Deduce Me

Thirty: Returning to Baker Street

(A/N: Oh, triple update today!!

Err... Spoilers for The Fault in Our Stars, if you haven't read/watched it yet. (Which you should have, but still...))

John

The rest of our holiday break was stress-free. We celebrated New Year's with Sherlock's family. We even snuck in a kiss at midnight behind Siger's back. As far as he knew, Sherlock and I were just friends... We would both hate to find out how Siger would react if he found out about us.

Soon enough, it was time to go back to school. As we walked in the door to 221B, I set my bag down on my bed and fell face-first onto my pillow. "No offence to your family," I told Sherlock, "but I am so happy to be back to school. ...Which is something I never thought I'd say."

"Believe me, I know," Sherlock carefully put his microscope on his desk, among the various notes and clutter, and then moved to pick up his violin. Slowly, delicately, he dragged the bow across the strings, pulling the notes so they stretched and moaned. It was beautiful, but it didn't last long enough.

"I want to read a book," he said when the song was over.

"Okay..."

"Do you want to read one with me?" He was peering at the books on the bookshelf.

I looked at him in confusion. "You read so much faster than me... How am I supposed to keep up?"

He thought for a moment. "I'll read to you?"

"You want to read a book to me?" I thought of Sherlock's deep voice transporting me to another world, just like his violin does. "What brought this up?"

He instantly looked sheepish- well, as sheepish as Sherlock Holmes is able to look. "We don't have to, never mind," he mumbled and stepped away from the books.

"No, no, no, I want to!" He looked up with wide eyes. Even from across the room, I could see his eyes widen and a small smile play at the corners of his lips. "What did you have in mind?"

"I was thinking of something... I don't know, sad?"

"Sad?"

"Yeah," he looked out the window at the cloudy sky and chilling rain. "It just feels like a sad book kind of day."

"Can't argue with that," I said as I moved over to make room for him on the bed. "Okay, a sad book, then."

"What do you recommend?" Sherlock scanned the titles on the shelf. He pulled one light blue covered book out and studied it. "The Fault in Our Stars. John Green," he read. "Sad?"

"Depressing," I admitted. "Cancer" was the only explanation I gave, then nodded to let him know that I wanted to read that one.

He climbed under the covers next to me and flipped to the first page. "Late in the winter of my seventeenth year, my mother decided I was depressed..." he began, and his deep melodic voice carried the words in such a way that I felt as if they themselves were present in the room with us; as if I was watching a scene unfold before me rather than Sherlock reading it out.

Sherlock reads fast enough that we finished the book by the end of the day. I cried a little- of course- when we got to Hazel's eulogy for Gus, and I sobbed at the very end.

Sherlock read the last paragraph quietly. His voice was deeper than it usually was- a combination of talking for a long time and holding back his emotions.

"'She is so beautiful. You don't ever get tired of looking at her. You never worry if she is smarter than you: You know she is. She is funny without ever being mean. I love her. I am so lucky to love her...'" I couldn't even see through my years at this point.

"'You don't get to choose of you get hurt in this world, old man, but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices. I hope she likes hers.' I do, Agustus," Sherlock read. "I do."

The book closed with finality. There was a soft thud as Sherlock set it down, and I put my arms around his neck and buried my face in his chest. He wound his arms around my waist, and held me close as wave after wave of loss hit me. These are fictional characters, I reminded myself. It shouldn't hurt this much. But of course, the pain demanded to be felt.

The rain continued to fall against the window pane.

»»»»

At night, long after the tears had stopped, Sherlock was still holding me close.

"Next time you want to read a story, Sherl, let's make it a happy one."

Sherlock chuckled. I could feel his laughter rumble in his chest. "I think that might be best. We don't want another one of your crying episodes..."

"Oh, shut up. You cried, too." The sun was almost gone over the horizon. What little light that was left struggled to break through the downpour. I could barely see the outline of Sherlock's profile.

"Did not," he insisted.

"Did so! There's no way you didn't shed some tears."

"I don't know if you've noticed, John, but I am not easily moved by emotions."

I lightly touched the inside of his wrist, and held up his arm. Taking his pulse. I felt his heartbeat fluttering beneath the skin. "Yeah, I definitely got that impression from you."

He didn't reply.

I only chuckled, and snuggled deeper into the warm blankets. "Sherlock?"

"Mmm?"

"Are you sleeping in my bed tonight?"

"I figured I might as well. I'm quite comfortable."

"Good."

"Goodnight, Jawn."

"Sweet dreams, Sherlock. Love you."

I could see a hint of a smile on his lips. "Love you, too."

A few minutes passed and I fell closer to sleep. "John?" Sherlock spoke quietly, as if he was checking whether or not I was asleep yet.

"Mmm?"

"I... may have cried a little."

Honestly, I laughed so hard that tears came to my eyes. "I know, Sherlock..."

(A/N: Well, that pointless chapter ended rather abruptly... Sorry!

Vote, comment, and/or follow, my lovelies. <3)