John’s eyes widened in shock as he felt Sherlock caress his cheek, the warmth seemingly spreading from the consulting detective’s fingertips and making its way to John’s heart. His heart beat faster with each passing moment. The younger man’s gaze held him in a hypnotic state. John’s own brown eyes locked into place with Sherlock’s blue eyes. He saw that the other’s eyes held more than it’s usual mystery. Now it held depths of pain and suffering that John himself often saw when he looked at his own reflection.
The consulting detective, John noticed, didn’t all that good. Compared to a month ago, his appearance seemed to be worse. His long dark curls remained unkempt and reached his shoulders. His eyes had dark bags underneath them, signifying that Sherlock didn’t sleep all that much. His check bones were more prominent than ever, showing just how much weight the younger man had lost. The doctor in John Watson also noted traces of Cocaine abuse, with the consulting detective’s bloodshot eyes and somewhat runny nose. John was conflicted. He tried to quell his first instinct which was to nurse Sherlock and force him to eat something just like old times. He reminded himself that things weren’t the same anymore and that they can’t simply jump back into the routine they once had.
Nineteen months really wasn’t a long time if you looked at it from the perspective that, unless something tragic happens (like falling from a building), you lead a much longer life. However, for Sherlock Holmes, when you have counted every week, day, hour, and minute in between in regards to those nineteen months, they become something more. Sherlock had already lived beyond his life expectancy (mostly due to drugs, but considering the fact he ran from one chaotic scene to the next, that didn’t help either) so anything extra in his mind, wasn’t really icing on the cake as it is said, but rather, just more time for him to spend on Earth solving mysteries and unfolding science. Of course, that all changed to an extent when John stumbled into his life. John was unexpected yet wanted, from the exact moment he walked into Bart’s. And that was still the case now.
And so, those nineteen months aside, Sherlock still wanted John. He wanted John for those nineteen months and now, somehow, bitter sweetness put aside, he felt as if he was owed those nineteen months back. Perhaps John was owed more than him - then again, Sherlock was the selfish one. He was not selfish in this moment - watching as John compassionately spilled his feelings and thoughts and emotions and things that Sherlock would never toy with if he had a choice. Though, he had a choice tonight. He had a choice to continue to ask to see John. He had a choice in how his own feelings were handled. He had a choice for putting himself in this place - standing (less than a meter apart) from John Watson.
And had a choice when he decided to take everything into his own hands.