Work Text:
Sherlock lay practically frozen on the couch where he had been for the past few hours. To an outsiders point of view he’d look dead and his concerned blogger was almost starting to think he was.
Sherlock stares at the ceiling, his eyes unseeing to the cracks of the building. His brain was muddled, his thought process slowled and stuck with grime. Oil sweeping through his thoughts and corrupting everything.
Unstable. Druggy. Machine. Freak.
He was starting to believe the track stuck in his head. Poisonous words play like a broken record over and over as he fell deeper into despair.
He was to put it simply, depressed for a reason he couldn’t figure out.
John watches from the sidelines as Sherlock stays unmoving for yet another hour of the day. Things had been so incredibly slow at the yard and usually by this point Sherlock would be blowing something up or shooting at the walls, declaring his boredom. For some reason he wasn’t moving at all, not even making a sound to complain about the lack of cases. It unnerved John and he was becoming increasingly worried.
John stood from his place in his chair and went to the kitchen to make more tea starting a cup for Sherlock as well. He glances behind him out into the living room, watching Sherlock in case he moves though he wasn’t expecting it, as he goes through the motions of making tea.
He didn’t understand what was wrong with his detective, he wasn’t sulking, he wasn’t angry or anything that John could tell. He was just laying there. At first John had figured he was going into what he deemed a ‘no case sulk’ but after an hour of not moving he ruled that out. Then he thought that he might have been in his mind palace but he never does so for such long periods, especially not moving so much as an inch and his hands weren’t poised at his lips like usual.
Every second that went by that Sherlock didn’t move but to blink only successfully freaked John out more and he’d had enough.
John moves back to the living room bringing their newly brewed tea and sets them on the coffee table. He sits on the edge of the couch lightly and when that doesn’t elicit a response form Sherlock he frowns.
“Sherlock?” John asks concerned placing a hand on his arm lightly looking into his unfocused eyes. When that got no response either he lifted his other hand to lay gently against his neck, checking his pulse and temperature at the same time.
John frowns when he finds that everything his normal besides Sherlock’s irregular heartbeat but irregular was normal for him. He moves his hand to Sherlock’s shoulder shaking him lightly and calling his name again.
Sherlock blinks quickly for a moment before looking over to John questionably. “What?” He mumbles quietly shifting slightly as his cramped form aches and squints his eyes like the lights were to bright.
“You’ve been laying here for almost six hours since this morning and haven’t moved at all. I’m worried.” John admits softly watching him curiously and concerned trying to figure out what was wrong.
“Oh..” Sherlock says faintly pulling himself up into a sitting position with a small groan. He hadn’t realized it had been so long too caught up in his self deprecating thoughts. He stretches quietly rolling his shoulder and craning his neck until it cracks relieving him of the ache.
John waits until he’s done stretching before taking the mug of tea and handing it over to him. He makes sure Sherlock has a grip on the cup first before taking up his own and moving back against the opposite arm to watching him intently.
Sherlock moved his legs out of the way for John criss crossing them so they’re out of the way. He sips his tea idly hardly able to think of an excuse to tell John past the muddle of his mind. He looked down into his cup at the liquid swirling around swiftly into a whirlpool like his thoughts, going round and round.
Something was definitely wrong John decided observing Sherlock closely like he was always told to do. There was definitely something off in his demeanor, something amiss and the look in his eyes was almost haunting. John wanted rid of it immediately.
“Sherlock.” John says softly putting his cup back on the coffee table and reaching over taking Sherlock’s gently from his hands and placing it down as well. He didn’t know what was going on with Sherlock but he knew he wasn’t going to let him go through it alone. “Come here.” He says holding out his arms.
Sherlock debates protesting a moment but he knew it wouldn’t matter and any half attempted objection would be met with a stern look from John -he knew already- so he’d save himself the trouble. He moves slowly his limbs still creaking uncomfortably and crawls across the single cushion between them falling into John’s arms. John wraps his arms around Sherlock placing a hand onto the back of his head, the other on his back rubbing circles lightly.
“What’s wrong?” John asks gently combing his fingers through Sherlock’s raven curls, holding him close.
“I don’t know.” Sherlock admits with some reluctance, nothing was physically wrong with him and yet his mind refused to cooperate.
“It’s okay. I’m right here for you.” John says soothingly, squeezing Sherlock gently to himself. Sherlock didn’t want John to ask questions because he couldn’t answer them but something about his tone must have done just that and John didn’t ask.
Sherlock burrows himself close to Johns chest closing his eyes and willing himself to relax into him. John is a solid, warm figure beneath him that helps calm his waves of thoughts as he listens to his steady heartbeat. His thoughts of self destruction were still there, ever present but now with John here they were manageable and dulled.
They would sit there together for a long while while before Sherlock finally found rest and when he woke up again some time later, things were better. He could think clearer and even though there would always be those lingering thoughts that was okay.
It was just a bad day and eventually with the soothing presence of one Dr. John Watson everything would be better again. John has that quality of making even the worst days so much better and Sherlock wouldn’t ever stop being grateful of that.