Organised Chaos - Sherlock x Reader

LXII • 62

A/N: In which Sherlock becomes more human than ever. I hope my version of him can be relatable and an inspiration.

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I stayed there even after he fell asleep. I couldn't go home, and I had no where else to go. I didn't know very many people in Ireland, and besides, I wanted to make sure he wouldn't try to leave on his own or do anything else stupid that he might in my absence.
It had gotten to be late and I had just begun nodding off when my phone rang.
I picked it up and looked at the caller I.D.
It was mum. She probably just wanted to know when I'd be home.
"Yeah?" I answered, groggily.
"John, she's waking up." Her voice was laced with urgency and excitement.
"Holy.." I ran my hand over my face and jumped up.
I glanced down at Sherlock. He'd woken up, and he was watching me, and from the look on his face I knew that he knew.
He nodded, as though he could hear the debate that was going on in my head.
I had to go see you.
But I couldn't leave him.
But you'd been asleep for so long, I needed to see you.
But he'd been shot.
But you'd want to see me too.
But he'd do something stupid.

"Go, John. Go see her." He said, quietly.
I knew I had uncertainty on my face as I glanced toward him and then returned my attention to my mother's frantic voice on the other end of the line.
"John, are you coming home?"
I glanced once more at Sherlock. He gave me a weak smile and nodded toward the door. "I'm fine." He said again, and yet this time it wasn't in denial of his injuries, but rather the humility I'd prescribed him. He was willing to let me go even when he couldn't.
"Yeah I'll be there as soon as I can. Bye." I responded, and ended the call. "Thank you." I looked to Sherlock. "Don't do anything stupid, please." I said, with a half smile.
He grinned. "I haven't many options here."
I smiled again. "Come home as soon as you can. I know you want to see her."
"I do, but John, don't tell her. Please."
I wasn't entirely shocked.
"I don't want her to see me like this."

I knew he'd take care of himself now.

I nodded. "Okay Sherlock. But please, come back soon. It was so hard to lie to her this whole time."
He looked sad. "I know, I'm sorry. But I just wanted to make sure everything was safe first- apparently it wasn't." He looked down.
He blamed himself. He blamed himself for everything that had happened.
He blamed himself for Moriarty, for having to leave, for the pain he'd caused both of us in doing so, for Sebastian, for the poisoning, for the shooting... I didn't know if I'd ever get through to him that it wasn't all his fault. That he was the only one still blaming himself.
I sighed. "Goodbye Sherlock."

Sherlock's POV:

I sighed heavily as soon as John left, then regretted it immediately. The pain that shot through my body caused directly by the act of exhaling deeply was excruciating.
For a moment I wished I'd just died and I wouldn't have to deal with the physical pain of the wound or the emotional pain of everything that had happened.
And now you were waking up and I still couldn't tell you.
I knew that was ridiculous, but sometimes the depression got the better of me.
I glanced at my morphine tab. I contemplated turning it off. Perhaps I needed more pain until I learned to stop inserting myself into other people's lives and ruining them.
No.
No, you'd think that unacceptable.
Pain was not the cure for these harmful thoughts. I needed good memories to crowd out the depression.
I shut my eyes and thought of everything good about you, all the good times I'd had with John.
I had an entire file full of these good memories stored away for times like this.
When I'd run out of everything I'd stored up, I thought of seeing you again, seeing you awake and healthy. You'd probably hate me, but that didn't matter. I just wanted you to be happy.
I thought about John getting to see you again, and how happy you'd be to see him.
He'd probably be getting there about now.

John's POV:

I stepped into the lift, my excitement boiling over. It had been so long.
Well,
it had only been a week, half of which I'd spent in prison, but so much had happened in that week that it felt like eternity.
I knew I was lucky. Some people have to wait months or longer before they get their loved ones back from a coma. Some never get them back.
I hurried down the hall now, and I rushed into your room as soon as I found it.
Mum and dad were sitting by the bed, MacKenzie was chewing her nails in a corner chair.
"How is she?" I asked, out of breath.
"Don't you mean, 'How are you?'" I heard your voice, quiet but entirely audible.
"Oh my God, (F/N)." I rushed toward your bed and I saw you, awake for the first time in what felt like forever. You smiled weakly. "Hello John."