Sherlock kept looking at the clock on the plane.
10 minutes....
20 minutes....
25 minutes...
30 minutes and 45 seconds.....
40 minutes.....
58 minutes, 23 seconds, and 1.5 milliseconds....
An hour.....
1 hour and 15 minutes...
Sherlock jumped when someone touched his shoulder. "We're here, Mr. Holmes," they said and Sherlock jumped from his seat. He rushed off of.....whatever he was in and....and realized Mycroft had a car waiting for him.
One of his normal black sleek cars, and Sherlock didn't even wait another moment before he opened the door and quickly climbed in. And apparently the driver already knew because they began driving the moment the door was closed.
Sherlock spent the entire ride with his leg going, his foot hitting the floorboard over and over again. He worried at his bottom lip and pulled at the edge of his shirt.
And when the car got stuck in traffic, not even 10 minutes from the flat, Sherlock felt his heart stop.
He didn't even think. He just simply threw the door open - not even shutting it behind him - and he began to run. He couldn't even count the number of people he ran into. He no doubt looked like a mess, his hair astray and his shirt rucked from where he ran into people.
The moment he saw 221B, he sped up. He threw the door open, ignoring the slight scream from where Mrs. Hudson would be cleaning the floor because of the time and the date.
He rushed up the stairs and threw the door open....and his heart sped up even further, his chest rising and falling fast, his mouth agape.
"Yo....You're not hurt? You're a-alive" he asked, his voice low and rough and laced with worry and desperateness. John stood still, his own stance the same mix. Sherlock shook his head and swallowed. "M-mycroft said you were....." he trails off and mentally hits himself. Of course Mycroft had lied.
Sherlock straightened himself, and he shook himself. "You're fine," he stated.
"Of course I'm fine, Sherlock," John answered.
"Nothing happened to you."
"Well I wouldn't say nothing."
"Then something did happen?"
"Yeah, something happened. You bloody left Sherlock."
"I left to protect you."
Silence.
Sherlock's heart sped up. He'd said something wrong. He'd done everything wrong. John knew. John hated him. John didn't want him anym-
"You should've told me," John whispers.
Sherlock looks up at him. "No. I couldn't have."
"Why not?"
"Because you would've tried to stop me."
"And what if I did? Huh? Maybe you're worth stopping."
Again, silence.
Tensed.
Angry and hurt roared around the room.
"I'm not worth stopping," Sherlock answered.
"And why not?" John shot back.
"Because I'm Sherlock Holmes. The freak."
"Maybe that's why you deserve it"
"I deserve it because I'm a freak?"
"No, because you're Sherlock Holmes."
"Oh yeah, what makes me so special? Look, John, no on cares."
"I care, Sherlock"
Silence.
Nothing.
"You shouldn't"
"Why not? It's my choice."
Sherlock sighs and runs a hand over his face, moving into the room, not looking at John.
"It is, Sherlock. It's my choice," John's voice rose.
"Well it's a stupid choice," his rose as well.
He wondered why John was so....why he cared so much....
"Oh Mr. Let-me-up-and-leave-with-no-note-and-have-my-only-friend-worry-about-me-Holmes."
Sherlock scoffs.
"No! You do not get to scoff at me."
"Why not? It's my body."
"Well as it turns out it's also mine, to keep you from doing drugs!"
Silence again.
Voices echoing.
"I can do them if I want"
"No you bloody well can not"
"And why not? It's not like you care!"
"I..I dont c-care? What in the bloody name of the queen do you mean I don't care?"
"I mean you're to busy in your own head all the time to actually notice the things right in front of you! You're too into yourself to see what's so blindingly obvious that it's actually so stupid you cannot tell. And I'm beginning to think I should've never come back!" he yells, his voice broken,
He can feel John break before he hears it, "I'm the one being to into my own head, Sherlock? You're the one who being so stupid and retarded you can't see the shit we all for you! You can't see the things I hold back every day for you!"
Silence.
Sherlock's mind reels. What he hold back every day? Does he....no....he can't mean....that's impossible....he can't feel...No, Sherlock was going crazy...
"What the hell is so important to you , you hide it away from me? Don't you think it's fucking unfair that you're doing that? What the fuck did I come back to because this right here is not worth it. What is so worth it?" his voice is rising even more, and he can feel the tension roll off of John in waves.
"I'm in love with you, you bloody idiot!"
Silence.
Echoing words.
Regret.
Pain.
Realization.
Silence.
JE LEEST
Just Within Your Reach
Fanfictie-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...
