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I can't actually wait for this series to start again. Thanks for reading, it makes me happy :) Reviews are cupcakes.

This Changes Everything

I couldn't feel my hands. I have no idea how long I've been walking for but I'd left around 5 that morning and just walked. It was freezing and I hadn't put on warm enough attire, just picked up the clothes off of the floor from last night and had to get out of the flat. I just had to think.

This changed everything.

It had all started the day before with a truly horrid case of Sherlock's which had ended, as per usual with Sherlock chasing the suspect and me chasing Sherlock. It had ended badly and in the Thames, much to my detriment and as a bloodied, soaking, shivering Sherlock handed Lestrade the wretched individual who, in the last week had caused so much pain to one family, we were told that it was too late. The kidnap victim had been found dead at the address Sherlock had handed them an hour before. As if it was possible, the colour drained from his face further and I could only run to catch up as he turned without a word and walked away. At least Lestrade could read him well enough not to call us back for a report.

I had never seen him like this. His soul was darker than usual and it unnerved me greatly. I followed him up into the kitchen and busied myself with the kettle, the only thing I felt his mood would allow. I turned to look at him. He was stood hunched over the table with his back to me, hands flat on the surface and head so very low. I was hesitant in what to do next.

"Sherlock, I think you need to get out of those wet clothes, will you let me have a look at that cut on your head?"

It pained me to see him in such a state and tugged on parts of my heart I hadn't felt for a while, parts I had forgotten existed. No matter how strong this man was, he still needed 'looking after'. God he would berate me for that if I ever said it out loud. However, gone was the cocky, self-assured man that had scolded me for being so effected by others. He really is uncharted territory this man before me.

"Sherlock?"

I was startled back towards the counter behind me as he swiped an angry arm across the table in front of him, sending the glass-wear lab equipment smashing against the wall to the left.

"I don't need anything, Thank you Doctor." He hissed bitterly. "And I don't think it really needs a Medical Degree to tend to a small gash. Do you? Or is that the real reason you haven't re-enlisted Hmm? We both know you're fit for duty Doctor, you 'trailing' behind me this evening is evidence of that. So that leaves us with a confidence issue, am I right?"

There was a horrid silence and it was all becoming so clear to me now. This is the man that people are forced to deal with, this strange seemingly detached, 'sociopathic' child. A scared child at that. It did not deter me and as I walked around the table I picked up a large shard of glass from the floor and placed it on the table. I did this until all that was left were the tiny shards to be dusted up. As I moved slowly and silently, I felt the heat of his gaze upon me and became aware of the change from the steaming anger that belonged to the outside world, to the lost look of a child that was for me alone. When I was done I stood and met those eyes full on. He obviously couldn't understand my reaction, I was supposed to be hurt. I was supposed to walk out of that door and not come back. I was supposed to stop chipping away at the human soul I knew was in there. His eyes were misty and he broke the silence.

"How can you stand it John, to be around such a creature as myself?"

His voice was cracked and full of self-loathing and he didn't know what to do with his hands. So this was the man Mycroft had told me of, the brother that needed watching and the one that had turned to drugs for those lost years. I wondered if I had met him sooner whether he would have still made those choices.

"You should run John, get as far away from me as possible. I'm not safe to be around, you'll only get hurt".

There were tears in his eyes and his fists rose up into those wild curls. He was on the edge of somewhere and I had to go get him back. I moved forward until I was In front of him searching out his eyes, but he wasn't focusing.

"I'm a dangerous person" He whispered.

"No. Don't ever say that do you hear?"

That was it, I couldn't stay back any longer. I closed the gap and tried to bring his hands down from his head. I found that my own hands were gentler than my head was telling them to be. I felt wetness around his wrist; he must have cut himself when he smashed the glass. He tried to avoid my glare, but seemed unwilling to get away. I now had my hands on each side of his head, just like he had done to me that night by the railway track, trying to gain my focus. It felt a different gesture this time.

"Sherlock don't ever think that way."

He squirmed under my touch and I find myself gripping him harder, tears running and smudging the dried blood on his cheek, his eyes searching anywhere to rest but mine. My breath was becoming ragged to match his own, I just needed him to understand. I moved closer.

"Don't you understand how amazing you are?"

I put my forehead to his. He was shaking and was so cold to touch. I moved closer, overwhelmed with the natural need to warm him.

"You think people don't see, but they do. They do."

I feel him relax a little under my grip and suddenly I'm more desperate to make him understand than ever.

"I see."

I'm out of breath now and I realise that his eyes are now on me for the first time since we left the river. I feel his breath upon my cheek and he doesn't seem quite as lost as before.

"I see."

I kiss his forehead and he closes his eyes.

"I can always see."

Now I'm the desperate one. I kiss his cheek. His breath quickens and I feel tears prickle my own eyes. I pause slightly and without thinking kiss his lips. I have surprised myself and pull back slightly. He hasn't flinched and a few seconds of me not breathing pass before he opens his eyes as if he was waiting for more.

I suddenly feel his hands upon my chest and scrunch my shirt. I think about how this would apear to the outside world at this moment and imagine that it looks as though he's threatening me. He breaths into my neck and before I can process the last minute, he takes my face in his hands and returns the kiss forcefully. It is desperate and passionate all at once and I hear him make a noise underneath it. His cheeks are wet and the pace quickens. I kiss him back with all the will I find physically possible. Before I know it I am pushed up against the wall behind me, all than anger and angst that I realise has been building for weeks exploding before my eyes.

He tastes of desperation and tears and the mist grows thicker and thicker. I have never wanted anyone on this level than I do the man entwined with my soul at this very point. I break the kiss to take a gasping breath and it is long enough for him to get my shirt off over my head. He kisses me again, but this time it's more controlled, more of an invitation and he has his hands around my face and in my hair and all I can do now is follow where he is leading me. His hands trail down my shoulders and hold my own hands. His forehead is against mine as he catches his breath and I feel a chill as he pulls his body away from mine. However, his eyes don't leave mine for a second and he pulls me away from the wall, guiding me towards the bedroom.

He whispers in my ear throughout and with clothes abandoned on the floor and hands fisted in sheets, he ceases to be the man from earlier this evening. He cried my name when it mattered and I found myself unable to let him go. Lying there, stroking his hair I realised that I had signed up to this rollercoaster all along. The Sherlock that fell asleep in my arms that night was the one that only I have ever seen, I'm sure of that now.

I flush with the memory and realise It's not as cold as I thought it was. I see that I've reached the river and so I stop. It's hard to believe that there is of course, no evidence of what happened here last night. I've never slept with another man before last night, I'm not gay how can I be? There have been women, lots of woman. I try to imagine Sherlock at this moment. He would have awoken not long after I left as it was amazing he had managed to sleep that long at all. I had a horrible image of the anger from the previous night. What am I thinking? Of course this can only be horrific, we can never return from this. I hang my head and lean on the bars in front of me. As I start thinking about having to move out, the phone in my pocket goes off.