A/N Hey My Lovelies!!! here is the next chapter!!! Hope you're liking it so far!! Enjoy<3
John hadn't seen Sherlock in a week.
He knew that the ghost wasn't gone, he felt the tell-tale signs of static electricity whenever he tried talking to his friend, but Sherlock wasn't showing himself. John was miserable without his ghost. At first, he had been concerned that the shock his body had received had somehow disrupted his energy. When Sherlock had blasted the hospital room with his energy, his body had gone into cardiac arrest. The doctors had been able to revive him, but it was a close call. John had suffered a minor concussion from hitting the glass, but it wasn't serious.
"He really hasn't talked to you since the hospital?" Greg asked, waving at the waitress and ordering two more beers. John had asked Greg if he wanted to meet for a pint, unable to take the quiet of the flat any longer.
"Yeah, I don't know what to do. I want to help him, but I don't know what's wrong."
"Maybe his little outburst drained his power?"
"No, I can feel him manipulating the energy in the flat, so he has power. He's just ignoring me." John sipped the cold beer that had been placed in front of him, determined to not leave the pub until he was too drunk to miss Sherlock. "I miss him Greg." John's friend looked at his own beer awkwardly, still not fully sure how to handle John and Sherlock's relationship.
"Have you told him that?"
"Of course. He isn't listening."
"I could ask Mycroft if there is any way to pull Sherlock out of a funk. I remember there being a few times when he would go off the deep end like this. Myc was always able to talk him down."
"Sure, and what exactly are you going to tell him? 'Hey Babe, so you know how your little brother is in a coma? Well his spirit is living with and dating my best friend John, but is currently mad at him for some unknown reason. What do you think he should do?'" John sighed heavily and slammed his head against the counter. "I just have to find the right spell to bring him back. Then he'll have to talk to me." John tried to stand, but promptly fell over as the alcohol hit him full force. Greg jumped to his aid, pulling him to his feet and propping him up against the bar.
"Alright, time to get you home." He paid the bill and wrapped John's arm around his neck, grabbing the shorter man's waist and hauling him from the bar. It was too late to catch a cab and they weren't far from John's flat, so Greg slowly led John down the sidewalk, trying to keep him from stumbling.
They reached his flat and Greg unceremoniously dropped John to the pavement, ringing the bell for the landlady's flat. Mrs. Hudson answered, looking concerned when she saw John's unconscious form on the ground.
"Oh dear."
"Yeah, could you do me a huge favour? Go grab Sherlock's little case and bring it here?" She nodded and scurried off, returning a few minutes later with the small pouch. Greg stuffed it in his pocket and crossed his arms. "Alright Sherlock, I know you're mad at John, but I kind of need a hand here. Just help me get him upstairs then you can go back to pouting." He felt the hair at the back of his neck stand on end. "Come on, I know you're there. Either you help me, or I leave John out here."
"Some friend you are." Greg jumped as he heard Sherlock's voice coming from behind him. "Threatening to leave an unconscious man on the sidewalk just because you are too lazy to haul him upstairs yourself." Sherlock looked pissed, but Greg brushed it off.
"Yeah, well I wouldn't have to haul him home tonight if you weren't pouting."
"How is this my fault?"
"He wouldn't have gotten smashed if you weren't mad at him. Now, grab an arm." Sherlock blinked at Greg, not moving. "Come on, I know you can grab things."
"I'm not mad at him."
"Great! Now help before I drop him." Sherlock stepped forward, taking John's other arm and slinging it over his shoulder. Greg had to shake his head to clear away the awe at seeing a ghost helping to carry a drunk man up a flight of stairs. "So, if you aren't mad at him, why aren't you talking to him?"
"I don't want to hurt him again." Greg sighed, pushing open the flat door and leading them inside, dropping John on the sofa.
"Hurt him how?"
"I threw him against a wall Gavin. His head was bleeding."
"You were upset. It was an accident."
"You're a cop, tell me that doesn't sound like a domestic abuse story."
"Sherlock, you're a ghost. Nothing about your situation sounds like a domestic abuse story." The pale man huffed, flickering out of sight before reappearing by the kitchen door, far away from John. "Listen, take it from the guy that just had to spend the night listening to him talk about you, this is killing him. He didn't mention you throwing him against the wall once. You know what he did talk about? How much he misses you." Sherlock looked at John, pain filling his eyes. "I've got to get home, you think you can get him to bed in one piece?" He didn't bother giving Sherlock the chance to object, tossing the case on John's chest before leaving. He paused at the door, not turning, but speaking loud enough for the ghost to hear. "Talk to him. I promise, your ignoring him is doing more harm than good."
Sherlock watched John sleeping on the sofa, pondering Gavin's words. He feared hurting John again. He allowed himself to flicker closer to his sleeping lover, standing just past arms length away. John yawned and stretched, making a soft dinosaur-like noise as he did. Sherlock smiled, feeling affection growing at the action. He loved watching John sleep.
"I'm sorry John." He whispered to the unconscious man, drawing forth every ounce of power he could to solidify his body. He reached down and lifted John into his arms, carrying him down the hall to his room. John whimpered and squirmed, the intensity of Sherlock's energy no doubt uncomfortable for him.
"Sherlock?" John's eyes blinked open, fighting to focus on Sherlock's own.
"Hush now My Love. Go back to sleep." He whispered, lowering the drunk man to the mattress and making to leave.
"No!" John latched onto Sherlock's arm, keeping him close. "Please don't leave again. Please. I miss you."
"John-"
"No, please. I'm sorry for whatever I did. Just please don't leave me. I love you, please stay." Sherlock felt his heart break at the pleading tone in his lover's voice. John swung his legs off the bed, blinking and shaking his head before grabbing Sherlock's hips and pulling him close. Sherlock allowed himself to be pulled forward, coming to stand between John's knees.
"I'm sorry John." He whispered, tracing his fingers along the shorter man's jawline. "I'm so sorry."
"Why are you sorry?"
"I hurt you." John giggled, resting his head against Sherlock's chest. "Why are you laughing? It's not funny John. I could have killed you."
"Sorry, I just had a thought."
"What thought?"
"I should buy you a tiara." Sherlock blinked in confusion, causing John to giggle some more. "I think you would look cute with a sparkly tiara sitting on those curls." Sherlock blushed, unsure how to respond. "Not that I don't think you look cute anyways, in fact, I think you're fucking gorgeous."
"Alright, you need to go to sleep."
"Will you stay?"
"I don't-"
"Please? I can't sleep without you." John's eyes were wide and glassy, and Sherlock felt his resolve crumble. He nodded, feeling his heart go weightless at the happy grin John shot him. "Kiss first." John demanded, and Sherlock obeyed, unable to stop his own grin at the pleased sound John made when their lips met.
He got John tucked into bed and lay down beside him, watching his lover as his sleepy body took over. John yawned and stretched, making another soft dinosaur noise as he did.
"Good night John."
"Good night Sherlock. I love you." John was asleep almost as soon as he finished his statement.
"I love you too John."