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Sherlock slumped up the stairs. Yes, slumped. That’s really the only term for it. John waited patiently for the door to creak open.
“So…how’s mum and dad?” He said, cheekily.
Sherlock scowled at him. Even though most people assumed his parents were dead, they were both very much alive. Yes, they’d separated for a time when he was a child over some affair of his father’s, but that was long ago. Every once in a while Sherlock was forced to visit them, much to his chagrin.
John prepared himself for some angry, insulting comment; instead, he was treated to some red-rimmed, watery eyes.
“Oh, Sher—“
And suddenly, he was treated with a lap-full of Sherlock.
It took John by surprise, but he quickly got a hold of his wits and wrapped his arms around as much of the consulting detective as he could. John understood how upsetting family members could be, and he also knew what it was like to just need a hug sometimes. Sherlock seemed to be silently sobbing, but John couldn’t see past the mounds of curls that tickled his nose.
“Shh, shh. It’s alright. I know.”
But Sherlock just turned his head further into John’s chest and clutched on to the front of his jumper, as if he wanted to get as close as possible to his friend.
John continued to hold him tightly and lightly kissed the top of his head. They remained in silence for what seemed like hours to John before Sherlock sprang up and went to his bedroom, closing the door on the way in.
John sighed, he could have demanded an explanation, but found that he really didn’t want one. Instead, he went off to bed.
The next morning, John expected some awkwardness, but neither mentioned it, and everything returned to normal. Well, as normal as 221B could be.
It wasn’t until a few months later, after another of Sherlock’s family visits, when “cuddily-Sherlock” reappeared.
The same slumping was heard, followed by the creak of the front door, and the red-eyed genius.
This time, however, John stretched out his arms.
Sherlock’s shoulders visibly lowered, but he still fell into John’s lap.
After a few minutes of silence, John was the first to speak: “Sherlock, I’m always here for you.”
Sherlock leaned his head back and looked into his friend’s eyes.
John prepared himself for something heartfelt, profound, and emotional.
Instead Sherlock replied with a curt, “Do shut up, John.” But he did return his head to John’s chest with a smile.
And that made John smile too.