John was sitting in the flat, his back against the wall, as he was sitting on the couch. His mind was reeling, but at the same time, he was the calmest he'd ever been.
Part of him was wondering why Mycroft called Sherlock back even after John had never answered. But he supposed that was just how the Holmes brothers were. They did things without thinking and when they did think, they didn't take anyone else opinion into matter.
Anger boiled into John. Sherlock was fucking stupid for leaving. And without telling John. Or Mrs. Hudson who was very worried when John got back to the flat.
John's fist tightened on his thigh. It was stupid. He was being stupid. How was he supposed to love someone who didn't even care for him?
He left for you, you idiot, he thought to himself.
John shook his head. No. Sherlock didn't love him. Mycroft was just another pawn in the game. And John....John was the one stupid enough to fall into the game.
God...the stupid game. With fucking Moriarty and Eurus. Sherlock was right. He'd dealt with so much...he'd gone through almost dying more than once...
But it had all been with Sherlock. When Sherlock would let him in and talk to him just enough for John to understand. And now John didn't understand a thing.
His chest constricted and he got up, pacing around the room and he glanced at the clock.
"Fuck," he said aloud. It had only been an hour. How had it only been an hour? It felt like an eternity. Like he'd been in this room forever.
He twisted his hands and then let out a long breath. He needed to calm down.
He closed his eyes but they flew open a moment later when he heard the door slam open on the floor below, and he heard that familar fast treading of shoes, and he felt his heart speed up and his mind race....
....and then the door flew open and there stood Sherlock, his hair a mess, his shirt a bit undone and rid up on his hip, his eyes wide and his mouth open.
And then Sherlock spoke, his voice low and rough and laced with worry and desperateness; "Yo....You're not hurt? You're a-alive"
YOU ARE READING
Just Within Your Reach
Fanfiction-The case was a disaster. The storm had come early, and they were stuck in the hotel. John didn't want to be in the room, not now. Not with Sherlock right there. Just within his reach. If he wanted, he could reach out, pull Sherlock close, hold him...
