3 - johnlock [EDITING]

4

edited

the next night, john and i stared at eachother from our opposite chairs until the silence was overwhelming.
he licked him lips and shuffled his feet on the ground. "right. ok."

"well this is awkward." i felt no need to pretend that this all was completely normal. emotions are uncomfortable to talk about and i won't fake enjoying it. however, john must not feel the same.

"it's not my fault you're just... sitting there."

"it was your idea, dear."

he raised an eyebrow at my sarcastic comment. "sherlock and sarcasm? you really must be delicious."

i wish i had another snappy comeback to this, but i was really quite bored and john wasn't doing any better to fix it. "well, you start."

"that's not how it-"

"this was you silly idea, so bloody start now."

"what do i even 'start' with?"

i sighed. stupid. can't he just talk about something? or at least leave me alone. "have you had nightmares like this in the past?"

john scrunches up his brow, confusion rippling through his facial features. "yes, actually. um, when i was a kid and after i thought that you died."

"well, let's start with when you were a kid then."

"well, uh." he paused, giving me a weird look. "sherlock! do you think you can stop looking at me like that?"

"like what? what am i looking at you like?"

"like i'm some strange thing you need to figure out. just listen."

"not my forte." he knew this, and still. here he was getting angry.

"well bloody do it."

i didn't say anything, and just nodded in responce, sitting back in my chair.

he mirrored my movements. "thanks. so, well, my dad used to.. uh.. not be abusive, but he was always mad at me and harry. he would yell, and we'd be scared, then my mom would calm him down, and he would do something to make us forgive him. or, he'd try to make us forgive him. and then i'd get nightmares because he was always mad at harry for being, well, gay and-"

"what?"

john looked uncomfortable. he licked his lips again, then ran a hand through his hair. "well, i was worried."

normal me would push the matter. why would he be worried if it was just about harry and they still got the same amount of anger pushed upon them? why would that make a difference to him? but three am me is aware of emotions and.. feelings. so i let john be with his secrets.

"and i suppose when you 'died' it's obvious." he chuckled a bit.

"yes, it is."

"well, what about you?"

"what about me?" i hadn't been expecting this. what would i even say?

"well, i gave away one if my deepest secrets-"

"and now you want me to tell you one of mine."

"well, yes, kind of. sherlock, we've been every good friends for a long enough time, and i barely even know anything, you know, deep about you."

"when would this information come up?" the more i thought about it, this whole night was pointless.

"never mind, i just thought because, well, you are my best friend..." john looked a bit disappointed. this isn't what i wanted.

"i want to die." i blurted out.

now the thing is, normal me, wouldn't tell him anything. i'm regretting telling him anything right now, even though he doesn't mention it. but it's my business and it doesn't matter how close someone is to me, i don't need to share personal matters with them. but three am me doesn't think like that.

but, anyway, john's face was filled with shock and fear, but i didn't know why. i rolled my eyes. "don't worry, john. if i wanted to be dead, i would be by this point. i don't want to leave you, or my job, and enough people, for what some reason, rely on me, so dying would certainly have too much of an impact. but that doesn't stop me from wanting it."

john spluttered, having trouble forming words. "don't-why?-die"

"john, if your words are not going to make any sence, please don't speak."

he took a breath and formed a proper question. "why do you want to die?"

"i don't want to die. but i do. ugh, it's complicated. i want to stop being me, so thus making death the only option. but i like living, just not as me."

"but you surely love being as clever as you are, you have said it enough times."

"but no one else likes it."

"but you don't care what people think-"

"well of course i don't. but i do care when you don't like me."

i didn't mean to say that. it just kinda slipped out. see, this is why i don't like three am me. i feel too much, and say things which i regret. or just, do things that i regret. like this entire engagement. i shouldn't even be up, talking with john. i could easily pretend to be asleep and john would never know. but, for what some reason, three am me likes talking to john in the early morning, and that me is even more stubborn then normal me.

john is looking at me, slightly in awe. he must be very confused, because this is much nicer then i have ever been to him, verbally at least. "you care what i think about you?"

i shrugged. "yes, obviously. you are my.. best friend."

best friend. what a strange title. best? as in they are a friend that is the best at being a friend? yet, it really means that they are a friend that you are closest to. it really makes no sence, yet that's what i think john is to me. until these last few years, i'd never had a best friend. it's strange, when you gain one. it kind of gives you warmth, even through my cold heart.

"you know what? that might me one of the nicest things you've ever said to me."

i don't know how to respond to that, so i settle into silence, until john breaks it.

"so this is the deepest conversation we've ever had, and we've been friends for.. what, six years? longer?"

"john, i should inform you, that i don't give a damn about how long we've been friends. time is just a number. i've known lestrade for longer, yet i am much closer to you."

"fair enough, you barely even know his name."