feel this doesn’t live up to what I hoped it would be.
Sherlock never thought he’d love anyone. But if he did think of it, he knew it would be exactly like this.
Their morning had been spent having sex in John’s room, rough and fast and overtaken by a need to claim, a need to make John his.
The afternoon had devolved into another argument, starting with something ridiculous, John bitching about always having to be the one having to venture out to Tesco’s so that the fridge would be restocked with things that were edible.
“I can’t be bothered, John, you know I’ve got important work to do here.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew it was a mistake. Much farther than something a bit not good. John’s face had crumbled, and he looked away, though Sherlock knew he’d said something hurtful. He couldn’t stop himself, though. “Not like you’ve got something better to do today. Just go get the shopping done, for God’s sake, and stop complaining.”
He caught a look at John’s face in profile as he put on his coat, ready to go out and do as Sherlock had told him to do, resigned to his fate.
“You’re a right arse, you know that?” John spat, reaching for the door.
It only took three paces to cross the distance between them. Sherlock grabbed John and slammed him against the wall by the door. “You know what you’re good for, John. Fucking and shopping. Now put an end to this insufferable pouting and do it.” He followed this up by knocking John’s head against the doorjamb, knowing it would hurt, but somehow unable to stop himself.
Once John had gone, Sherlock slumped into his chair. This was the man he loved, honestly, loved, what the hell was it that made him treat John in such a disrespectful manner? The intensity of the emotions, he figured, one extreme to the other didn’t seem so far apart for some reason.
He made himself scarce as he heard John return, putting away the groceries and moving slowly through the kitchen. After a few minutes, though, he couldn’t stop himself.
“John.”
He was met with an angry glare, nothing else.
“Please, John. You know I love you. Forgive me, God, please, forgive me for being a bastard earlier.” He didn’t add, ‘and all the other times too’.
John’s look softened, and he didn’t resist Sherlock’s embrace. “I know how badly I can hurt you. But I don’t mean it. It’s always going to come back here, back to where we need each other.”
“Yeah, I know. I know, Sherlock.” John replied, still looking hurt but not pushing his lover away.
xxxxx
“You know you’re a right insensitive arse, don’t you?”
“I don’t know what I’ve done wrong, John, but if you’ll just tell me, I can at least try to-”
He was cut off when John clocked him in the jaw hard enough to make him see stars and stumble backward until he landed on his chair gracelessly.
“You sorry fuck, you’ve got no idea what love is. Take a trip into that ridiculous mind palace of yours and leave me the hell alone for a while.”
Sherlock had to put effort into stopping the tears from forming in his eyes. John thought his mind palace was ridiculous, all right. He’d always thought John understood, and now he figured he’d been wrong about that. The pain in his face was nothing compared to the pain he felt seeing John’s cold glare before he walked away.
It wasn’t more than a half an hour, though, before John was back. Sherlock was still sitting in his chair, absently rubbing at the spot where there was certainly a bruise on his face.
“Sherlock. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve never been like this before, so ugly, it’s got to be you.”
“So it’s my fault, then?”
“No, Jesus, no, it’s not your fault, you haven’t done anything wrong. It’s my reaction to you, it’s me…I’m the one who’s done something wrong. I love you. I should never hurt you like that. I’m sorry. Please, love, I’m sorry, so sorry…”
Sherlock didn’t hesitate a minute before he accepted the apology.
It was just how things were with them. Intense with love, intense with sex, intense with anger. If the anger was part of the love and the sex, they were both willing to accept it.
xxxxx
Days later, John found himself prone on the floor of their living room, balled up to try and protect himself from the onslaught of kicks and punches that had begun only hours after they’d made love sweetly and gently in Sherlock’s bed.
Eventually it stopped and John chanced a look up at his lover, who was shaking and looked horrified at what he’d done. Immediately, Sherlock stepped into the kitchen and returned with a warm cloth to soak up the blood coming from John’s split lip and the cut under his left eye.
“This isn’t a contest. I know it seems like the one who’s going to win the fight is the one who hits the hardest, but we both know that’s not true. There’s no winner here, not when we’re like this. I get scared sometimes.” John admitted.
“Scared of what?"
“That you’ll leave me. That you won’t have any more patience for my outbursts, and you’ll walk out the door and never come back."
“Darling, you’re not the only guilty one here. As much as I hate it, it takes me over too. I’ve hurt you and you’ve hurt me. It’s like we’re each other’s punching bags sometimes, with sex and with fighting. Maybe it’s the way we’re meant to be.”
“Sherlock”, John said quietly, looking up at him. “I need you. I’m sorry.” His eyes were glassy and imploring.
“I need you too. Please, I won’t leave you, but promise you won’t leave me, either. I know this situation isn’t perfect, but you’re beautiful, to me, you’re perfect, to me. I need you too.”
And that was all there was. No promises of better behavior and reactions, just a mutual acceptance.
It was all they could manage right then, with John still bleeding. But they did love each other, and if the occasional fight, even a physical fight, was a consequence of that, they’d both learn to live with it.
Pairing: John/Sherlock
Summary: The intensity of their feelings for each other goes in good and bad directions. Warning for domestic violence.
A/N: I have tried to write this story several times, based on this song http://youtu.be/4dkBnMzbaJI and I immediately thought there could be a wonderful John/Sherlock fic about it. Not that there is one abusive partner and one victim. The story would be told from both points of view, two men with an intensely emotional relationship that gets volatile sometimes, but they LOVE each other, they really do. Finally, I decided to post what I wrote, and I hope that maybe someone else will try to do something better with the prompt that I have. If you can, please do. I feel this doesn’t live up to what I hoped it would be.
Sherlock never thought he’d love anyone. But if he did think of it, he knew it would be exactly like this.
Their morning had been spent having sex in John’s room, rough and fast and overtaken by a need to claim, a need to make John his.
The afternoon had devolved into another argument, starting with something ridiculous, John bitching about always having to be the one having to venture out to Tesco’s so that the fridge would be restocked with things that were edible.
“I can’t be bothered, John, you know I’ve got important work to do here.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew it was a mistake. Much farther than something a bit not good. John’s face had crumbled, and he looked away, though Sherlock knew he’d said something hurtful. He couldn’t stop himself, though. “Not like you’ve got something better to do today. Just go get the shopping done, for God’s sake, and stop complaining.”
He caught a look at John’s face in profile as he put on his coat, ready to go out and do as Sherlock had told him to do, resigned to his fate.
“You’re a right arse, you know that?” John spat, reaching for the door.
It only took three paces to cross the distance between them. Sherlock grabbed John and slammed him against the wall by the door. “You know what you’re good for, John. Fucking and shopping. Now put an end to this insufferable pouting and do it.” He followed this up by knocking John’s head against the doorjamb, knowing it would hurt, but somehow unable to stop himself.
Once John had gone, Sherlock slumped into his chair. This was the man he loved, honestly, loved, what the hell was it that made him treat John in such a disrespectful manner? The intensity of the emotions, he figured, one extreme to the other didn’t seem so far apart for some reason.
He made himself scarce as he heard John return, putting away the groceries and moving slowly through the kitchen. After a few minutes, though, he couldn’t stop himself.
“John.”
He was met with an angry glare, nothing else.
“Please, John. You know I love you. Forgive me, God, please, forgive me for being a bastard earlier.” He didn’t add, ‘and all the other times too’.
John’s look softened, and he didn’t resist Sherlock’s embrace. “I know how badly I can hurt you. But I don’t mean it. It’s always going to come back here, back to where we need each other.”
“Yeah, I know. I know, Sherlock.” John replied, still looking hurt but not pushing his lover away.
xxxxx
“You know you’re a right insensitive arse, don’t you?”
“I don’t know what I’ve done wrong, John, but if you’ll just tell me, I can at least try to-”
He was cut off when John clocked him in the jaw hard enough to make him see stars and stumble backward until he landed on his chair gracelessly.
“You sorry fuck, you’ve got no idea what love is. Take a trip into that ridiculous mind palace of yours and leave me the hell alone for a while.”
Sherlock had to put effort into stopping the tears from forming in his eyes. John thought his mind palace was ridiculous, all right. He’d always thought John understood, and now he figured he’d been wrong about that. The pain in his face was nothing compared to the pain he felt seeing John’s cold glare before he walked away.
It wasn’t more than a half an hour, though, before John was back. Sherlock was still sitting in his chair, absently rubbing at the spot where there was certainly a bruise on his face.
“Sherlock. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve never been like this before, so ugly, it’s got to be you.”
“So it’s my fault, then?”
“No, Jesus, no, it’s not your fault, you haven’t done anything wrong. It’s my reaction to you, it’s me…I’m the one who’s done something wrong. I love you. I should never hurt you like that. I’m sorry. Please, love, I’m sorry, so sorry…”
Sherlock didn’t hesitate a minute before he accepted the apology.
It was just how things were with them. Intense with love, intense with sex, intense with anger. If the anger was part of the love and the sex, they were both willing to accept it.
xxxxx
Days later, John found himself prone on the floor of their living room, balled up to try and protect himself from the onslaught of kicks and punches that had begun only hours after they’d made love sweetly and gently in Sherlock’s bed.
Eventually it stopped and John chanced a look up at his lover, who was shaking and looked horrified at what he’d done. Immediately, Sherlock stepped into the kitchen and returned with a warm cloth to soak up the blood coming from John’s split lip and the cut under his left eye.
“This isn’t a contest. I know it seems like the one who’s going to win the fight is the one who hits the hardest, but we both know that’s not true. There’s no winner here, not when we’re like this. I get scared sometimes.” John admitted.
“Scared of what?"
“That you’ll leave me. That you won’t have any more patience for my outbursts, and you’ll walk out the door and never come back."
“Darling, you’re not the only guilty one here. As much as I hate it, it takes me over too. I’ve hurt you and you’ve hurt me. It’s like we’re each other’s punching bags sometimes, with sex and with fighting. Maybe it’s the way we’re meant to be.”
“Sherlock”, John said quietly, looking up at him. “I need you. I’m sorry.” His eyes were glassy and imploring.
“I need you too. Please, I won’t leave you, but promise you won’t leave me, either. I know this situation isn’t perfect, but you’re beautiful, to me, you’re perfect, to me. I need you too.”
And that was all there was. No promises of better behavior and reactions, just a mutual acceptance.
It was all they could manage right then, with John still bleeding. But they did love each other, and if the occasional fight, even a physical fight, was a consequence of that, they’d both learn to live with it.