Data Doesn't Lie (Johnlock)

Chapter 7

JOHN

The cheerful chirp of morning birds woke me from my restless sleep. I released a groggy moan, not wanting to get up from the silent comfort of my bed. But today was a work day, and we needed the money.

I uncomfortably swung my legs sideways over the edge of the bed, rubbing my eyes with exhaustion. I hadn't got much sleep last night, the nightmares just kept coming one after the other. I couldn't sleep, I didn't want to. I didn't want a lot of things.

Forcing myself into a sitting position, I eyed my bedroom wearily. Everything looked the same, but it didn't fool me. Nothing was the same anymore...nothing.

I showered, cleaned myself up, but I couldn't wash away my bitterness. It showed too easily on my tired face. I decided I didn't want to look in the mirror anymore, settling for my awful appearance and dressing for work.

I thought to make my departure quick, simple, and effortless, but something stopped me. I knew that if I left the flat so soon something horrible would happen. I didn't doubt it after what had happened last night, but what could it be? I turned on my heels just as I was going to walk out. Not quite sure why I couldn't leave, I checked the time on my mobile. Sure, I would have been an hour or so early but what was the harm? So I lay unthinking waiting for the feeling to just go away. Without anything else to do, I rose shakily from my seat on the couch. It felt so odd to sit there without Sherlock's legs on my knees or without his yelling or occasional grumble. Maybe that was what I felt. Shaking my head and regretting every life decision, I made my way to Sherlock's room. Memory hit me like a brick wall to the face, and I faltered.

"A mistake..it won't be repeated."

The words still hung fresh in the air like new wounds, untended to and uncared for. Hesitantly, I knocked on his door. It was odd, I was never up before he was. Everything looked the same, but felt so out of place. My head swam with what it could be. Sherlock didn't answer. I called for him, knocking again, harder this time. "Sherlock?" I called, growing impatient after a few minutes and checking the time once more. I grimaced, muttering curses to myself and trying the door.

Of course it was locked, I guess you could say it was Sher-locked. I laughed at my own little joke. "Sherlock? If you don't answer I'm coming in anyway." I wasn't sure how, but the longer I stood here the greater the dread I felt. "Sherlock?" I called again, my voice quivering slightly with nervousness. "Sher...?" I got fed up, trying the door with more aggression than necessary. I heard a loud clink on the opposite side of the door, and was fairly sure I'd just broken the lock. I sighed, knowing I'd have to replace it at some point. At least now I could get in.

I opened the door hesitantly, peering about the dark space. I'd never been in Sherlock's room, but automatically it gave off that Sherlock-y feel and smell. It was oddly and irritably soothing. Unfortunately, it did not press down my worried trance. "Hey Sherlock?" I called, for he was not in his bed. The curtains were drawn tight, his clothes strewn about like a tornado had swept the room. His bathroom door ended the trail, shut tight. I tried it, and surprisingly enough it was unlocked. "Are you alri-." My voice cut off, as what I saw before me was enough to make me gag.

Sherlock sat up, apparently unconscious, at an awkward but unbroken angle. His eyes were closed, his face sweaty and hair plastered to his head. The last thing I noticed was the blood. Leaking relentlessly from his wrists, pooling around him on the marble bathroom floor. I choked, a gasp-like sob escaping my throat.

I rushed to him, stumbling when taking his pulse. I couldn't think, my words jumbled and twisted, it was as if I couldn't breathe. Somehow I got over my initial shock, steadying my hand.Still breathing. As a doctor, I was as calm as I could be while wrapping the wounds and settling the unconscious Sherlock into his bed. Only when he was secure did I allow my mind to wander without panic.
SHERLOCK

I'd been awake for at least an hour now, but I kept that to myself. I peered carefully through my lashes up at John. He was reading the paper, but wasn't really paying attention. It was merely a distraction, most likely to keep him from strangling me. I almost laughed at this notion. Almost.

At first, I couldn't recall why I was in bed or why John was looming everlescent over me like I was an injured kitten. Memory flooded my mind like untamed river waters, bringing sharp pains in my chest as I recalled my own words and actions. This was the first time in years I'd harmed myself. John must have stitched me up.

My doctor was good to me, even if I was a stubborn, difficult prat. It warmed me to think so, and with the cold of the winter air and my heatless bedroom, I allowed it.

Silently, discreetly, I watched my blogger stress over my health, occasionally changing bandages and feeling my head. I shied not from his touch, secretly enjoying all the attention.

Perhaps, if I had known he cared so much, I wouldn't have cut. But of course he cared, he was my friend. For a moment I was content with his friendship alone, but I knew it wouldn't last. I knew soon I would feel the same urges I had in the living room and at the park. I'd want to kiss him, to tell him I was sorry and that I loved him so much. I couldn't keep this act up much longer, and for a moment, it scared the shit out of me.

JOHN

I called off work, I had to stay by him. I let myself get angry after an hours time.

Why? Why the hell would he take a blade to his own skin?

I thought back to last night's conversation, staring down at the detective's thin, pale, beautiful face. Was it possible that he'd done this out of regret or shame? I didn't know, and it racked my nerves violently. Whenever I felt I wanted to shake him awake and scream in his face for trying to leave me, I would concentrate on his face. His sharp cheekbones, his long curled lashes and cupids-bow lips. In sleep, he looked so rested, innocent, and human. I could stare at this man for hours.

So there I sat, unsure of what to do with myself. Soon, around eleven or so, Sherlock's eyes fluttered open just as I returned to his room with tea and a book, which I'd left to get for boredom's sake. At first I didn't know he was awake, until I felt the icy stare of those green-blue orbs on me. It was almost funny; I'd spent all day organizing what I was going to say to this arse when he woke, but now as I stared into those beautiful intelligent eyes, I couldn't think of a word to say.

Eek, sorry this chapter was so crappy, but I had to update before the internet cut out again. I know my johnlock progress is slow but I.love to add detail. Im thinking about doing some destiel oneshots as well if thats what you guys are into because destiel is life. Be sure to rate, comment, and inbox me if you like. I hope you guys like this craptastic chapter and thank you so much for reading. Teetee a fen, tata for now!
~Shay