Work Text:
I Remember
John found himself rolling restlessly in his bed. He woke up feeling rather guilty from a dream he had, he palmed at his erection, which he found a bit inappropriate. He was a bit glad that when Baker Street was rebuilt his floor ended up with a second room, it was almost like Sherlock was hoping that John and Rosie would move back in, and made space for them. Which he found rather touching given that he has been incredibly terrible to Sherlock since he came back. But here was Sherlock giving John another chance. John hopes this time, he doesn’t fuck it up.
He was initially afraid to bring Rosie along, because he thought that Sherlock wouldn’t like her or just be careless around her. But Sherlock constantly amazed him with how good he was with Rosie. Sherlock surprised John, the day he visited Baker Street after the construction was finally finished and he saw that the entire flat was baby proofed. That amazement only grew when Sherlock brought John upstairs to his old room, where Sherlock managed to build a lovely space just for Rosie and John. Sherlock even made a lovely bright nursery with a lovely mural of a meadow filled with bees and butterflies, which was much better than whatever nightmare inducing clown thing Rosie’s first nursery had. And in that moment he knew that he should try to trust Sherlock to be good to Rosie, and he absolutely was, it was at the point where Sherlock could easily be considered Rosie’s second parent. Sherlock made time for Rosie, and played with her, and took care of her when John was too busy with work or caught up in a dark mood. Sherlock was trying and John wanted to try being as good to him as Sherlock was good to John.
He wanted to repair that relationship and he was working on it, but as time passed, he started to realize that so much of how he acted and reacted to Sherlock was coming from a place where maybe friendship wasn’t the actual goal. He couldn’t deny it, he found Sherlock attractive. And he was starting to have more and more dreams about sharing the night with Sherlock, and he found himself longing for that to be the reality. This going their separate ways for the night situation wasn’t what he wanted. At times, he felt that maybe Sherlock was just as reluctant as he was to parts ways for the night because there was many a night where they fell asleep on the couch together, sometimes he would think that there could even be a chance that they touched during the night because sometimes he even woke with Sherlock’s hand in his hand, and it was mornings like those he felt most relaxed. But he constantly worried that one of these days he was going to have a night terror that would undo all the progress they had made.
But the dream that woke him felt more like a dream inspired by a flashback rather than just some fragment of his imagination. He dreamt that he got drugged by Sherlock, which wasn’t out of character for Sherlock, who has joked about it quite a few times. But it was what he did while drugged that made him feel a bit guilty. He dreamt that while he was drugged, Sherlock measured him and he ran his fingers through Sherlock’s hair like he always wanted to. They talked about why Sherlock left and he found out how he sacrificed himself to keep the people he cared about alive. He processed the thought and realized that if it was all true; Sherlock was completely alone and dismantling Moriarty’s network. He was starting to understand just how much Sherlock was willing to give up for him.
And since he moved back to Baker, he realized the depths of the self sacrificing nature of Sherlock. But he could shake himself free of the dream. It started with them arguing about the suits for the wedding and Sherlock demanding to take his measurements. But things took a turn, when he realized that Sherlock had a hard on. He allowed Sherlock to seek release by frotting against his leg. Which he found odd, because if this was his usual dreams with Sherlock, he would’ve made every effort to bring him to a mind shattering orgasm, not whatever that was. When he dreamed of being with Sherlock, most of the sex was actually quite lovely, not this humiliating, desperate ordeal.
It was incredibly sad to have Sherlock writhing against him, not at all with the usual grace that Sherlock has, but like someone who was absolutely starving and presented with a feast and afraid of where and when the next meal would come from. John was so moved by the display, that he finally let his guard down and kissed Sherlock, and that just opened up a flood gate. He was slightly disturbed at how easily he thought Sherlock would be open to what he did next. His dream self just took his cock out and waved it in Sherlock’s face, and Sherlock just took him down his throat. He felt guilty because in the dream he was just so rough with Sherlock. Sherlock’s technique was sloppy and incredibly lacking in any technique. He drove his rather large cock, down Sherlock’s throat, and he could feel Sherlock struggling. Carelessly John dragged Sherlock up and down his length by a rough tug of Sherlock’s hair. He was rough, and just chasing his orgasm, he knew Sherlock already got his. He found it terrible because he thought that he would’ve treated Sherlock better than that; he liked to think that he would cherish Sherlock like he deserved to be. And to top it off he didn’t even bother to tell Sherlock when he was about to cum. Sherlock just took it, and the look he gave John as he swallowed, bothered him immensely. Sherlock looked like he was accepting some grand offering and licking his lips as if trying to enjoy every last drop. Eventually Sherlock stared just past John with a great sadness and he wondered what Sherlock saw.
Yet what threw him off most of all was the fact that Sherlock gave him orders and he followed them without question. He wasn’t sure how Sherlock got him to comply but it just felt like nothing could stop him. Sherlock asked him to forget the day and have a normal life with Mary, because it would make him happy. Which was not a fact, and it was very much proven that his marriage had caused him a lot of misery. It made his heart ache when Sherlock said that the only thing that would make Sherlock happy, was a happy John. John felt the same, a happy Sherlock would mean a happy John. In the dream, he sat down and saw himself in the mirror, he had some kind of medication patch haphazardly stuck to it like it was some bit of debris that accidentally attached to him. He removed it and sat down, he started counting because that was what Sherlock told him to do.
John’s erection for some unfortunate reason, decided that guilt wasn’t enough to kill it. In fact, it was very insistent on sticking around. He sighed and leaned back, he took his cock in hand and did a slow stroke. It was unpleasant, he tried to push pass the disturbing dream, but something about it bothered him. He thought about it, something just wasn’t right about the dream. It just didn’t feel like a dream, it felt like a flashback. He decided that he didn’t even want to deal with his hard on with a hands on manner. He decided that the best course would be a cold shower, unfortunately the way the plumbing was, the sound of the water rushing down after using the newly installed second floor shower had a habit of waking up everyone in the whole building. He grabbed his bathrobe and went down to the main bathroom. He noticed a faint light as he approached but he knew that sometimes Sherlock stayed in his room till a late hour with the lights on, even as he slept. He opened the bathroom door only to find Sherlock standing rather close to the mirror pulling at something at the side of his head.
Sherlock paused and turned towards John, “I’ll just get out of your way.” He said that as he rushed to grab a bunch of medications from the shelf above the sink. He accidentally dropped them in his rush.
John quickly assisted Sherlock in picking them up, despite Sherlock saying he could do it himself. John saw a combo of medications, different anti-seizure, anti-anxiety, antidepressants, and muscle relaxants in the mix; but what really caught his eye was a box full of patches, similar to the one in his dream. His hands brushed up against Sherlock’s as he was reaching out for the box. But all the meds in this combo were usually found in people who had brain injuries. John didn’t want to think of a world where Sherlock was there but his mind wasn’t. He wasn’t quite sure what took over him, but instead of picking up the box, he grabbed Sherlock’s hand and Sherlock paused. He made eye contact with Sherlock. His free hand reached to pick up the box and indeed it was transdermal scopolamine. He knew that it had a side effect of making people susceptible to suggestion. He looked at the box and back at Sherlock, as he started to feel like it was very much possible that the dream he just had was indeed the flashback he thought it was.
Sherlock was breathing rather hard, and John could feel just how fast Sherlock’s pulse was. It was always a relief to feel Sherlock’s pulse because he remembered how much it wrecked him when he reached out for Sherlock and didn’t feel one.
John swallowed, and didn’t let go of Sherlock’s hand, “Sherlock, why are you on all of these?”
Sherlock took a deep breath, “John, we cannot live our lives without it having its injuries, and some injuries are fairly permanent. But it’s okay, I got this managed all on my own.”
John sighed, “Sherlock, you don’t have to manage this all on your own, I’m here, I’m a doctor, I can help.” He shifted his grip on Sherlock to interlock their fingers. John smiled at the sudden blush Sherlock developed. He was quite glad that his hard on was finally wavering and he hoped that Sherlock didn’t notice it during this whole encounter.
“It’s all fine, I have it under control, you don’t need to worry about me, you should focus on Rosie and building a life for her. You are more than welcome to stay here as long as you want and need, but I am sure you will eventually want to find a mother figure for her. I’ll be whatever you want me to be, I hope you know that. Please I hope you know that,” said Sherlock as he avoided looking at John.
John sighed, “Sherlock,” he tightened his grasp of Sherlock’s hand, “I want you to know, that you’re it for me, I don’t care in what capacity that is, but you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life. You have been an amazing parent to Rosie, and I finally understand why you jumped, and I regret how I have treated you since your return. You deserved more than that. You jumped so that Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, and I can live, I understand now that there wasn’t any other way...”
Sherlock quickly pulled away, “when did Mycroft tell you?”
John’s mouth suddenly felt really dry, he took a deep breath and swallowed, “you must’ve told me at some point.”
“I never did, you couldn’t know I was alive while I was gone. And when I came back it was obvious that there wasn’t a point to telling you, because no reason for leaving you was ever going to justify what my leaving did to you. I didn’t want you feeling guilty about your anger or the fact that you hate me. and I don’t think I can ever do anything I can do to make you stop being angry about that fact, and you just stay here because it is convenient, but at least I can try to make rosie happy,” said Sherlock as he tried to get up from the floor. He tried to grab the box of patches from John, but wasn’t successful in acquiring the box. He made a go for the bathroom door, but John managed to grab onto him again. He struggled against John’s grip. “I never told you, Mycroft was the only person who knew the real reason why I had to jump. It wasn’t to chase some thrill or win the game. I only did it for you.” He started hyperventilating, and flinched when John tried to pull him into an embrace.
John took another deep breath, he knew at this point that Sherlock’s panic at John seeing the patches, meant that some form of the events of his dream actually happened. “Sherlock, look at me,” he dropped the box of patches. He gently raised his free hand again; “Sherlock, I am going to lay my hand on your shoulder and I want you to breathe with me okay.” He held on to Sherlock and waited for his breath to even out. “That forgotten Wednesday, I think I remember it now; I’m...”
Sherlock quickly turned around in John’s embrace and threw his arms around John and buried his face into John’s neck. He held onto John desperately, taking in all the info he could because he knew that this was probably the last time he could ever have John in his arms, “I’m sorry, I am not going to make any excuses, you weren’t in a state where I could take what was offered to me and I still did it anyway... I... you can report me if you want. I can leave if you want me to. I...” He paused as he felt a light pressure on the side of his head and a gentle tug of his hair. He flinched again, he was even open for another beating if it came to that. He was surprised by John pressing a gentle kiss against his lips. He froze unsure of what was happening, but tried to return the favor.
John pulled back and pressed another kiss against Sherlock’s mouth which at this point was hanging open in shock, “it’s all fine Sherlock, I am not mad at you, if anything I am angry with myself. I always thought that if I ever had the fortune to have you that way, I would take the chance to absolutely worship you. I didn’t do that; I treated you terribly. I have so many regrets about how I have been treating you, and I hate myself for hurting you back in the morgue, I want to be better. You deserve more than me, I am too broken for you. I couldn’t even appreciate all you did for me. I know now, that you deserve more than anything I can ever give you. If you will still have me, I want to be better, I want to be the kind of person you deserve. You have been nothing but kind to me, and no matter what I did to you, you are still here and giving me so much of your life. You provide Rosie and me with so much, and I don’t want to think of a life without you.” John took a deep breath. “So I’ll be here for as long as you’ll have me.”
Sherlock was staring at John, as much as he avoided trying to pull too many deductions on John these days, he found himself reading John like he was a book. He already noticed that John was kinder and softer these days, and at times he would catch himself in flights of fancy where he believed that all the activities of daily living they shared was them being romantic best friends raising their kid instead of just platonic friends living together where Sherlock was constantly babysitter. He felt like Rosie was certainly attached to him. He knew that he wanted the life they had together for as long as John was willing to have him.
He wanted to take the next step, he could tell John wanted to take that next step. The evidence was there before his very eyes but he had the hardest time trusting it. He wasn’t sure if John really meant what he said, but he had a choice between believing John and taking the chance at being more or maintaining that distance he had between his fantasy of John and the reality they lived. The choice was one that he felt absolutely physically, and he didn’t like just how his transport could just override his mind. He felt John holding his hands, and he could feel John being just as nervous as he was. He decided to lean in and take the chance because it was better than not knowing; he knew that if it didn’t work out it would probably kill him, but at the same time this current reality was one where he was slowly dying. Maybe just maybe he can have that light, fluffy cloud of joy that was the idea of John and him being in a romantic relationship. It was something he ad dreamed of since he realized that John shot the cabbie. He could take that step and actually have what he always wanted but never knew until he met John. He took a deep breath and said “I’ll have you forever if you let me.”
Sherlock felt John pull him in, and he found himself straddling John’s legs and being pulled into another kiss. Sherlock melted into the kiss, he felt like absolute liquid as he did his best to make as much contact with John as he possibly could. He wanted this to be real, but for all he knew, he could currently just be on the bathroom floor suffering some accident with all of his medications. But as long as he was feeling enough physical contact from John he could believe that this wasn’t a dream. He tried to shut down the part of his mind that was spiraling in questioning this moment. But another ugly, nagging thought crossed by, what if this was John just toying with him, because for all he knew, John still hated him. He doubted that John could be so cruel, but it wouldn’t be the first time Sherlock had to deal with people dangling what he desperately wanted in front of him just to take it away. Sherlock felt a sudden nip against his bottom lip, which snapped him back into the moment.
John smiled against Sherlock’s lips, as Sherlock suddenly came back into the moment, “This is real, Sherlock, please believe me, this is real,” he whispered against Sherlock’s lips, as if afraid to break contact. He placed his hands on Sherlock’s hips and pulled even closer. He gasped as he felt Sherlock rub his hard on against his own equally hard cock. It wasn’t the same grace Sherlock normally had, it was quite desperate. John realized that if this was the first time they were going to do this together with both of them being fully awake, he wanted to do it properly and in a bed. John moved his knees up and pulled Sherlock even closer, he nudged Sherlock’s legs to go around his waist. He held tightly onto Sherlock’s thighs, as he tried to rotate into a kneeling position. Sherlock locked his legs around John, and John surprised himself as he managed to move from the kneeling position to full on standing. He held onto Sherlock, and walked towards Sherlock’s bed.
Sherlock felt secure as John carried him to bed, and gently placed him down. He was relieved because he wasn’t quite sure how much longer his knees were going to last on the hard bathroom floor. He felt John’s fingers hook onto the waist of his pajama pants. Sherlock nodded when John locked eyes with him answering the question before John even asked. He gasped when John gently brushed his hands against his cock as John pulled down his pants. Sherlock pressed another light kiss against John’s temple, he held his position, just smiling against John’s head.
John started to sprinkle kisses against Sherlock’s neck, humming in approval when Sherlock started squirming with excitement. He stopped when he felt a hand in his hair, he stayed still, “Sherlock do you want me to stop?”
“Don’t stop, just pick another place, it’s too overwhelming for me,” said Sherlock. He leaned forward and took off his shirt quickly falling back on to the bed, hoping John wouldn’t notice his gnarled back.
John nodded, he leaned back and removed his dressing gown and boxers, he placed a hand next to Sherlock’s head in some odd one handed push up kind of way. He ground his cock against Sherlock’s and they both moaned in delight at finally being able to touch each other in this way.
Sherlock pulled John against him so that their bodies were absolutely flushed against each other. He lost track of just how long they did this, but he didn’t mind. He absolutely adored having John’s full weight on him. He felt John’s tongue brush against his lips, and Sherlock opened his mouth so that John could start exploring it, he marveled in the feeling of John’s tongue against his own. He placed a hand in John’s hair, pulling him back as he started to kiss his way down John’s neck. He wrapped his hands around John and rolled him over so that Sherlock could be the one on top. He kisses a trail down John’s chest, and he nipped at John’s nipples and found them to be especially sensitive. He laid some gentle kisses across John’s scar. He marveled in finally being able to do this, but paused as he felt John gently stroking his back.
“Sherlock, you don’t have to say anything now, but I hope one day you can share how you got these with me,” said John as his fingers gently ghosted over Sherlock’s scars. “I feel like you don’t want me to see them; but there is nothing you can ever do, that is going to stop me from wanting you.” He felt a particularly tight spot of muscle and scar tissue, and started massaging it.
Sherlock leaned into John's touch, and once again felt himself melting against John. He closed his eyes and let out a content sigh. He enjoyed the feeling, and wouldn’t be averse to John doing more of it.
John enjoyed the look of peace that broke out across Sherlock’s face, he wished he could see it more often. “Sherlock, back when I first got this scar, the knots were the most frustrating physical feeling I had to tackle. The steroid shots helped a little, but message therapy was what really did it for me. Do you think that sounds like something you want me to try?”
Sherlock nodded against John’s, “yes, John, I think I would like that very much.” He felt John wrap his arms around him, and they were rolled over, Sherlock was on his back with John smiling over him.
John kissed Sherlock again before pushing himself into a kneeling position to Sherlock’s side, “Okay, let’s begin, just to let you know, this will probably hurt more before it feels better.” Sherlock nodded, before rolling onto his belly. John started to stroke his hands over Sherlock’s back taking note of the problem areas to work on. And after he mapped all of that out, he started to knead at each individual knot, in hopes of softening it and increasing the blood flow to the area in pain. He would occasionally stop when he felt Sherlock shifting uncomfortably or making pained sounds.He kept working and working until every knot was massaged out. He built up quite the sweat because of just how much work it took to smooth out the muscles of Sherlock’s gnarled back. He fell back to catch his breath and noticed that Sherlock had fallen asleep. He enjoyed the look of contentment that graced Sherlock’s features. He never saw that look on Sherlock’s face before, he never knew that it was possible for Sherlock to ever be content with anything in his life. But he realized that maybe he just didn’t see all of Sherlock. He realized as time moved on that maybe he was blind to certain sides of Sherlock, and it hurt their relationship. He couldn’t believe that Sherlock actually thought he hated him, and he wanted to do everything possible to make sure that Sherlock would never feel that way again. He inched his way towards Sherlock’s side. He gathered Sherlock into his arms, and also drifted into slumber.
The morning light hit Sherlock’s face and he felt wonderful. He had the best dream ever, where John and him shared a moment of closeness and went to bed. He wasn’t in pain, which was a rarity these days without the help of opioids, which he aggressively avoided because he didn’t want to tempt faith and fall back into addiction. He dreamed that John held him and massaged away his pains. He felt a shift on his bed and panicked. He quickly turned around to see the source of movement. He felt his breath caught in his throat, it was like a waking dream. He was afraid to move because the remnants of the dream would fade away. That dream was John staring at him and just holding him. “John…”
John gently kissed Sherlock’s forehead and tip of the nose. “Hey Love, as much as I would love to stay all day with you in bed. Our little princess is going to wake up any minute now, and demand every ounce of our attention.” He presses another kiss against Sherlock’s lips. “We will definitely talk more about what happened last night, but we have to be parents now. And we are going to talk about how we are going to live our lives now.” He smiled at Sherlock still staring at him in disbelief.
“You called me ‘Love’, why?” Asked Sherlock.
“Because I love you, Love,” replied John. He kissed Sherlock again while gently stroking his fingers through Sherlock’s hair. “And Sherlock, this is real, believe me, this is real. It’s not a dream or a joke. I love you.”
Sherlock blinked, “you love me? Why would you love me, why would anyone love me?”
John felt his throat tighten up, he hated the fact that Sherlock believes that he isn’t worthy of being loved. He wanted to hurt every one who made Sherlock feel that way, but then he realized that he played his own part in fueling Sherlock’s belief. “Sherlock, you give and you give and you rarely get anything in return. It took me forever to realize that. I love you and you are worthy of being loved and cherished.” He saw that Sherlock was starting to tear up, so he pulled Sherlock in for a tight hug and kissed away each tear that fell.
Sherlock’s mouth twitched into a small smile, and he squeezed John tightly. He still couldn’t believe that this was happening and for all he knew he was having some seizure or in a coma of sorts. Yet Sherlock could smell John in ways he never had before and he could feel his heartbeat, so the observations told him that yes this was real. He made his choice, he was going to believe all of this was real, yet at the same time he wasn’t sure if he could trust that belief. He heard small foot steps roaming from above.
“DADDY, WHERE ARE YOU? SHERLOCK,” cried out Rosie. She started to cry, she felt like she was alone and no one was coming for her.
Sherlock quickly pulled on some pajamas and wrapped his robe around him. While John scrambled to find any article of clothing that belonged to him. Sherlock tossed him a pair of grey sweatpants and his striped sweater.
“These are my gym clothes. Why do you have my gym clothes? Also I was looking for this sweater years ago,” said John as he pulled on the articles of clothing.
Sherlock just answered with a wink and he ran upstairs to respond to Rosie’s cries.
John let out a small laugh as he followed Sherlock. He knew he was going to follow Sherlock for the rest of his life, no matter what happened. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy and he knew they both were going to have their bad days. And he knew there was going to be challenges but he felt ready to address them. He smiled as he saw Sherlock caring for Rosie, he was reading her a book. John felt sadness when he noticed that Sherlock was struggling with some words, so he joined them and read the story whenever Sherlock struggled. He knew that he couldn’t be sure about how Sherlock’s brain damage could affect Sherlock in the future, but he knew he wanted to help Sherlock with it all. He was going to be better, he was going to be everything Sherlock needed him to be.