Into the Night - AU - Locked to seaweed_writes

[ihadabadday]

Sex sold. It could be seen in marketing for businesses across all sorts of industries.

And for John Watson, his business was booming.

He worked out of a club in London that catered to certain... Tastes. Men and women who looked to dominate someone sexually. Some would look down on a man having that job, scoffing. Sex work was legal though. But those who were interested in BDSM, found sex workers to be lacking.

John was sitting at a bar at the club he usually worked out of, nursing a soda. He rarely drank when he was working, preferring to stay sober.

He looked around the room, seeing if there was anyone who caught his interest tonight.

Comments

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock shrugged. He was frustrated- both that he had barely seen John in the last week, and that his experiment was not going the way he was hoping.

"Don't care." He rumbled, then went back to slicing another small chunk of the cow's brain to look under the microscope.

[ihadabadday]

John sighed and nodded. "Alright. I'm going to go shower..."

He then retreated to the bathroom. Were things unraveling now? Was Sherlock uninterested?

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock made a "Hmmmm" noise in the affirmative and went back to his work.

By the time that John was out of the shower, Sherlock had already given up on getting anything else done with regards to the cow brain. He was in his chair, with his laptop on his lap, typing away noisily at several websites at once.

[ihadabadday]

John walked over to the couch and sat down. He watched Sherlock, biting his lip. "Why don't we get out of town for a bit?" He asked, "Take a weekend just for ourselves?"

[seaweed_writes]

He looked up from his computer, giving John a confused look. "Out of town? Where would we go? What would he do?"

It wasn't that he was totally again the idea, but, there was nowhere particular that he wanted to go.

[ihadabadday]

"The country, the seaside. Something. Just the two of us. We could do whatever we wanted." John said, "Ever since I started this job, I know we haven't spent a lot of time together..."

John bit his lip. He didn't know what he would do if Sherlock turned him down.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock was not really one for travel. He had been many places with his family as a child, both in the UK and around Europe, and even Asia. But he much preferred home, with this constancy and familiarity. There was no where in particular that he wanted to go, really.

But John wanted to go.. Would he be able to get time off so quickly that they could just get away? Graham could survive in Scotland Yard without him for a few days, so he wasn't worried about himself.

"Where... would you want to go?" He asked cautiously, not really saying yes nor no to the question.

[ihadabadday]

John chewed on his lip, thinking. "I don't know." He answered after a moment, "Maybe the English countryside."

He could see Sherlock didn't want to do it. He pushed away from the table and got up.

[seaweed_writes]

"John?" He said, confused. Why was he leaving?

"Is... there a certain part of the country that you wanted to see, north close to Scotland, or more flat land close to Wales?"

[ihadabadday]

"Just forget it." The blonde whispered, "We don't need to go away."

He began to clean the dishes, his shoulders slumped.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock got up and walked over towards the sink. He didn't want to have to do this, especially out of a scene, but.. need must.

"JOHN." It was his dom voice, the one John knew that meant no nonsense, that he was to be listened to.

He grabbed John;s shoulder and pulled him around none too gently, so they were looking eye to eye again.

"It obvious that you want to get away, but you keep pussyfooting around and not giving me any information. So. Tell me."

[ihadabadday]

He almost slapped Sherlock for grabbing him, moving him. He just stared at his partner, an unknown expression on his face.

"I feel like you're pulling away, that you don't want me anymore. I thought going away would help us."

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock let go, staring John in the face. Him pulling away? John was the one who had insisted on getting a job, even though Sherlock had said that he would have plenty enough for both of them. He didn't say any of this, he bit his tongue, holding it back.

I never said I didn't want to go. You assumed. You do that a lot, assume you know what I want or what I am thinking, when I can assure you that you do not." He was a bit more acerbic than he meant to be, but what he said was the truth.

[ihadabadday]

John swallowed, not saying anything. He was pants at relationships and this was the longest he had been in by far. He wanted to trust Sherlock's words. But there was a voice in the back of his head whispering to him.

He pulled away and left the room. John retreated upstairs. He didn't know what to believe.

[seaweed_writes]

"Fine!" He yelled, loud enough to carry up the stairs. He grabbed his Belstaff and slammed the door after him, stomping down the stairs and walking at a brisk pace towards the Regents Park, with no real destination in mind.

[ihadabadday]

John sighed and rubbed his face. Fuck. But he stayed upstairs for the rest of the night. And even after, not sharing the bedroom with Sherlock.

He was a mess. This was a mess. And he had caused it and he didn't know how to fix it.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock had no idea how long he walked. He walked until the sun went down, and then walked some more. By the time he got back, its was late. He could hear the bed creaking upstairs as John tossed and turned in the upstairs bedroom.

Okay, it was going to be like that then.

He ran a hand over his face and retreated to their...er.. his bedroom. He read for a while and messed around on his laptop. The sun was almost starting to peak over the London horizon by the time he finally fell asleep from exhaustion, the still open laptop tipped over beside him.

[ihadabadday]

John had barely spoken to Sherlock in a week and a half. He was currently reading up on ways that he could return to the military. He was healthy once more... But he was too old.

He banged around the kitchen after finishing his reading and tucking it away.

[seaweed_writes]

The last 9 days had been a disaster. He wasn't even sure what the hell they were fighting about, but apparently it was something. And now, John had been reading up about re-enlisting? why the hell would he want to do that, Sherlock wondered.

John had been sleeping upstairs, and Sherlock had.. mostly not been sleeping at all. He was a haggardly mess. And Lestrade was noticing as well. he was even snappier than usual at crime scenes, and that was saying something.

Sherlock felt like he was walking on eggshells, like the tiniest little thing would set John off again, so he mostly said nothing, took cases- 4s and 5s even that he would never take before just to get out of the house, and tried to make as many excuses to stay in Molly's pathology lab at Bart's as he possibly could.

[ihadabadday]

And then one day John was gone. His things were packed and there was a note on Sherlock's bed.

'Sherlock,

I love you. I will always love you. But I don't know what changed, or how things deteriorated between us. I hate it, I hate myself for letting it happen. Maybe by not being here... It will change things. You will forget me and return to your life.

I've returned to Afghanistan. It's a bit complicated how it's happening. But it's happening. I won't often be on the front lines. I will mostly be in bases, working as a doctor. Helping people.

If I can't help our relationship, I want to help others. Fix them.

I'm sorry and I know you may never forgive me.

John'

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock wasn't sure how many times he read and re-read that letter, picked it apart, tried to decipher every word of it, pick it apart syllable by syllable.

What had he done to make John run away? He still had no idea what had happened. If John loved him, like he claimed he did, then why had he run away to Afghanistan? He had a feeling that Mycroft had had a hand in helping him. The bastard had never really warmed up to John, and vice versa. Maybe his brother, who had previously warned John about breaking Sherlock's heart, had decided that it was actually for the best.

Sherlock pinned the note on his refrigerator, so he would never forget what he had had and lost, and then made a phone call to Billy. There was one thing he could do to take away the pain. He had been doing so well, not falling back on old habits, but it was one very hard habit to break.

One quick call to Billy, a time a place to meet, and a short time later, dressed in a hoodie, sweat pants and trainers, he was on his way to oblivion, where the hole in his heart wouldn't hurt so much.

[ihadabadday]

Months went by and there was no news from John.

But one day, there was a knock at the door of 221B. It was a firm knock, sounding much like John's had.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock's fall into drugs didn't last long. Mycroft interceded pretty quickly, and he made a deal with his little brother. Sherlock wouldn't have to go to rehab, but he would get regular drug testing to make sure he was clean, if he wasn't then he would be shipped off to rehab.

Somehow, Sherlock actually kept the promise. The detox was awful, as it always was, but afterwards, he stayed off the drugs. He mostly kept to himself, only take the minimum amount of work that would let him pay his bills. Mostly he shut himself in his flat and most of the time didn't bother to get dressed.

Sherlock was unshaven, in nothing but a bedsheet, doing experiments in the kitchen when he heard the knock.

Oh God, it sounded like John. Could he be back? But why would he just knock, wouldn't he come in?

Well, if they were estranged, maybe not, he figured.

He sighed, trying to make himself look a bit presentable by running his fingers through his messy curls.

He opened the door, his heart in his chest. "Joh-" He stopped mid sentence.

[ihadabadday]

There were two soldiers standing on the other side of the door.

"Sherlock Holmes? John Watson has listed you as next of kin." One said flatly. They had probably delivered news like this so many times before.

"It is our regret to inform you that Captain John Watson has been reported missing in action, presumed dead." the other said.

[seaweed_writes]

The second he saw the two solider, his heart sunk. He knew, before they said a word what had happened.
Time seem to go syrupy slow. He heard their voices, but words didn't seem to really stick in his brain.

He nodded, his voice was gone, he couldn't speak, though he had a million questions- where had he been, what had happened...

And why had John left him and gotten himself killed?

Sherlock could feel his knees giving out under him, he had a death grip on the door to try to keep upright.


After what seemed like a lifetime, he was able to stutter out.. "H-h-how...."