Fic: No Matter (How much you've changed I'll still love you) 3/15
Title: No Matter (How much you've changed I'll still love you)
Author: Altezio
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Pairing: John/Sherlock w/ side pairings along the way
Rating: Pg-13 - NC-17
Chapters: 3/15
Chapter word count: 4,549
Disclaimer: I won nothing but the plot. I am just playing in the wonderfully provided sandbox with the wonderful characters.
Warnings: Post S2E3, mentions of drug use, mentions of abuse, swearing, eventual m/m relationship, sex, and slash. More warnings as the story goes along.
Summary: It had been five months since Sherlock had walked off the roof, and John was trying to move on with his life. But then he finds Sherlock laying nearly dead in the gutter on night, and takes him home. But Sherlock isn't the same, and its Johns job to find him again and bring him back.
Chapter Three
Progress comes in many shades
John figured this was progress. A week had passed since he had found Sherlock, and while there were some things that they hadn’t even started to scratch upon there were little things that helped the doctor know his attempts weren’t all in vain. It had taken a bit of coaxing, but John had finally convinced Sherlock to not stay in his room all day. While John sat in his regular chair, the paper in his hand and only half watching the telly, Sherlock was laying on the couch a blanket wrapped around his frail frame. Whenever John looked at him, he was reminded of a large cat. Sherlock’s eyes were half closed, and he was resting his chin on the back of one of his hand. He looked very comfortable where he was and it made John happy,
After the dream-that Sherlock still hadn’t told John about-Sherlock had seemed paranoid, and flighty. On a couple of occasions John thought he was going to walk into the room to find him gone. Luckily that never happened.
Today Mycroft was due over, and while John was excited at the reunion of the two, he was also rather scared. The Holmes boys butted heads on the best of days, and he couldn’t help but worry about it just a little. He glanced away from his paper to look down at his watch then back at Sherlock. Even though the younger man hadn’t physically moved any part of his body, John could tell he was ready to spring into action to save himself if he needed to. It pained him to know that while Sherlock was probably more comfortable around him than he was with anyone else; he still felt he had to protect himself from John.
“Sherlock,” he said softly. It took a moment before Shrelock looked in his direction but when their eye’s made contact he smiled over at him, “It’s okay. I was just going to see if you wanted something to eat?”
He thought about it for a moment before shaking his head, “No thank you John.” He said his low voice soft.
John nodded and stood. He was thirsty now and tea sounded very good right now. Plus Mycroft would be here any second and it was only being a good host if he had refreshments. Out of the corner of his eye John watched Sherlock as he went to the kitchen. He wished he would open up, and tell him what happened, but he knew there was no way he would tell him so soon…honestly he didn’t know if he would tell him at all, but he could hope. Mentally it would probably be healthier if he got it all out in the open, but he wasn’t going to push it unless it became absolutely necessary.
The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs alerted John of Mycrofts presence. Turning he walked out of the kitchen and went to greet the older Holmes, not failing to notice that ridged lines of Sherlocks body. He still had yet to move from his seemingly relaxed posture, but John knew better.
“Mycroft,” John said in way of greeting as the other man stepped into the room.
Mycroft gave a slight smile before looking over at Sherlock. He stared down at the younger man for a long moment before speaking, “So I see you’ve finally woken up.”
Sherlock shifted and looked up at his older brother, “As it would seem.”
John wanted to hit himself. What had he been thinking? Why had he let these two men in the same room, especially while Sherlock was still recovering! John was just about to say something when Mycroft kneeled down in front of his brother with the softest expression on his face John had ever seen on his face. John watched in amazement-and a little bit of jealousy-as the tension seemed to melt away from Sherlock’s posture.
“We were all worried about you baby brother,” he whispered softly.
Sherlock didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. If John could easily read what the younger man was trying to convey, then he was damn certain that Mycroft could. The older Holmes smiled and gently rubbed his brothers head, “Please don’t do that again.” He sighed pressing his lips to Sherlock’s brow. The two stayed like that for a few moment before Mycroft pulled away and looked over at John, “May I speak with you privately Mr. Watson?”
John blinked in mild surprise before leading him down the stairs. He glanced back worriedly but continued down the stairs, till they were out of the street. “Hurry, I don’t want to leave him alone.”
Mycroft smiled and sighed. “Don’t worry Mr. Watson. He’s not going anywhere.”
Furrowing his brows John asked, “What do you mean?”
The older Holmes waved a hand in a dismissive gesture, “Nothing, nothing.” He said, “Anyways I have something for you.” Reaching into his jacket pocket he pulled out a small folded envelope and handed it to John, “This should be enough for a while. “
John took the offered item and looked at it questioningly before looking up in confusion at Mycroft. The other man gave him an expectant look and gestured for him to open it. After a moment of hesitation John pulled the tape that held the envelope sealed and looked inside. It was a check. He looked from the check to Mycroft a few times before finally being able to speak again.
“What’s this?”
Mycroft smiled a thin, tight lipped smile, “I see now what Sherlock meant, by not seeing.” He commented offhandedly, “It’s a check dear John.”
“I know it’s a check,” John snapped defensively, “But what for?”
“A just question,” he laughed, “It’s for the care of my brother. It only seems right since you are taking care of him. And in doing so you are missing work. It is only right to compensate you for your lost wages.”
John shook his head. He didn’t want to look the gift horse in the mouth-or whatever the saying was-but how could he not especially in a situation such as this one. John looked back down at the check before speaking, “This is a lot more than my salary would have provided me.”
Another tight lipped smile, “Oh I know Mr. Watson. Call the rest…spending money.” Mycroft laughed to himself. “don’t spend it all in one place.” And then he was gone, heading back up to where his younger brother was. John stared at the check for a moment longer, before slipping it into his back pocket and heading back up the stairs.
-x-
Sherlock was going crazy and John could tell. After Mycroft had left John had gone back to watching the telly. Since Sherlock hadn’t really reached out towards him, he had taken to ignoring him and letting him relax and deal with the stress of the day. He didn’t know Sherlock’s mental state, but he knew he was fragile and dealing with today probably had taken a lot out of him.
He had honestly thought he would have fallen asleep, but when he looked over he saw the younger man sitting on the couch, his body curled in a tight ball, and his hands shaking. His body was pale, and sweat clung to his skin. John sighed softly and pushed himself into a standing position before walking over to him. “Sherlock?”
Sherlock jerked his head up and stared up at him his pupils blown so John could hardly see the pale blue grey of his eyes. He could see just how much Sherlock was shaking and it made John wish there was something he could do. “It hurts,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around his stomach.
“What hurts Shrelock?”
“Everything,”
John sighed. He couldn’t really do anything for him. At this point most of what he was experiencing was either phantom pains, or pain caused from the withdrawal. He had yet to go through all the symptoms that usually came from drug addiction, and in all honesty he was rather afraid of what would happen when he did. Reaching up he ran a hand through Sherlock’s hair. “I’m sorry Sherlock.”
“Please make it stop.” He whispered, “please.”
John had never heard Sherlock beg, and to he never wanted to hear it again. “Hold on,” he said, “I can get you something that will put you to sleep. That’s all I can do for you.”
Sherlock nodded, “Please,”
Standing John walked out of the room and ran up the stairs and into his room. It took him a moment of searching, but finally he found what he was looking for in a small vial. Popping it open he poured out two pills and hurried back downstairs. “Here,” he said handing Sherlock the pills.
Sherlock took them and tried to relax into the couch. John watched as Sherlock’s body went from ridged from pain, to more relaxed. John smiled softly and rubbed Sherlock’s head, “That should help a bit.” He said. It wouldn’t put him to sleep, but it would make him not all there. He watched as Sherlock’s eyes slowly started to droop before leaning back. “Do you feel better?”
Sherlock nodded, “Yes,” he whispered, “thank you John.”
“Don’t mention it Sherlock.”
Sherlock was quiet for a long moment, “Most people wouldn’t be as kind as you are.”
John blinked surprised at Sherlock actually talking, “W-what?”
The younger man rubbed his face against the couch cushion, “I mean if it were anyone else…they would have left me there to die without even caring. “
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes I do John.” He sighed, “People have told me…and who would really take care of an addicted former consulting detective that has been shown as nothing more than a fraud.”
“Well I took you.”
Sherlock looked up at him, an unreadable look in his eye. A small smile played across his lips and he buried his face into the blanket he had pulled around him. “So you did.”
John smiled, “Get some rest Sherlock. I’ll see you when you’re feeling better.”
Sherlock nodded and closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. John watched him for a moment longer before standing and walking back to his chair and sat down. He looked over at Sherlock before smiling to himself and looking back at the telly. Slowly Sherlock opened his eyes and looked in Johns direction, “Thank you John.”
-x-
The symptoms finally started about a day and a half later. Sherlock had made his temporary home right next to toilet. He refused to eat anything no matter how much John tried to get him to get something down he refused. How he had anything in his stomach to puke out was beyond John. He winced as Sherlock gagged again and spat into the toilet. As soon as he was sure he wasn’t going to hurl again, Sherlock slunk down and pressed his heated face against the cool bathroom floor. John leaned down and pressed his hand against Sherlock’s sweat slicked skin. He was over heated, but his body was shaking violently. Every time John tried to put a blanket over him he would moan in discomfort and push it off.
He didn’t want to give him anything for fear of making him worse, but he had been tempted to on several occasions. The look on Sherlock’s face broke his heart. It was filled with so much pain and a little bit of self-loathing. John let out a worried breath, before sinking down the floor and pulling Sherlock towards him and laid his head on his lap. His hands carded through Sherlock’s dark curls and down his back. He listened to Sherlock’s heavy breathing trying to make it level out with his touch.
“Distract me John.” He gasped out when he had finally caught his breath.
“What?”
“Distract me. Talk about something meaningless, and random.”
“Uhh, well your brother wants to come and see you again. He’s worried about you.”
“I’m fine.”
“No you’re not. You are far from fine.” John said giving him a stern look, “You are far from it. I don’t know what all is wrong with you, but we really need to talk about it.”
Sherlock shook his head, “I don’t want to.”
John released a breath. He didn’t want to upset the younger man any more than he already was, but there were things that needed to be talked about or he would never get better, “I know you don’t want to Sherlock, but this is nonnegotiable. It has to be done. I don’t want to find you dead or gone because I didn’t do something that could have saved your life.”
The doctor watched as Sherlock stared off into nothing for a long moment, before shifting and looking back up at John. “Please don’t make me tell you.”
“You need to talk about it.”
Sherlock stared up at John. His heart was pounding in his ears, and it felt like his stomach had dropped to his feet. He didn’t want to tell John everything that happened to him. He was ashamed of it, and wanted to forget it himself. He knew if he told John everything the doctor would look at him differently…and he didn’t think he could handle that. John was the only person he actually cared about when it came to what was thought about him. He had been to hell and back and that wasn’t something he wanted to share with anyone. “I can’t.”
“It’s not that you can’t, it’s that you don’t want to.” John sighed. When Sherlock turned away from John the older man sighed and rubbed his temple, “We’ll talk about it.”
-x-
A week had passed since the symptoms had started and Sherlock was finally starting to feel and look a bit better. He still had the occasional craving, but not as bad was when he first woke up, and the ache while annoying was manageable. As long as he stayed asleep during most of the day everything was better. He had avoided talking to John about what had happened to him, but he knew eventually there would be no way around it. He cared deeply for John, and he could see how it was affecting him by not telling him. Sighing he stood and walked slowly over to the closet. He needed some fresh air, and there was a chance he could sneak out without John knowing for a while.
He looked at the clothes in his closet for a moment before pulling out a pair of jeans and a large hoodie. Slipping on a pair of shoes and walked out of his room. He quietly walked past the sleeping John who had fallen asleep a little more than an hour ago, and slipped out of the room and down the stairs. He listened to Johns quiet snores as he descended the stairs, knowing freedom was only moments away. He was almost to the door when he heard Mrs. Hudson’s voice.
“John dear is that you?”
Sherlock pressed his body against the wall, and held his breath. He was low enough on the steps that he could see her, but she couldn’t see him so he watched as she poked her head around the corner and looked around before shrugging and walking back into her apartment. Sherlock waited a few minutes before slowing making his way down the stairs. He quietly pushed the door open and slipped out into the afternoon light. He stood in front of 221B for a long moment before turning and heading down the street.
-x-
John yawned and stretched, loving the feeling of his bones popping from a good nap. He relaxed back into chair giving his body a little more time to really wake up. He glanced over at the couch, his brows furrowing when he didn’t see Sherlock sitting there. Usually around this time Sherlock would be awake and lounging on the couch. They didn’t often say much to each other, but it made John feel better when he could see that Sherlock wasn’t still bed ridden.
After a moment more of thought John stood and walked towards Sherlock’s room. The door was slightly ajar, and as he got closer a feeling of dread started to grow in the pit of his stomach. He stood outside the door for a moment before pushing it open and staring in shock at the empty bed. Sherlock was gone. Where had he gone, and how long ago was it. John couldn’t have been asleep for a more than a couple of hours. But depending on when he left Sherlock could be anywhere, doing anything!
Running his hands through his hair he let out a harsh breath and ran back into the living room. He paced back and forth, trying to figure out what to do. Chewing on his lip he grabbed his phone from out of his pocket and dialed Mycroft’s number.
The older Holmes answered on the second ring, “Mr. Watson. What do I owe the pleasure?”
“He’s gone. I can’t find him! I think he left.”
John was met with silence, and that troubled him. Biting his lip, he listened to the slight sound of Mycroft breathing, “I’ll be right over.”
-x-
Sherlock looked around the empty street, before his eyes traveled up the long lines of the rickety looking building. He hadn’t been here in months, but he was sure everything was still the same. Pulling his hood closer around him he hurried across the street, and into the building. Inside it was cold-the heat still wasn’t working-and slightly damp, but it was shelter enough from the coming rain. Slowly Sherlock walked to the front desk and hit the bell.
“Coming!” a voice called from the little office that was off to the side, “Sorry, sorry I’m almost the-“ as the older man walked out of the office, the smile that had been there only moments ago slipped from his face as he looked at Sherlock. “Sherlock?”
Sherlock smiled slightly, “Mr. Jackson. It’s been a long time.”
The older man nodded, “yes…yes it has…I never thought you would come back…well I never thought you would come back looking like you do know. You don’t look as starved.”
The younger man just smiled and shrugged slightly, “Someone thinks it’s in my best interest to get better.”
Mr. Jackson smiled, “Well cheers to them. I’m glad you have someone to look after you Sherlock. I was worried about you.”
Sherlock gave the other man a tight smile, “I would stay longer but…I should be heading back before John wakes up and finds me gone.”
The older man smiled, “John?” he asked in the tone of voice an elderly person would use when one was talking about a lover or a crush, “Who is this John?”
Sherlock blinked and shook his head, “Nobody.” He said looking away.
Mr. Jackson raised a brow, a small smile on his face. He had no children of his own, and when Sherlock had been here, they had bonded quite nicely. While most thought he was just a senile old man, Sherlock actually saw something else in him and after that they started talking almost nonstop. He had seen the look on Sherlock’s face plenty of times. It was his avoidance look. It was also the look he got when he talked about his past with a man who he refused to name. The older man suspected this John character was the person who Sherlock cared about more than anyone.
Laughing Mr. Jackson folded his arms in front of his chest, “Alright then,” he said, “Just don’t let him slip away.”
Sherlock was about to ask what he meant by that, but the man was walking back into the office, “I thought you would be wanting this,” he said when he walked back out with a case in his hand, “I got it when those men came and ransacked your apartment.”
Sherlock smiled, “That’s exactly what I came back for.” He said setting the case on the counter and popped it open. With careful hands he lifted the instrument from the case and ran his fingers down its length. Judging from everything that was in his room, he highly doubted John had gotten rid of any of his stuff including his old violin, but he just had an incredible urge to have this one back. Looking back up at the man he smiled, “Thank you Mr. Jackson.”
“It was no trouble.” He said, “don’t be a stranger though. I have missed our discussions.”
Sherlock nodded, “As have I,” He said as he set the violin back into the case, and closed it.
Turning, Sherlock headed towards the door only to be stopped once more by Mr. Jackson, “Don’t forget what I said though Sherlock.” He said.
Sherlock gave him a questioning look and tilted his head, “And that was?”
“Don’t let this John person slip away. I can tell you care for him. Let him in. He obviously cares about you a great deal, so don’t let him slip away.”
The younger man stared at him for a long moment before turning and walking out of the building. Sherlock didn’t listen to a lot of people, but he was tempted to listen to Mr. Jackson. He liked John. He liked him a lot. He knew he needed to get over his fear of letting people in, but it was hard. He knew most people would judge him if they knew everything he had suffered through, but by not letting John in, he was pushing him away, and he couldn’t do that. Now that he was back in John’s presence he realized how much it would hurt him if John walked away from him.
Releasing a breath he started back towards 221B. He could have gotten a taxi, but the rain was soothing. It was like it washed away every bad thing, every wrong touch, every bad decision he had every made in his life. Pulling his hood down he looked up and let the rain roll down his face. He stood in the middle of the street for a few minute, just letting the rain wash everything away before heading back home.
It took him far longer to get home than it had to get to where he had been heading. It also didn’t help that he refused to go through the alley ways. He couldn’t help but fear if he met one of his dealers he would be easily swayed back into the habits that had almost killed him. He knew he would eventually end up giving in if they presented him with the chance, but he could just imagine the look on Johns face if he found him again…he was also sure John wouldn’t take him in if he found him lying in the gutter for a second time.
With those thoughts in mind, Sherlock picked up his face till he was almost running. By the time he arrived on the steps of the flat, he was out of breath. He leaned against the door, his chest heaving, and his eyes closed. When it was a little easier to breath, Sherlock turned around and opened the door and stepped in.
“SHERLOCK?!”
The man jumped and looked up to see John running down the stairs, his face full or worry and a little bit of anger. “Joh-“
“Sherlock Holmes! Don’t you ever do that again! I was worried sick about you! Where the hell have you been?” he asked, “Look at you! You’re soaked to the bone. Get up stairs this instant,” Sherlock didn’t have time to protest. John was pushing him up the stairs and into the flat where he left him standing and dripping all over the floor. Moments later John emerged from the bathroom and tossed a towel at Sherlock with the command to dry himself off before disappearing into Sherlock’s room once more.
“You shouldn’t have made him worry like you did.” A voice said from beside him making him jump again. Looking over he was rather surprised to see Mycroft sitting in one of the chairs, his hands folded neatly on his lap. Sherlock swallowed and rubbed the towel over his soaked head. “Sherlock, I’m serious. You shouldn’t have worried him. It was very selfish of you.”
Sherlock scowled beneath the towel and turned away from his brother, “It wasn’t my intention.”
“Be it your intention or not, you still did it.” The older man berated, “He was worried sick. I thought he was going to have a heart attack.”
Sherlock sighed and pulled the towel away from his head. He glanced towards the room where John had disappeared into. He hadn’t meant to scare the other man. He just needed some fresh air, and then he wanted his violin. John walked back into the room, a fresh set of clothes in hand, and pushed at Sherlock till he went into the bathroom.
The younger man was about to say something when John held up his hand, “Don’t.” he said his voice low, “Don’t you dare say that you’re sorry. I don’t want to hear it. Because I know once you say those words I won’t be mad at you anymore.”
“But I am.”
John paused in filling up the tub and sighed, resting his hands on the sides of the tub. “You can’t do that Sherlock. I’ve lived five months thinking you were dead…and now you come back, and I just can’t stand the thought of you running away again.” He turned his body and looked at the other man, “You have to think about someone other than yourself Sherlock.”
He had hurt John, and he could tell. He had never really cared who he upset until John, and now he had made the only person he had cared about upset. Looking down he nodded, feeling very much like a scolded child. He wanted to tell John that he was sorry, but he didn’t want to upset John even further so he settled with asking: “Will you forgive me?”
John stared at him for a long moment before nodding a small smile on his face, “I can’t stay mad at you for very long anyways.” He said, “Now take a bath, so we can get you warmed up. I have no doubt that you’ll have a chill in the morning.”
TBC…
A/N: WOOT longest chapter so far. Usually I have such a hard time writing long chapters, but for this story I’m having a pretty easy time. I also made this chapter pretty long because I have to go on a road trip down to salt lake tomorrow when I wake up so I wanted to give you a long chapter since I won’t be posting for a few days most likely. But who knows I might be able to get the energy to write something while we’re driving. I know I’m going to start the next chapter as soon as this is all posted so yeah. Anywho, all mistakes are mine, please tell me what you think yadayadayada :D and thank you for reading :D