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Dust particles floating about. A stream of sunlight from the sunset dancing upon John's chair. The scent of freshly poured vanilla coffee. Soft sock-feet footsteps landing delicately on the wooden floor each second.
"Sherlock."
A familiar voice. Stern yet, with an elegant balance. Sound waves bouncing off each corner of the room. The familiar stretch of silence follows after, but does not remain for long.
"Sherlock."
Repetition. The same stern and elegant repetition. The voice calling to him is hungry for answers. And worried. Oh yes, the voice is worried.
"Please, just. Open your eyes for a moment Sherlock, can you do that?" The voice asked. It was John of course. It always was. Sherlock's eyelids fluttered open softly, like a child's would when woken from a quiet slumber.
"Yes, John?" He answered with the same tone he had always put on his voice. A mask. A disguise. A cheap trick to fool the rest of the world, of course. A game.
The smaller male was hesitant. He pursed his lips, fingers changing swiftly to a white tone from clenching his mug with both hands.
"Just, tell me. Tell me why.. you keep retreating. Hiding. Locking yourself in that palace of yours away from the world." He spewed out, practically a slur. The detective was not put off by the question, in fact he expected it.
"I am not avoiding you, John. I'm simply-"
"No, no. Don't.. no. Stop making excuses for this, Sherlock. I can understand the retreating when on cases but this.. it's constant now. Have I done something? Because if I have, bloody hell, just tell me!" He blurted out, his mug now placed on the table beside Sherlock. The brunette looked up, a slightly confused expression painted across his features. His brow furrowed as he opened his mouth.
"John I.. I'm not in there that often. And the cause is nothing that you have done." He stated, shifting on the chair so that he faced John completely. The smaller male huffed out air before a pained look crossed his face.
"I.. just want to be able to help you. To be here for you. I thought I saved you from your cravings and bad days. I thought I was someone you could love, and trust." He muttered, looking over at the bullet holes pierced through the wall. Taking a breath, he shook his head. "I know this.. this all sounds like desperation but Sherlock, I actually care about you. And I believe we've established that I actually love you as well." He added, eyes fixed firmly on the brunette. He reached out to hold onto the mantle above the fireplace, absentmindedly letting his limp creep back into existence.
Abruptly the taller man stood up. John only had one moment to draw in a breath before his world was darkened by soft fabric. Blinded by Sherlock's embrace. Shocked and unable to pull away, John carefully eased into the gesture, his limp falling from his mind.
"Sherlock-" He began, but was silenced immediately.
"No, John. No. I am a ridiculous man. Ridiculous may not even fulfill the description of what I am. But my dear doctor, you, you are what keeps me right." He paused, glancing at the pure confusion yet adoration in John's eyes. "I have realized my absence lately." Another breath of silence. Another short eternity. "I apologize for all the hurt that I've caused you these past few weeks." He finished off, his words foreign to John's ears. It was rare that Sherlock connected deeply with others, but with John, it felt right.
John shook his head awkwardly, brushing off the apology with apologies with his own. He was silenced again.
"Do not apologize, my dearest. You are not in the wrong. It's just, this bond we have, I've never experienced it before. I need you to teach me, John. If you will." He finished. Deep blue eyes filled with oceans met eyes filled with the grey of nighttime. "I want to love you, but I don't know how." The detective admitted, but kept a firm grasp on the smaller male as if he would disappear if released.
A small smile appeared on John's lips as he pulled Sherlock in for another embrace. Though this time it was filled with a stronger love than before. A saved love. A pure love.
"You bloody bastard, don't speak poetically like that. You know how to love. You just love in a different way." John said, pulling away only slightly to peer up at Sherlock again. His smile grew, and his worries had diminished.
The brunette smirked back, hands caressing John's sides with ease.
"Well, in that case.. dinner?" Sherlock questioned, his smile only growing. He rubbed his thumbs against the doctor's sides, holding the one who had truly saved him from the darkness.
John reached up, pulling Sherlock's face down so that their noses collided softly. "Starving." He responded, his eyes shut with a mischievous smirk across his lips.