*Sherlock POV*
I watch Mycroft leave, struggling to force down the feeling of abandonment as the door closes.
"Sherlock?"
"Dont talk to me."
"Let me help you, please."
"I dont need your help."
"Sherlock, you were screaming."
"I said I'm fine!"
John flinches visibly, startled by my sharp tone. I instantly regret yelling, turning to face him slowly.
"I'm sorry."
He looks up at me in shock, not speaking for a moment.
"Wh...what?"
"I said...I'm sorry."
"Do you-"
"No, I dont."
John nods, lying down and clicking off the lamp. I watch him for a few moments, eventually doing the same. Neither of us can sleep, so eventually John gets up and puts the kettle on.
"Want anything?"
"Tea?"
"If you want, yes."
I nod slowly, smiling softly as John hands me a cup. His fingers brush against mine, startling me but at the same time sending excitement through my body. He doesn't seem to notice, just sits on his bed and watches me drink.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. What I want to know, is what the hell you two did to me."
"How do you mean?"
I pull up my sleeves, showing John the newly forming bruises along the inside of my wrists.
"That's your grip."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to put so much pressure on you."
"Would you..."
I blush, looking down into my cup.
"Would I what?"
"Nothing."
"Sherlock..."
"Well you...you kind of don't...dont have a...a umm..."
John looks down, chucking softly as he realizes what I mean.
"Would you like me to put a shirt on?"
I nod slightly, just barely enough for him to notice, before looking back down into my tea.
