A/N Hey My Lovelies!!!! I'M BACK!!!! so... it's been a really shitty month or so, long story short, I've left my husband and have been fighting to pull myself out of a really bad depression. So this story is a short little one, just kinda practice for me lol... it is based on the song "Its Quiet Uptown" from the Hamilton Musical so I hope you'll like it!!! Bare with me a while longer while I settle into my new life okay babes?
Also I am thinking of starting a blog, so I can tell ya'll my tales... would you guys read something like that? Let me know...
Anyways... Enjoy <3
The quiet of the park was broken with a peel of gleeful laughter, sending a mix of fondness and pain through Sherlock’s heart.
He pulled his coat tight against his chest, fussing anxiously with the collar as he watched his old friend, chasing his child playfully. The smile on John’s face was happy, but it wasn’t the smile Sherlock remembered.
It had been over a year. Over a year since Mary’s death. Over a year since Molly had handed him the note, the one that had torn his already fragile world apart.
“You are dangerous. I can’t have you around my daughter anymore. Stay away from me, stay away from Rosie, just stay away. Please.”
He had done what John had asked, leaving his blogger alone to grieve, but staying away was reminding him of just how little he had to live for outside of the former soldier. He needed to see his friend again, to hear his voice and feel the strength of his presence.
So he stood in the too-quiet park, hovering near the tree-line, his heart torn between wanting to be seen and remaining unnoticed.
His chest tightened as his eyes met the steel blue ones he missed so deeply. He swallowed the impulse to flee and offered the other man a timid smile.
He noticed the way John’s jaw clenched, the hurt and anger that filled his eyes bleeding into his stance.
For a moment, Sherlock was sure he would be sent off in a flurry of angry words and threats, but then he noticed the tiredness in John’s eyes, the way his shoulders sagged as he sent Rosie stumbling towards the sandbox.
Sherlock took his time approaching, feeling the tension grow with each step he took. He kept his distance, turning to face the playground when he was a few feet away. It was too far for his liking, but John needed the space, he could feel the pain the other man was experiencing.
They were quiet for a long while, the unspoken words hovering between them, nearly suffocating Sherlock in the quiet air.
“It’s quiet.” Sherlock mumbled softly, breaking the silence between them. John huffed a laugh, shaking his head at the ground and shoving his hands further into his pockets. “You never liked the quiet before.”
“People change, Sherlock.” John sighed, smiling sadly at his daughter as she played. “Mary always preferred the quiet, anyways.” Sherlock fought back a flinch at the harshness in John’s tone. “Why are you here, Sherlock? I told you to stay away.” The anger in John’s words was tainted by another emotion, one Sherlock had come to be far too familiar with in the last year.
“John I-” another belt of gleeful laughter filled the air as Rosie threw a handful of sand, “if I could go back, if I could spare her life, trade her life for mine-” his breath caught in his throat as he fought to ignore the single tear that escaped the corner of John’s eye. “She would be standing here right now, Rosamund would have a mother, and you would smile, and that would be enough.” John sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “I know I don’t deserve you, but please, hear me out.”
“Sherlock-”
“I don’t pretend to know how challenging this must be for you and Rosamund.” Sherlock turned to face his friend, letting the pain and regret on his heart play over his face. He was determined to hide nothing from John again.
John met his eyes, hesitation and uncertainty hidden there.
“What do you want from me, Sherlock? I can’t- how can I trust you after-” Sherlock drew a shaky breath, John had every right to turn him away. He had been responsible for Mary’s death, after all.
“I have hurt you, ruined your life, wronged you in the worst of ways. I’ve taken your love and friendship for granted.” Sherlock took a step closer, fighting the urge to reach for the broken man before him. “I know there’s no replacing what you’ve lost, and you need time-” He hesitated when John broke, bowing his head and covering his eyes with his hand as he sobbed.
Sherlock closed the gap between them, pulling the broken soldier close and cradling the back of his head gently with his palm. His heart swelled with relief when his touch was accepted, and he tenderly rested his cheek against John’s hair, blinking away tears of his own.
“Just let me stay here, by your side. Let me try to fix this, that would be enough.” John stayed in his arms, crying silently against his chest.
“Daddy?” The soft voice of a child pulled the men out of their grief. John stepped back, wiping his eyes and turning to grin down at his daughter.
“What is it, Love?” He asked softly, kneeling on the ground and pulling the girl close, pressing a soft kiss to her unruly hair. She smiled shyly up at Sherlock, leaning over to whisper in John’s ear, her words making the older man smile and glance up at the detective. “Rosie, this is your Uncle Sherlock.” Tears threatened to spill at John’s words as Sherlock blinked rapidly and offered the girl a soft smile.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rosamund.” The smile he received in response was enough to begin repairing the cracks in his heart.
John sighed, fussing with Rosie’s hair for a moment before standing, gathering the toys and diaper bag that had been scattered around before lifting the child into his arms.
“How about, we ask Uncle Sherlock if he wants to go for ice cream?” After a moment of joyous squealing, the group left the park, Rosie babbling on about something Sherlock had no hope of understanding.
Sherlock’s world stopped as he felt John’s hand grip his own timidly.
“It really is quiet out here, isn’t it?” He commented, earning himself a laugh from his friend.
“I know, it’s bloody awful.”
“What do you think just happened?” Lestrade asked, taking a sip of coffee as they watched John and Sherlock leaving the park. A pleased smile crossed Mycroft’s face as they watched John taking Sherlock’s hand, a sign of a friendship finally being repaired.
“Forgiveness, Detective Inspector, I believe that was forgiveness.”
“You think they will be okay?”
“I don’t know Gregory, they are trying to do the unimaginable, and even for two people as intelligent as they are, I worry about how it will end.” The quiet air was broken by the sound of laughter as the detective and his blogger disappeared from view.
