+11: Drive By - Train [REQUEST]

Request from @ConsultingFangirl_

I didn't plan for it to go this way... But it did. Oops.

-

Rain. Always turns up in movies when something over dramatically sad happens. It pours down, usually soaking the person that's feeling depressed. Often, it'll start as a light drizzle and as the background music gets louder and even more down heartening, the rain picks up.

Jim's life is a bit like that right now.

He's soaked to the bone by rain that has gotten worse as his mood has. His white shirt clings to his skin and the rain water drips off his nose as he looks down at the puddle by his feet.

He's on a bench, beside a bus stop. He's not waiting for a bus, though.

He'd come here to see someone off. His best friend, actually. Even though he had convinced both himself and his friend that he was fine, the moment Jim saw that bus disappear into the distance it hit him just now not okay he is.

He didn't want Sherlock to leave. He wanted the boy to stay here, in the town were they'd spent the past five years in school together. But now they're growing up and Sherlock's going off to University in Oxford.

Forcing himself up from the bench, Jim begins the trek home.

He just had to accept it. He may never see Sherlock again.

*

Two weeks pass. The two boys Skype and email each other every day.

Two months pass. Sherlock begins to tell Jim about a boy he met at University. The calls become less frequent...

Two years pass. Jim hasn't heard a word from Sherlock for almost a year. He still thinks about him each day and sends a text now and then despite knowing that Sherlock's changed his number.

*

Now twenty-five years old, Jim's all grown up and is making his way through life. He's still in the same town and he's working for his dad's company. It's boring and he wishes he had something more for himself but he just can't bring himself to leave this town.

Life is more than boring, if he's honest. It's depressing.

He gets up, goes to work, comes home, eats, sleeps, repeats. He can't keep a stable relationship and everyone seems to get sick of him after a while. Even his friends don't like to be with him for extended periods of time.

After Sherlock left and stopped having contact, Jim fell into depression and just never seemed to get himself out. Not that it was all because of Sherlock. Many things got Jim down but that was a large blow, the one to fully knock him into the pit of sorrow and despair.

Sighing, Jim picks up his coat and shrug it on. He tries not to think about Sherlock now.

Grunting at the fact that he doesn't have a hood, Jim pushes the door to the office building open and strolls out into the downpour without much thought or cares. He doesn't care about the fact rain is seeping through his clothes and he even finds a little enjoyment out of the way others make mad dashes for cover like the rain was some kind of poison to them.

He's just turning onto his street when he stops.

There, rushing towards him, is a figure wearing a Belstaf coat that has a very familiar head of curls. Jim shakes his head and tells himself he's seeing thing. He starts walking again. As he grows closer, Jim finds himself stopping again and squinting.

He's very tall...

Could it be him?

Jim swallows thickly, watching at the stranger a far way in front of him turns towards the road, looks either side and then crosses. Jim can't bring himself to move as a car drives past, lighting up the stranger's face and revealing to Jim how he's not really that much of a stranger.

"Sherlock..." Jim gasps, quietly, staring wide eyes.

Sherlock's here?

Still watching, Jim tries to think what he should do. Call out? Rush after him? Stand and stare like an idiot?

Sherlock comes to a stop then, his hand digging into his pocket and he pulls out his phone. A moment later, he lifts his head and looks back in the direction he came from. Is he... looking at the building Jim lives in?

"He's here to see me..." Jim mumbles, a smiling slowly spreading over his lips.

Sherlock turns 180 degrees and starts to walk hastily back the way he came from. Jim's nerves buzz and he gulps before walking briskly again. His eyes stay on Sherlock and he grins when he realises that they're going to get to the door to the building at the same time.

Sherlock.. He's really here...

Jim's legs are burning but he doesn't slow down. Not until he's almost a metre away and Sherlock looks up. Bright blue eyes meet his and they both seem to slow down, staring as they approached the cover and light of the entrance to the flats.

Sherlock's smiling and Jim doesn't even realise that he is too.

They meet in the middle of the canopy that covers the entrance and just continue to stare.

He's here. He's really here.

Jim can't think straight. Sherlock is right here. After eight years. Eight years with no word or even a whisper. And now, he's standing in front of Jim.

He almost pinches himself, to check if this is real.

"Hi" Sherlock mumbles, smiling.

Jim raises an eyebrow. "Hi?" He asks.

Sherlock nods. "Yeah. Hi."

Laughing, Jim leans forward, rocking up on his toes, and wraps an arm around Sherlock's shoulders. His other arm soon does the same and he's hugging Sherlock fiercely. Sherlock's arms are wrapped around his waist and he's holding Jim just as tight.

That right there, the hug, said everything they needed to know.

I'm sorry. I missed you. It's been too long. I never forgot you.

Twenty minutes later, Jim finds himself in his kitchen as he stirs two cups of tea. Sherlock's sitting at the island and looking around the large kitchen. Jim doesn't say a word when he turns, just allows Sherlock to look around as Jim sets their tea on the surface top.

"You've done well for yourself" Sherlock mumbles, sounding.. jealous wasn't the right word. Regretful, perhaps? Regretful that he hadn't been here to celebrate that success and see Jim do so well.

"Yeah" Jim answers, nodding. "I work for dad. Boring as hell"

Sherlock hums, tilts his head to side. Like he was disagreeing. Jim raises an eyebrow but Sherlock shakes his head in that way he does when he knows something and won't tell. Jim narrows his eyes, a small smirk on his lips. Typical Sherlock. He hadn't changed at all.

"What are you up to now a days, then?" Jim asks, deciding that he wasn't up to trying to pry information from Sherlock. May as well go ask a rock to start bleeding.

"I'm a Consultant." Sherlock shrugs. "A Consulting Detective"

"Catchy title" Jim hums, lifting his tea. Sherlock nods in agreement. It's silent for some time before Jin speaks again "So... Are you in town for long?"

Sherlock shakes his head. "A week, at most. Then I'm heading home. I live in the city now, on Baker Street"

Jim nods, not sure if that was an invitation or just Sherlock telling him facts. It wasn't specific but it was close enough that Jim could find him easily, if he wanted to.

"Do you.. have a place to crash?" Jim raises an eyebrow, feeling awkward now.

So much for feeling things hadn't changed. He wanted to skip all this and get down to being best friend's and like brothers once again. He missed having Sherlock close.

"No" Sherlock says, his eyes on the counter top. "I, uh, had planned to stay in a hotel but then.. I bumped into your dad and he told me that you were still living in town and that you'd be happy to take me for a few nights..." Silence hangs over them for a moment. "It's fine. I'll go to the hotel"

Jim shakes his head. "No, no, no. I am happy to have you here. Of course I am! It's just..." Jim waves his hand, trying to find the words.

Sherlock's eyes widen. "Oh. Do you have a.. girlfriend or something?" He asks, looking round for signs that anyone other than Jim lived here.

Jim shakes his head. "Girlfriend? God, no. I-"

"Boyfriend?" Sherlock questions.

Again, Jim shakes his head. "No boyfriend. It's just... there's only one bed and I don't think you want to sleep on that sofa for almost a week"

Sherlock blinks, and Jim can see he's debating someone.

"Can we not share? Like before?" Sherlock asks, sounding confused. It was rather adorable, actually.

Jim breaks out into a grin and nods. "Yeah. I suppose we can"

*

Sherlock had been back for three days now and it was like the last eight years just never happened. Like Sherlock had never left and him and Jim had always been just that: Sherlock and Jim.

He was here to say hello to his parents, Jim discovered, but he didn't want to stay with them seeing as many other family members were staying at the house. It was his mother's sixtieth birthday and the whole family was visiting at some point during the week.

Sherlock took Jim to many of the get-togethers, when he wasn't working anyway.

It was great fun and Jim felt like he was slowly climbing out of that pit he'd fallen into. Sherlock made him better, happier - that was obvious.

It was Sherlock's fourth night here and they'd decided to buy a stupid amount of alcohol... Which, unfortunately for both, brought out Jim's depressed side more than ever.

They were sat on the sofa, Jim leaning against Sherlock and sobbing pathetically.

"I'm a lost cause..." He whimpers.

"No, you're not" Sherlock tries to reassure.

"I'm a mess. My therapist says he can't help me, not before I help myself. But I don't know.. don't know how to do that.. I don't even know why I'm so sad all the time. I... I wish I could be happy" He snuggles against Sherlock. "You make it a bit better" He murmurs before taking a swig from the bottle, tears running down his face as the poison flows down his neck.

"I do?" Sherlock asks. Jim nods.

Then, for a second, there's a pressure on Jim's mouth. He blinks and looks at Sherlock. Did he just.. "Did you kiss me?"

"Yeah.." Sherlock murmurs, leaning close so their noses touch.

Not thinking, Jim launches himself forward to attack Sherlock's mouth.

The rest of the night passes in a blur of clothes flying and the bed creaking. Then they collapse together in the bed, bodies full of alcohol and no where near stable enough to truly realise what they've done.

When Jim wakes up his head is pounded and he's completely bare and alone in the bed. Clicking his neck and groaning, Jim slowly sits up. He frowns and clutches his head before freezing. His eyes widen and he stares at the bedsheets.

"Oh, shit..."

Somehow, from somewhere, he collects the energy to pull himself out of his bed, shower and dress before he walks to work with an uncomfortable pain in his backside. How he gets through the day without breaking down is beyond him. All he could think about was how awkward it was going to be when he went home.

But Sherlock didn't turn up that evening. Or the next. Or the next.

Then, when Jim got the courage to go knock on Sherlock's parents door.. He realised that the week was up and Sherlock was gone. Sherlock's mother told him the same, invited him in for tea and explained how Sherlock got an emergency case and had to rush back to London. Jim nods and sips his tea, not believing for one second that it was a coincidence that Sherlock left the morning after they.. did what they did.

*

Another two years pass. He doesn't hear a word from Sherlock. His dad starts to get on his case about some special branch of the business. His therapist quits. He's alone. And sad. Nothing's changed.

Eventually, after some convincing, Jim allows his dad to show him this special branch and.. God, he falls in love with it. What he loves most about it, though, is that it puts him directly in Sherlock's path.

And he just adored the way Sherlock's face stills and his eyes turn glassy when he walked into that lab on that day. What does he do? He bloody pretends that he doesn't know Jim and that just made Jim angry as hell. All his sadness gets channelled into anger and he was so damn glad that he was going to get to destroy that smug git and all he cares about.

Then, when he stepped out into the pool... Sherlock's reaction. Well, Jim felt more alive than ever. And stupid little John Watson, Sherlock's new best friend. Who Sherlock was so ready to protect. Why did Sherlock stick around for John but not him?

Why did no one ever stick by him?!

If Sherlock couldn't stand to be by his side, then he'd stand opposite him.

But beneath all the anger, Jim was still a sad lonely man that didn't have much in life and was just bored and wants more.

He just didn't know what more was...

*

Jim feels deflated. He'd thought he'd gotten over everything with Sherlock and he was more than ready to move on, go back to his home town and just live out his life. He didn't want to be known at Moriarty anymore.

But he just had to go and save Sherlock... He just had to come back and ensure that Sherlock stayed in England with his dear John and the new one, Mary.

Why couldn't he just let go...? Sherlock had gotten over it easily enough.

Why. Couldn't. He?!

"Life.." Jim huffs, downing his scotch before he curls up on the armchair.