He feels your tear fall onto his hand and he shifts so he can look at your face. He tilts your head up and his heart breaks for the fiftieth time in a week to see tears in your eyes.
"No matter what anyone has told you. No matter what you've been conditioned to believe - this is the truth, okay? You are the best man that I've ever known. The most human human being, not a machine or an object. And I love you. And I'm never leaving you or letting you be taken away from me again. Because this is where you belong. Right here, right now, with me. Safe. I'll kill anyone who tries to ruin that." He leans down to kiss your forehead before settling you again; "Sweet dreams, Zatarrah."
"No, no, no." He shakes his head, so resolute; "Not again. Never again, I promise. I know I've not done a good job of it so far but I'm going to protect you. Properly."
He pulls the quilt up more around your shoulders.
"But you need to trust me. You need to have faith that I can protect you. If you're ever scared or worried or you think someone is trying to get to you - you come to me. Straight away. And you tell me the truth. Is that understood?"
He tells you the truth. "Wasn't safe in the hospital. Not safe anywhere. Always there. Owner. Belong...not supposed to be on furniture, call you Sir...nothing...Zero...always Zero. Worthless Zero..."
He caresses your cheek; "You're not in the hospital anymore. You're here and you're safe. Your owner...Moriarty, he's not your owner, nobody is your owner. You own you. And you can sit on whatever furniture you want. You're not a pet. And you call me John like you always have. Last but not least, your name is Sherlock Holmes and you are the complete opposite of worthless. Are we clear?"
He's been captured and broken too many times to believe you now. But at least he can still tell you. "Everytime I think I've gotten away he burns me. Not safe. Not ever, ever safe...burned til I passed out. Always there when I wake up...always... Can't sleep. Not safe."
He's not quite frantic, he's very, very still. Almost leans into the caress. Wanting, needing, the love - and yet so afraid to accept it.
He can't help but let his own tears fall. How he could have failed you this badly? After everything you did to save him. And Mrs. Hudson and Greg. How could we have let this happen to you?
He doesn't know what to say other than promises he's made a thousand times already.
All he can do is hold you tight, hoping that the embrace alone will be enough of a shield even though every rational part of his brain says it wouldn't be. He sniffs and shudders tiny sobs into your hair, one hand moving up your back and gripping your shoulder blade.
He whispers through his tears; "I'm sorry, Sherlock, I'm so sorry."
He grips your hand. He shouldn't have told you. "D-don't cry. Please don't.. It's-it's alright. One of these times he'll get careless and kill me. Or he'll burn out my last brain cell, and I won't feel anything else. Either will do. Hope he kills me, so you don't have to s-see me..."
From his tone, it's clear a part of him wishes it's true.
You're just making him cry harder to the point he's practically bawling.
"Just shut up, Sherlock, just shut up, shut up, shut up," He whimpers between violent sobs as he squeezes you, kissing your head every now and then; "You can't d-die, do you hear? You can't ever die a-again. I can't do it a second time...You need t-to live. You need to WANT to live and n-not lose hope, ok? Because if you lose hope...if you give up then what am I gonna do? I'll end it Sherlock. Properly this time. If I lose you for good then nothing will hold me back, do you understand? So...fucking live. Live for me!"
"Shhh, shhh, it's okay. It's okay," He holds you in an iron tight grip; "He can't take you away. He's powerless. He can't do anything to you because he's not really here. It's just your mind messing with you and I know that doesn't make things any better but it means he can't take you away from me."
He holds your head to his chest; "Just relax. Close your eyes. Listen. You use your senses, unlike other people, remember? So trust what you're sensing now. What you're feeling, what you're hearing, what you smell. Right?...I'm here. It's just me and you...it'll always be me and you, always." He buries his lips in your hair; "Don't leave me, Sherlock, don't ever leave me alone again."
His breathing slowly quiets. It takes a long time, he has to force himself to inhale properly.
Somehow the words get through. "Can't ...can't last much longer. N-no ch-choice. Might be nothing...nothing left. Again. Just ...shell. Nothing... P-poor Sh-Sh-Sherlock. No- no more c-cases. Br-brain rots." His own name sounds so strange. As though he's forgotten it.
At last, exhaustion takes over his battered mind and he sleeps, clutching tightly to your jumper, straining to listen for your heartbeat even in sleep.
He doesn't loosen his grip even as you fall into sleep.
Your words keep going round and round in his head like spinning razorblades. He's terrified. He knows maybe he should be calling an ambulance. You might have an aneuryism. Or a tumour. They might have fried your brain to the point it can't repair itself and just keeps dying off.
He let's that horrific thought overwhelm him. No matter what is happening he can't bring himself to let you go. Not even to reach his mobile and dial 999. He can't call for Mrs. Hudson. All he can do is lay there. Because if these are your last moments then he's not leaving you alone for the world.
And it won't be too long until he joins you, wherever it is you go.
Somehow either the exhaustion or the fear itself causes him to pass out, head rolling against yours, arms still not loosening.
His mind lets him rest, lets his brain slowly piece what it can back together. Without nightmares. The cells can't focus to repair with blood rushing through at such a frantic rate when his heartbeat increases.
He sleeps, his brain shuts off mostly the audio, the cells aware that the audio is his greatest trigger. Shuts off all noise other than the steady heartbeat that isn't his, the voice that isn't his. The mumbles in sleep.
[[ooc: up to you if he has a good deep sleep or goes into a coma where he can only hear John's voice.]]
He's surprised when he wakes up to the sound of birdsong. It had been a while since he'd been able to sleep through an entire night and they had crashed rather early. John stretched himself slightly before feeling your weight against him. He puts his fingers to your neck to check your pulse. To make sure you didn't leave him in the night.
Steady, a little weak but steady enough.
He continues to lie there for however long, his stomach rumbling for breakfast which he can't make because he can't leave you, until you open your eyes.
[[ooc: Shall we say for now he just slept. Though maybe his mind is still a bit damaged while it's repairing. IDK maybe he's a bit more happy but simple like a child or he keeps seeing things or a bit of amnesia; you decide. :P If we want we can change it]]
He mumbles with a somewhat contented noise as his brain carefully begins to switch on.
The heartbeat is still there. He puts his hand close to it, with what sounds like a happy mumble. Snuggling deeper against your chest because he doesn't want to wake up just yet.
Not there. Not a dream. If it had been, his Owner would have come for him during the night.
And he hadn't. Suddenly his stomach growls and his eyes blink open.
"Hungry," he murmurs. "Slept well. No nightmares."
It was strange. Like waking up after he was unconscious, but he didn't feel as sore. True, his skin still felt prickly and he still felt as though he didn't want to move.
"Pancakes," he says, huddling further under the covers. It's a little chilly in the flat since the fire went out hours ago. He would say 'chocolate chip' but - he's probably had enough chocolate for sometime.
He knows what your favorites are so you end up getting one that's chocolate chip and another that drizzled with honey. He makes a mental note to book you a dentist appointment sometime soon. John doesn't care as long as you are eating and it makes you happy.
He brings it over on a tray for you so you don't have to get up out of the covers, puts it on your lap as you sit up a bit.
He's reading the paper and notices you're done. He takes your plate and goes to wash it up before coming back.
"Right. Anything you want to do today?" He says, sitting on the coffee table; "If you're still feeling poorly you can just lie on the sofa all day watching daytime TV. Unless it would be too boring. We could...play Cluedo- no, wait, forget I said that." He stops himself, remembering the last time with a shudder.
(no subject)-noangel_nothero-Apr. 8th, 2012 03:17 pm (UTC)-ExpandError running style: Died in S2::run_code running EntryPage::print(): Excessive recursion detected and stopped.
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You are filth.
You are nothing.
You are stupid.
Everyone hates you.
Why would anybody love you?
A tear leaks out of his eye. Can't cry. Not supposed to cry. He doesn't feel amazing or fantastic or brilliant. He doesn't feel like Sherlock.
But he feels loved. And that, for now, is enough. He clutches your hand, bringing it to his lips. Because he can't speak right now.
"No matter what anyone has told you. No matter what you've been conditioned to believe - this is the truth, okay? You are the best man that I've ever known. The most human human being, not a machine or an object. And I love you. And I'm never leaving you or letting you be taken away from me again. Because this is where you belong. Right here, right now, with me. Safe. I'll kill anyone who tries to ruin that." He leans down to kiss your forehead before settling you again; "Sweet dreams, Zatarrah."
Edited at 2012-04-07 04:02 am (UTC)
There's no reason for me to hope. I can't. His eyes might tell you that much.
Edited at 2012-04-07 04:08 am (UTC)
He pulls the quilt up more around your shoulders.
"But you need to trust me. You need to have faith that I can protect you. If you're ever scared or worried or you think someone is trying to get to you - you come to me. Straight away. And you tell me the truth. Is that understood?"
He's not quite frantic, he's very, very still. Almost leans into the caress. Wanting, needing, the love - and yet so afraid to accept it.
He doesn't know what to say other than promises he's made a thousand times already.
All he can do is hold you tight, hoping that the embrace alone will be enough of a shield even though every rational part of his brain says it wouldn't be. He sniffs and shudders tiny sobs into your hair, one hand moving up your back and gripping your shoulder blade.
He whispers through his tears; "I'm sorry, Sherlock, I'm so sorry."
From his tone, it's clear a part of him wishes it's true.
"Just shut up, Sherlock, just shut up, shut up, shut up," He whimpers between violent sobs as he squeezes you, kissing your head every now and then; "You can't d-die, do you hear? You can't ever die a-again. I can't do it a second time...You need t-to live. You need to WANT to live and n-not lose hope, ok? Because if you lose hope...if you give up then what am I gonna do? I'll end it Sherlock. Properly this time. If I lose you for good then nothing will hold me back, do you understand? So...fucking live. Live for me!"
You can tell, he tenses. Begins to tremble a little.
"H-hurts...so m-m-much. Can't leave. C-c-c-can't st-stay. W-want to st-stay, J-john. Want t-t-to f-forget. C-can't f-forget. H-hurts...b-burns...j-just...m-make i-it st-stop. M-make hi-him st-stop."
He sees only what he can - you can't see it.
Even if you are holding to him, protecting him.
He points at his Owner.
"Ple-please d-don't t-take m-me aw-away. Pl-please. Don't l-let him t-take y-you away...I'll -I'll be g-g-good. I - I swear."
"Shhh, shhh, it's okay. It's okay," He holds you in an iron tight grip; "He can't take you away. He's powerless. He can't do anything to you because he's not really here. It's just your mind messing with you and I know that doesn't make things any better but it means he can't take you away from me."
He holds your head to his chest; "Just relax. Close your eyes. Listen. You use your senses, unlike other people, remember? So trust what you're sensing now. What you're feeling, what you're hearing, what you smell. Right?...I'm here. It's just me and you...it'll always be me and you, always." He buries his lips in your hair; "Don't leave me, Sherlock, don't ever leave me alone again."
So alone. Owe you so much.
Somehow the words get through. "Can't ...can't last much longer. N-no ch-choice. Might be nothing...nothing left. Again. Just ...shell. Nothing... P-poor Sh-Sh-Sherlock. No- no more c-cases. Br-brain rots." His own name sounds so strange. As though he's forgotten it.
At last, exhaustion takes over his battered mind and he sleeps, clutching tightly to your jumper, straining to listen for your heartbeat even in sleep.
Your words keep going round and round in his head like spinning razorblades. He's terrified. He knows maybe he should be calling an ambulance. You might have an aneuryism. Or a tumour. They might have fried your brain to the point it can't repair itself and just keeps dying off.
He let's that horrific thought overwhelm him. No matter what is happening he can't bring himself to let you go. Not even to reach his mobile and dial 999. He can't call for Mrs. Hudson. All he can do is lay there. Because if these are your last moments then he's not leaving you alone for the world.
And it won't be too long until he joins you, wherever it is you go.
Somehow either the exhaustion or the fear itself causes him to pass out, head rolling against yours, arms still not loosening.
He sleeps, his brain shuts off mostly the audio, the cells aware that the audio is his greatest trigger. Shuts off all noise other than the steady heartbeat that isn't his, the voice that isn't his. The mumbles in sleep.
[[ooc: up to you if he has a good deep sleep or goes into a coma where he can only hear John's voice.]]
Steady, a little weak but steady enough.
He continues to lie there for however long, his stomach rumbling for breakfast which he can't make because he can't leave you, until you open your eyes.
[[ooc: Shall we say for now he just slept. Though maybe his mind is still a bit damaged while it's repairing. IDK maybe he's a bit more happy but simple like a child or he keeps seeing things or a bit of amnesia; you decide. :P If we want we can change it]]
Edited at 2012-04-07 10:28 am (UTC)
The heartbeat is still there. He puts his hand close to it, with what sounds like a happy mumble. Snuggling deeper against your chest because he doesn't want to wake up just yet.
Not there. Not a dream.
If it had been, his Owner would have come for him during the night.
And he hadn't.
Suddenly his stomach growls and his eyes blink open.
"Good morning." he says as brightly as he can manage; "How are we feeling today?"
It was strange. Like waking up after he was unconscious, but he didn't feel as sore. True, his skin still felt prickly and he still felt as though he didn't want to move.
But he didn't feel as panicky.
As much as he hates to, John carefully wriggles out from under you and gets off the sofa. He tucks you in again and as soon as he's up.
"You just lie there for as long as you want. I'll go make you some breakfast. What do you fancy?" He says sweetly; "Fry-up? Cereal? Pancakes?"
And he shouldn't overindulge.
Why was that? He couldn't remember.
He knows what your favorites are so you end up getting one that's chocolate chip and another that drizzled with honey. He makes a mental note to book you a dentist appointment sometime soon. John doesn't care as long as you are eating and it makes you happy.
He brings it over on a tray for you so you don't have to get up out of the covers, puts it on your lap as you sit up a bit.
As though waiting for you to tell him what's next.
"Right. Anything you want to do today?" He says, sitting on the coffee table; "If you're still feeling poorly you can just lie on the sofa all day watching daytime TV. Unless it would be too boring. We could...play Cluedo- no, wait, forget I said that." He stops himself, remembering the last time with a shudder.
His head begins to hurt and he rubs his temples a little. He doesn't care what he does, as long as you're there.
As long as Owner doesn't come for him. Yet.
[[ooc: THAT VID IS MADE OF AWESOME :D :D :D and what fic are you talking about? Links, links, links!]]