Im feeling very depressed. Time to inflict it on Sherlock. (I dunno, trigger warning i guess).

Sherlock rolled to the side of his bed, and he wrapped his arms around himself, curling into a fetal position.

He was aching.

Everything was aching.

But he couldnt cry.

No tears would escape, and so all that bubbled up from his tight throat was a dry croak of pain.

Of pure heart ache.

His chest just hurt.

He felt like he couldnt breath.

He swallowed a gulp of air, and took a shaky breath, before rolling to the side, only to slightly rock a bit, letting out animalistic sobs, his eyes crunched tightly closed, as he moved side to side, feet hitting the bed on each side, hands moving about from rubbing his face, to holding his body, to gripping his throat, and pulling his hair and clawing at his chest and kicking the bed and

Hurting.

And then the tears came.

Oh the tears came.

And the rolled down the mountains of skin on his cheek and he sobbed and screamed into his pillow and he was hurting so damn

MUCH.

And oh god, Sherlock was so broken inside, he felt his soul tearing and riping into pieces and he had

Nothing.

He wanted to scream. To shout for help. For anyone.

For John.

Sherlock let out another strained sob at the thought of John, and punched his pillow, screaming, and as if on cue, it began to rain loudly outside.

After minutes of flailing of pure anger and depression and brokenness, Sherlock suddenly stopped, inhaling quickly.

There was silence, other than the light patter of rain on his window.

He sat up, and sniffed, wiping his eyes frustratingly, and slowly reached for his phone.

I Need You - SH

Sherlock? Its 2 am, whats wrong? - JW

Come. Come home. - SH

? Sherlock, what do you mean? - JW

As Sherlock stared at the screen, until it changed.

JOHN calling.

Sherlock swallowed, and shakingly pressed the green button.

"Sherlock?" John breathed heavily through the phone.

But he didnt sound like he had been asleep.

"...Sherlock?" He said again, and suddenly, as Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, and stuttered sob slipped out of his mouth, and he quickly covered his mouth.

"Sherlock?! What was that-a-are you okay?" John asked, hearing Sherlock groan through the phone.

"J-john. I... i... come to Baker Street. P-Please," He stuttered, wiping his eyes.

"I miss you. I need you. I want you-just please-" "Okay, okay... now?" "Yes-now!" John swallowed, and sighed.

"I'll be right over," "Okay," And John hung up.

As Sherlock got up, he began to pace back and forth in his room, biting his nails nervously, breath quickening, hands shaking. He felt like he was going to have a panic attack.

Suddenly, he heard the door to the living room open.

How did i not hear him come upstairs?

"Sherlock?" John called, and Sherlock ran to his door and opened it only to freeze to See John quickly turn to him, across from the kitchen on the other side, standing in the middle of the living room.

Johns mouth opened lightly.

Sherlock hadnt eaten in days, and he was disheveled, hair mused, pjs wrinkled, and Johns heart sunk.

"Oh... oh god Sherlock," And Sherlock felt himself shrink, and he put his face in his jands, and sunk to the floor, and John ran over to him quickly.

"Oh- Sherlock- hey hey," Suddenly, Sherlock felt strong arms wrap around him and pulling him forward, and Sherlock cried harder, digging his face in Johns chest, as John began to run fingers through his hair.

"Sherlock. Breath," John whispered, and Sherlocks body racked with each shaking breath he took, each exhale rattling his body.

"J-john," He sobbes out, and John pulled him even closer.

After minutes of holding, Sherlock had stop crying, but John kept holding him, and Sherlock kept his face in Johns chest.

"John," He mumbled, and John slowly pulled away to look into Sherlocks red rimmed eyes.

"Yes?" He asked, moving a curl from Sherlocks forehead, and Sherlocks chest ached in another deeper pain.

"I.. i cant do this anymore," He whispered, and John looked at him confused.

"Cant do what Sherlock?"

"Be away from you!" He yelled, and Johns eyebrows shot up above his hairline, and Sherlock covered his face, and John swallowed.

"I cant.. i cant stop thinking about you-missing you. God i miss you so much John," He whispered in pain, and Johns heart began to ache as well.

The state Sherlock was in... was Johns fault.

"Sher-" "No. Shut up!" He looked up from his hands, and grabbed Johns shoulders, and shook him, another pool of tears falling from his eyes.

"You're killing me! Cant you see you're killing me!" Sherlock screamed through wet tears.

"Everything! Everything i did-do- is because of you- FOR you, John! I do everything for you. Hell, i died and killed for you, and its still. Not. Enough," His voice died a bit at the last part, and Johns heart stopped.

"Cant you see i cant live! Im not living! This isnt living!" He yelled. "I shouldve stayed dead," he mumbled, and then looked back at John.

"I was so tired of being lonely and being alone, and then you bloody waltz in with fucking Mike 6 years ago and here i am screaming at you on the kitchen floor and crying because John I-" He choked on his breath, and John still stared at him with suprise.

"I love you," He whispered.

There was a long silence, before Sherlock met Johns eyes.

"John-" "No. NO. SHUT THE HELL UP SHERLOCK!" Suddenly, John sat up, jerking Sherlock up with him and shoving him against the fridge.

"You think you're the only one who matters here?! That you havent done everything you can for me? That I havent done everything i can for YOU!?"

"You think you were fucking lonely, Sherlock?! You think you were the only one crying before they fell asleep and also being the first activity in the moring?! You know how many people i have loved have died! My friends in Afghanistan, My Mum and Dad, You!" He yelled, pressing into Sherlocks chest harder with his forearm.

"You think i didnt realise it when i first saw you back in that stupid lab?! Of course i fucking knew you fuck! You think i dont miss you or that i dont love you! Sherlock, you bloody jumped off a roof, how lonely did you think i feel?!" He yelled, and there was silence, before speaking softly.

"Did it hurt as much seeing the one you love marry another?" He whispered, and John froze, the pressure of his forearm getting softer.

"Sherlock," John whispered, and another tear fell from his cheek.

"You... you ssid you loved me," Sherlock whispered, and John sighed, his jeart begining to pick up pace.

"So did you," He mumbled, and Sherlock looked away.

"Mary," Sherlock whispered, and John looked up in confusion.

"What about her?" He asked, and Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"She has you're baby," Sherlock spokr, and John blinked, before looking away.

"Of course you forgot," John sighed, and Sherlock began to feel even morr clueless.

"Sherlock, you know Mary and i havent been together for 3 months. Baby wasnt mine. I called you. Remember?"

Sherlocks mouth fell open, and his mind racked for some type of memory that could signify John calling him in the past several months.

"So.. you're not-" "Together anymore, yes," John spoke, and Sherlock stared at him.

"I even told you i wanted to move back in, but you didnt respond, and i didnt want to seem rude so i didnt repeat it," John said, looking rather sheepish.

Sherlock still stared at him with shock.

"So... if i..." Sherlock flushed, and licked his lips, and John looked up.

"If i... if it was okay, that i could..." He fumbled, and John started to catch on.

"Dont ask Sherlock," John sighed, and before Sherlock could do anything, his blogger pressed forward, lips landing softly on Sherlocks, and Sherlock sighed.

They stood there for a long moment, not really moving, but feeling the softness of the others lips, and John pulled away lightly.

"So... will you move back in?" Sherlock peeped, and John chuckled a little.

"Of course, Sherlock. Anything for you," He whispered, and Sherlock flushed a light pink that John absolutely loved, before ducking down and kissing Sherlocks neck, making him gasp in suprise.

"I would have chosen you. I should have," John mumbled, and Sherlock swallowed.

"If.. if you would have shown up a month earlier-after you..." John paused, taking a deep breath, before continueing the light kisses on Sherlocks neck, making him swoon lightly.

Sherlock bit his lip, and his hand flew to Johns, and he held it, as Johns other pinned his hip to the fridge.

"So nice. You smell nice," Sherlock blubbered a bit, and John chuckled against his throat.

"You taste nice," John whispered and Sherlock felt his insides twist.

"Y'know," John spoke, beginning to lightly suck on Sherlocks neck.

"If this-us-between you and me is really happening, pinch me," He spoke, and Sherlock raised an eyebrow, even though John couldnt see it, and then John lifted his head up to look at Sherlock, and getting on his tipy-toes so his lips were almost only inches away.

"Because, if this is a dream, then i dont know what i'll do," He sighed, and Sherlock sensed the pain, and he cupped Johns face.

"Its not," He whispered, before kissing Johns mouth, moving his hands to Johns lower back, and pinching his side lightly, making John gasp.

John pulled away, and then smiled brilliantly, before it suddeny fell.

"Did you really miss me that much? Did you really mean all you said?" He numbled, and Sherlock bit his lip.

"I was-" "Crying," John finished, and Sherlock darted his eyes in embarrassment.

"You were," John spoke, with a croak.

"I dont ever want to see you like that again, okay?" He whispered, and Sherlock smiled lightly, a slight nod of his head.

And they stood there, holding and kissing and whispering against the fridge in the kitchen till early morning, and so John tucked Sherlock in bed, and went back to his rutty apartment again, not to stay, but to grab his things, and leave.

It would be the detective and his blogger again. Sherlock and John.

Once more.