Selfless | Sherlock

Anguish

Sherlock had brought me home and called for John as soon as we arrived at their flat. The doctor appeared shortly after, wide eyed and breathing a bit heavy. As I rested on the couch, my vision faded in and out. John shook his head and rushed over just as I allowed exhaustion to overtake me.

When I woke, it was to the sound of my cell phone ringing obnoxiously. My head already pounding, I answered it with my eyes closed just as I heard the door to Sherlock's room slam shut.

"Abigail," Sam's tired voice greeted.

With a groan, I responded dryly.

"What is it?"

"Dean and Cas. They're gone," he informed, voice cracking painfully.

My breath caught in my throat, and the phone began to slip from my aching fingers. The rest of the flat was silent, its occupants unaware of the current predicament.

"How?" I choked out, trying to be as quiet as possible.

"Leviathan. Bobby is dead too, Crowley took the prophet of the lord, remember Kevin?"

"Yes. If you ever need a place to stay, I have a flat here in London. Keep in touch Sammy."

With that I gave a shaky goodbye before hanging up and letting the device to drop from my loose grip and only the floor. As I turned to face the room once more, my gaze fell upon a familiar lean figure who's blue eyes bore into my own intently.

"How long was I out?" I asked, unable to keep the anguish out of my tone despite my best attempts.

"Long enough. About two days now. The bomb went off," Sherlock responded, gesturing to the television which played the news of 12 dead in another supposed gas leak.

"What happened?" I questioned.

"He gave me another case. I solved it but this time his hostage was a blind woman. She began to describe his voice to me before I could stop her," he responded apathetically before returning his gaze to the wall.

I nodded curtly before allowing Dean and Cas to come to mind. Almost immediately, my body was wracked with silent sobs as I cried into my sleeve. The pounding in my head only increased over time, so I dried my puffy eyes for the time being and went to stand.

"Don't" Sherlock warned, walking over and arriving at my side just as I got dizzy.

"It wasn't your fault by the way," I said shakily, referring to the woman he had not managed to save.

"John doesn't seem to see it that way," Sherlock snorted, holding me up by my arm and looking down at me questioningly.

"Why are you crying?" he questioned.

The temperature of the room felt as though it dropped a few degrees with his question, and the lights seemed to only intensify.

"It's nothing. I'm more interested in what you were thinking about yesterday, in the cab?"

A sigh fell from the detective's lips and he ran a hand through his unruly mess of hair. Instead of responding, he picked me up gently and brought us to his room. I felt myself lowered carefully onto the bed and my eyes quickly adjusted to the lack of light, my head much preferring the darkness.

"I'm sorry for whatever I said to upset you, Sherlock," I murmured drearily, my heart still racing with the thought that my friends had so recently passed away.

"Don't. You uhm... It's just that, well, you deserve better. This entire situation is new to me, and it is not in my nature to be as... affectionate, as you deserve. I do not yet understand these emotions now that I am the one experiencing them... at least I think I am. It's not just sentiment, and you are never going to be safe within miles of me. I cannot tell if you are happy with me or..." he stuttered, trailing off at the end and gripping his hair tightly as he struggled to convey his message.

My eyes narrowed at the sight of the detective, and my hand reached up to grip his wrist and gently remove it from the hair he was tugging on mercilessly. A small smile graced my lips, but it did not reach my eyes. My mind was still elsewhere, and it was difficult to keep it occupied with the task at hand.

"If you're ever feeling unsure, you can always just ask. If anything is wrong you can just bring it up," I said quietly, stroking his hair lightly where he had been previously pulling.

A low hum emanated from the detectives chest as he lifted me up so that my body rested against him. My head fell on his shoulder, and my eyes closed as I breathed in his scent. It was then that memories of Cas, as well as Dean crossed my mind yet again.

"What happened to make you so upset?" Sherlock questioned once again, stroking the top of my head lightly as tears fell from my eyes yet again.

"Dean and Cas are dead," I groaned, shuddering as the words left my lips.

The statement made the news all to real, leaving me feeling cold despite the warmth of the detective against me. I felt him tense up as I cried, and struggled to control myself. Finally, his baritone voice broke the silence.

"I don't... I don't know what to-" he trailed off sadly.

With a shake of my head, I brought him as close to me as possible before slowly lowering myself. The detective allowed me to pull him down with him and shifted so that he was on his back and I laid above him, my head on his chest.

"You don't have to say anything. Please, just stay," my voice broke, the memory of the older Winchester's bright green eyes ripping through my mind and leaving my heart shredded and torn.

"Alright," Sherlock agreed, tentatively resting his hand on my back as I glanced up at him to ensure he was comfortable.

"Is this ok?" I asked softly.

"Of course," he replied, using his free hand to push my face against his neck and allowing my to nuzzle against it as he rested his chin on my head.

The memory of the blue eyed, selfless angel and the brave man I saw as my brother haunted me constantly. The pain did not fade and instead increased in intensity as time went on. Shouts of emotional anguish left my lips and my sobs were nearly unending throughout the night. Guilt in regards to the fact that I had left the Winchesters so long ago and was not there to ensure the safety of the so-called "Team Free Will" only amplified my pain. Despite the heartbreaking sobs ripping their way through my throat, and the shouts that left my lips whenever I came close to sleep, the detective stayed with me, his hand never ceasing its comforting motion.

When my throat was finally too swollen to release any more noise and my teary eyes had finally run dry, I was able to hear soft humming emanating from the man below me. The ghost of a smile crossed my raw face as I adjusted so that I could better breathe. The detective continued to hum as he carefully sat us up to remove his tear stained robe, fortunately having worn pants under for once. My breathing began to steady as he lowered back down into the mattress and held me against his chest. The pain was far from gone and my mind continued to race, but the low, melodic tune coming from the man slowly lured me into a quiet sleep.