(text) That works for me. -JW ((*hugs* i missed you too))
Sherlock stared at the smaller man, giving his arm a little pinch. “I was, but now I’m not” he told John, shifting around him some to put the kettle on.
“Now… what’s that for?” he intoned, staring the Captain down some, repressing all sexual urges at the moment.
John smiles a bit. “That’s all well and good.” He kicks the bag a bit. “I’ve…uh… Been gone for the last couple of weeks. Since my therapist says I’m better, she thought it was alright for the army to enlist me in a training program for new medical recruits.” He frowns a bit at Sherlock. “I thought I told you…”
“John?” Sherlock asked in a gasp, sitting up on the couch quickly and breathing heavily. He looked around the living room and dropped his head into his hands before he stood heading towards the kitchen.
He felt his sweat chilling against his skin and he sighed deeply before he set about to make tea.
John was at the door when Sherlock arrived in the kitchen, a bag in hand and dressed in military garb. He was closing the door when he looked up to see his flatmate arrive in the kitchen.
Sighing a bit and smiling, he put down his bag. “I wasn’t sure if you were asleep or not.” He said, silently kicking himself for stating the obvious.
With too much exhaustion starting to sink in his body, he could only lean his head on John’s shoulder, hands embracing him. Soothing the broken doctor and himself as well. “I have..always been…waiting for you, John. Always..” Hearing the doctor’s voice and his words were starting to make him human again bit by bit. “I need you back, John. I want you back…”
There are words unsaid from Sherlock, but even himself didn’t know how to convey them all at the moment. It was like all of a sudden, things stopped working, his mind simply shut down and all he can do is feel John’s tight embrace.
And for once, for that excruciating one year…he was at peace.
The soldier rubs the detective’s bony back and lets his tears fall silently for several minutes, repeating Sherlock’s words over and over in his head.
“I’m not leaving.” He whispers again, still hugging the best friend he ever had. He can feel Sherlock relaxing and it eases the tension in John’s chest, tension that had built ever since that…day.
After several long moments, John lifts his head from Sherlock’s shoulder and ruffles the dark curls. “Is there anything to eat? I’m starving.” He whispers gently.
- DAMN INTELLIGENT
- VALUABLE AS HELL AND NOT THE LEAST BIT WORTHLESS
- SUPER FUCKING LOVED
- EXTREMELY GOD DAMN INTERESTING
- NOT TO MENTION A HOT PIECE OF ASS
(Text) Works for me. Where shall we go? -JW ((Sure thing! *pats back and hugs* nononononocries!))