I was rather perplexed. Usually when Sherlock solved a case he was erratic and pleased with himself. Perhaps it was because he hadn't been able to catch the gunman himself. Maybe, I dared to venture, it was because they'd attacked me in specific. It was all very confusing and very frightening.
Out of nowhere, Sherlock muttered to me. "I don't want you to get hurt, John." I smiled unconvincingly. "I won't."
He sighed loudly and dramatically. "So bored!" He complained. "I wanna be on the case toooo!" He was whining like a toddler in a supermarket. I couldn't help but chuckle. "You're not allowed," I told him sternly. He glared at me, one hand covering his head. "Only because you're too lazy to 'fix me up' or so you said." I was at a loss for words for a moment. It was true, I'd been so wrapped up in the case I forgot to change Sherlock's bandaging. I ignored the fact he called me lazy and mumbled a quick apology.
I changed his bandaging, much to his own reluctance for someone who was complaining about it minutes earlier. He was so childish sometimes. But I supposed, in a way, it was almost cute. After I'd patched up his cuts, I crawled back into his bed without asking. He didn't complain, instead rolling over so that my body had just enough room.
"Sherlock?" I asked, "How do you plan to take down the group?" It was an off question, but I was curious. Also, I certainly didn't want a group like that patrolling our area. The ignorance of some people! Sherlock shrugged, still semi-deep in thought. "A similar version of how I dismantled Moriarty's network, I suppose," he said darkly. He always sounded so sinister when he talked about Moriarty and our few years apart, and honestly I didn't blame him. Those were rough times for both of us, I guess.
Sherlock pulled his phone from his bedside drawer. "You had it this whole time!?" I fumed. He shrugged, actually looking quite apologetic. I scoffed, turning away from him with my arms crossed. He could do nothing for himself!
"I have to text Mycroft about this, as I doubt he'd want this sort of company in London. Just to make him aware," he tried to explain. I didn't answer, still a bit upset with him though not upset enough to leave his bed. "It was so much easier, John," he pressed. I snorted. "Yes because you always take the 'easy' route, Sherlock." He half-smiled, but looked a bit pained by it. Upset as I was, I couldn't stay mad forever even though I wished I could. Damn him.
At some point I left the room to get more bandaging and call for takeout for supper. Evening was closing in, and for a moment I was very afraid. I'd been putting it off all day trying to enjoy Sherlock's company, but I could no longer ignore it. I made a cuppa to calm my nerves, but the time of our fallout the previous night was drawing near, and it terrified me to think of what I had to say to him. We'd had such a nice day in given the circumstances, which surprised me, but here I was prepared to ruin it. I took a deep, shaky breath and dragged my way to Sherlock's room. He appeared to be doing a puzzle of some sort. I set his food in his lap, knowing he wouldn't eat much.
"Sherlock?" I said, hating to interrupt but knowing it had to be done. He sat aside his food and board game, looking back up at me. "What," he replied monotonely. "About... About last night, and earlier this morning..." As soon as I began I could tell he was uncomfortable, but some things have to be said. I sat at the foot of the bed, preparing what I was going to say. "We hit kind of a rough patch last night, and then when I found you this morning I just couldn't function right. I couldn't think, I just had to do, you know?" Despite what everything my head was telling me I just couldn't bring myself to speak of last night as if it was okay. The words echoed in my head, taunting me.
A mistake...not to be repeated.
I shook my head clear of those thoughts, and in front of me Sherlock stared blankly. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, which worried me more than it should have. "Look," I told him, "I have to go to work tomorrow. How can I be sure I won't come home find you dead on the floor? How am I supposed to know if I can keep you safe?" My words came out strained and hurt, but I was starting to get upset again. I didn't want to lose Sherlock again, especially to his own hand. There was only so much I could handle at a time. If only I knew why he'd done it, why he was hurting so much, I could fix it.
But Sherlock only nodded. "I understand, John. And I apologize, truly." I didn't want apologies, I wanted solutions. Still, he pressed on. "I'll work on the case tomorrow," he promised, "and have Mrs.Hudson check in for your consolation."
I nodded tiredly, but I wasn't sure at all if that was enough. The risk of losing him was much too high to let it be, but I had to respect that he wasn't going to tell me anything willingly. "I'll check on you later, eat for now and get some sleep," I pledged despite how exhausted I was with constant moving about and this mental chaos.
"No!" The tone in Sherlock's voice was alarming, but quickly quieted and returned to normal. "No, I don't want you to leave just yet." He stared up at me with sad puppy dog eyes. "Stay with me?" He asked softly. I was surprised at how much emotion was in the words he spoke. Overcome by this new show of of human in him, I agreed to stay with him through the night.
As we settled into bed, on opposite sides and far away from one another, I started to drift off to sleep despite my original plans. Next to me, Sherlock stirred. I was mostly asleep, but he must have thought I was completely as he turned back to me, looping his hand around my waist. I held my breath, shocked. "I didn't mean a word of it," he whispered. "Not one."
Perhaps I wouldn't have to bring up last night after all.
Chapter 10
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