Told you so
Mar. 28th, 2012 06:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
solrosanNotes: Fifth part of Eating us alive, again, following John through Sherlock's eating disorder for the second time.
Summary: Their world is starting to fall apart, but no one notice and they try to ignore it.
-x-
It was completely dark in Sherlock’s bedroom and the detective sat on the edge of the bed, wrapped in both their covers and resting his head against John’s stomach. John was standing between his legs and slowly massaged his scalp and neck trying to ease his headache, fighting really hard not to say “I told you so”. Because John had told him so, over and over again. He knew – they both did – this would happen when Sherlock perused a case at his normal pace.
Right now, rubbing Sherlock’s face in his own reckless stupidity wouldn’t do any good though.
Instead John described, in a low voice, how he treated a 58-year-old patient with hypertension, well-controlled diabetes and slightly elevated cholesterol levels. It wasn’t even close to interesting, it was one of the more ordinary patients he saw. A patient mundane enough to keep anonymous, a patient he had high hopes of never becoming interesting. He just kept on talking to keep the silence and its terrors at bay, letting his voice become the background noise that took up the entire room.
“Can I get you anything?” John wondered after a short silence when he had recited his entire train of thoughts about the patient’s glucose levels.
Sherlock shook his head ever so slightly and John stopped his hands at the back of Sherlock’s neck.
“I’d like you to at least drink something. Do you think you can do that?”
Sherlock nodded.
“I’ll be right back, then,” John whispered. He stroked Sherlock’s hair one last time and placed a kiss on his forehead – Did he feel a bit feverish? No, he was just imagining – before he leaving the room to prepare a sugar and salt solution for him. It was a small comfort in all this that Sherlock almost always agreed on drinking something and John hoped it would ease the headache enough to make it possible for him to sleep.
The kitchen was a mess and it took a while before he had located a clean glass. Their entire world was falling apart and no one (except perhaps Mrs Hudson) seemed to know. It scared John that no one noticed what went on inside 221B Baker Street and it frustrated him that Sherlock’s disorder was invisible to everyone but him.
He couldn’t really blame the other though, because, sometimes, like today, when they were out in the world, John forgot the lingering smell of sick in the bathroom and the nights when he cradled Sherlock to sleep. John forgot, because Sherlock never let it show outside the walls of their flat. All the strength and energy he managed to gather were put into keeping up appearances and he managed it all too well. So well, that even John was fooled.
Until they came home and Sherlock collapsed like this, making reality come crashing down on them.
John tasted the solution he’d mixed and made a face; it tasted terrible. He wished he could make Sherlock eat something solid instead, like…an orange. All he needed to do was to glance over the kitchen to realise that they didn’t have any perishables at all in the flat.
Just as well, he figured with a sigh, as he started his way back to the bedroom. John had grown very tired of oranges to be honest, but he wouldn’t dare complaining when Sherlock actually ate something voluntary. Even if he left most of the orange for John to finish.
John hesitated with his hand on the light switch as he entered the bedroom, but after looking at Sherlock – who hadn’t moved since he left – he decided to leave the light turned off. Sherlock had his eyes closed and pure exhaustion was to be read all over him. Exhaustion and pain.
“Hey….” John made his presence known by kissing Sherlock’s forehead again and sitting down next to him. Sherlock flinched, but opened his eyes and reached for the glass; their hands trembled both when John gave the glass to him and when Sherlock handed it back after forcing it down.
“All right?” John whispered and ran his fingers through Sherlock’s hair.
Sherlock closed his eyes and waited a couple of seconds before he nodded and John drew a sigh of relief; as long as he kept fluids there was no reason to worry more than usual.
“Come here….” John arranged himself so he sat with his back against the bed’s headboard and gently pulled Sherlock into his arms, making him rest against his chest. “Comfortable?”
Sherlock nodded. John rearranged the covers so that it covered them both and picked up the scalp massage.
“There’s this book I’m reading – you’d hate it, but I think it’s okay. It’s called Gai-Jin,” John picked up the first topic he could think of to once more fill the silence with nonsense talk; he didn’t really like the book but he had liked the previous books in the Asian Saga. For that reason he ended up getting lost while trying to untangle how the books were connected, but he knew it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he wasn’t allowing it to be quiet. It wasn’t much, but at least he felt that he did something to help.
Sherlock took a loose grip on John’s jumper and the shivers subsided slowly as the breaths became deeper and calmer. John felt it and wished he could relax with Sherlock, but it was as if he got tenser and tenser with every breath he took.
It didn’t take long at all until Sherlock fell asleep, but it took a bit longer before John noticed. When he did, all his words disappeared and were replaced with sobs.
He buried his face in Sherlock’s hair and cried as quietly as he could, not because he was afraid to wake Sherlock – he didn’t think anything less than a canon salute would – but because he didn’t want to hear it. It was pathetic, but that’s was why he preferred to cry in the shower. Somehow, not feeling the tears made it possible to pretend they weren’t there.
When the exhaustion caught up with him and he fell asleep, he still had his face buried in Sherlock’s hair.
-x-
Part VI: Cup fo Tears
Summary: Their world is starting to fall apart, but no one notice and they try to ignore it.
-x-
It was completely dark in Sherlock’s bedroom and the detective sat on the edge of the bed, wrapped in both their covers and resting his head against John’s stomach. John was standing between his legs and slowly massaged his scalp and neck trying to ease his headache, fighting really hard not to say “I told you so”. Because John had told him so, over and over again. He knew – they both did – this would happen when Sherlock perused a case at his normal pace.
Right now, rubbing Sherlock’s face in his own reckless stupidity wouldn’t do any good though.
Instead John described, in a low voice, how he treated a 58-year-old patient with hypertension, well-controlled diabetes and slightly elevated cholesterol levels. It wasn’t even close to interesting, it was one of the more ordinary patients he saw. A patient mundane enough to keep anonymous, a patient he had high hopes of never becoming interesting. He just kept on talking to keep the silence and its terrors at bay, letting his voice become the background noise that took up the entire room.
“Can I get you anything?” John wondered after a short silence when he had recited his entire train of thoughts about the patient’s glucose levels.
Sherlock shook his head ever so slightly and John stopped his hands at the back of Sherlock’s neck.
“I’d like you to at least drink something. Do you think you can do that?”
Sherlock nodded.
“I’ll be right back, then,” John whispered. He stroked Sherlock’s hair one last time and placed a kiss on his forehead – Did he feel a bit feverish? No, he was just imagining – before he leaving the room to prepare a sugar and salt solution for him. It was a small comfort in all this that Sherlock almost always agreed on drinking something and John hoped it would ease the headache enough to make it possible for him to sleep.
The kitchen was a mess and it took a while before he had located a clean glass. Their entire world was falling apart and no one (except perhaps Mrs Hudson) seemed to know. It scared John that no one noticed what went on inside 221B Baker Street and it frustrated him that Sherlock’s disorder was invisible to everyone but him.
He couldn’t really blame the other though, because, sometimes, like today, when they were out in the world, John forgot the lingering smell of sick in the bathroom and the nights when he cradled Sherlock to sleep. John forgot, because Sherlock never let it show outside the walls of their flat. All the strength and energy he managed to gather were put into keeping up appearances and he managed it all too well. So well, that even John was fooled.
Until they came home and Sherlock collapsed like this, making reality come crashing down on them.
John tasted the solution he’d mixed and made a face; it tasted terrible. He wished he could make Sherlock eat something solid instead, like…an orange. All he needed to do was to glance over the kitchen to realise that they didn’t have any perishables at all in the flat.
Just as well, he figured with a sigh, as he started his way back to the bedroom. John had grown very tired of oranges to be honest, but he wouldn’t dare complaining when Sherlock actually ate something voluntary. Even if he left most of the orange for John to finish.
John hesitated with his hand on the light switch as he entered the bedroom, but after looking at Sherlock – who hadn’t moved since he left – he decided to leave the light turned off. Sherlock had his eyes closed and pure exhaustion was to be read all over him. Exhaustion and pain.
“Hey….” John made his presence known by kissing Sherlock’s forehead again and sitting down next to him. Sherlock flinched, but opened his eyes and reached for the glass; their hands trembled both when John gave the glass to him and when Sherlock handed it back after forcing it down.
“All right?” John whispered and ran his fingers through Sherlock’s hair.
Sherlock closed his eyes and waited a couple of seconds before he nodded and John drew a sigh of relief; as long as he kept fluids there was no reason to worry more than usual.
“Come here….” John arranged himself so he sat with his back against the bed’s headboard and gently pulled Sherlock into his arms, making him rest against his chest. “Comfortable?”
Sherlock nodded. John rearranged the covers so that it covered them both and picked up the scalp massage.
“There’s this book I’m reading – you’d hate it, but I think it’s okay. It’s called Gai-Jin,” John picked up the first topic he could think of to once more fill the silence with nonsense talk; he didn’t really like the book but he had liked the previous books in the Asian Saga. For that reason he ended up getting lost while trying to untangle how the books were connected, but he knew it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he wasn’t allowing it to be quiet. It wasn’t much, but at least he felt that he did something to help.
Sherlock took a loose grip on John’s jumper and the shivers subsided slowly as the breaths became deeper and calmer. John felt it and wished he could relax with Sherlock, but it was as if he got tenser and tenser with every breath he took.
It didn’t take long at all until Sherlock fell asleep, but it took a bit longer before John noticed. When he did, all his words disappeared and were replaced with sobs.
He buried his face in Sherlock’s hair and cried as quietly as he could, not because he was afraid to wake Sherlock – he didn’t think anything less than a canon salute would – but because he didn’t want to hear it. It was pathetic, but that’s was why he preferred to cry in the shower. Somehow, not feeling the tears made it possible to pretend they weren’t there.
When the exhaustion caught up with him and he fell asleep, he still had his face buried in Sherlock’s hair.
-x-
Part VI: Cup fo Tears
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2012-03-28 05:57 pm (UTC)It just all sounds so careful, and respectful, and it's amazing how you handle the pain of it in such a small, understated way.
Thank you for sharing.
no subject
Date: 2012-03-29 08:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-28 06:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-29 08:23 am (UTC)