beyond the gravestones (sherlock/johnlock fanfic)

Chapter 20

John woke up and blearily rubbed his eyes. It was clearly still the dead of night, and he was about to go back to sleep when he noticed Sherlock curled up on the far edge of the bed, still wrapped in his dressing gown.

"Sherlock."

Sherlock turned and blinked at him, and the stoic mask had disintegrated into something more vulnerable, a soft expression that made John's heart ache.

"You've got to be freezing. Come here."

"I'm fine."

"You can't fool me."

"I wouldn't bet on it." Sherlock said, but when John opened his arms, he didn't hesitate to go into them. John brought one arm up around him and kissed his forehead, stroking soothing patterns into his back until he felt Sherlock relax a little. This was the drill. Wake up from a nightmare, comfort each other, go back to sleep. Except John wasn't sure Sherlock had gone to sleep in the first place.

"You can't blame yourself for the Garrideb brothers' deaths." he said softly, pushing Sherlock's curls back from his face.

"Everything in there was about me." Sherlock said, both annoyed and grateful that John could practically read his mind. "All those deaths - "

"No." John said swiftly. "She's the one who pulled the trigger, cut the rope, whatever. Not you."

"Yes, but if I had just - "

John stopped his lips with a kiss. "No buts." he said firmly. "I don't care how neglected or isolated she felt, and I won't let her make you doubt yourself. You didn't kill anyone."

"You're right. Of course, you're right, logically I didn't. But Eurus - I promised her I'd bring her home. I went back on my word, didn't I?"

"You can't possibly bring her home. She knows that, too. You've already seen what she can do. Er - " John hesitated. "Can she really control minds? Reprogram people, as Mycroft keeps saying?"

Sherlock scoffed derisively. "No. Mycroft just likes being overdramatic. She influences people to a very high extent, absolutely, but mind control? This is real life, not a science fiction movie."

"Then how did she - "

"I don't know." Sherlock said. He sat up, agitated, and pulled John's blanket tightly around himself. "I don't like not knowing."

"Maybe it'd help if you talked to her. I'll come with you."

Sherlock stared at him, completely taken aback.

"You'd come with me? But Sherrinford - the - you hate it."

"I know. But if you need me, I can put that aside."

"I don't understand why you would do that."

"Don't you?" John said, sitting up to face him. "It's a funny little thing called sentiment."

"Thank you."

"Sherlock, it's fine. You're not supposed to thank me for stuff like this."

"What did I ever do to deserve you?" he asked, pulling John into a hug. John paused for a moment, surprised at the sudden show of affection, but then squeezed Sherlock so tightly that for a moment he almost couldn't breathe.

"Just - everything, Sherlock. You deserve to be loved. You are...hell, I don't know, the best man I know. I should be asking myself what I've done to deserve you."

"I love you." Sherlock said.

John pulled away, searching his eyes. "You've never said that before. It's always 'I'm in love with you', or - "