In Which Mrs. Hudson Fixes It All
Title: In Which Mrs. Hudson Fixes It All Fandom: Sherlock Pairing: John/Sherlock Prompt: 129 Mute Word Count: 700 Notes: There, John, now that I've fixed things, can I go back to sleep without you making me feel guilty for piling the angst on you again? Part of the Deck The Skull With Boughs Of Holly set, just getting a different title because Mrs. Hudson deserves awesome points.
Sherlock stared at the door after John had left as his mind raced. John had looked like the offer of going to work was an offer of salvation. Had he ruined everything by kissing John? Would John not want to be his friend now?
He heard the stomp of furious footsteps heading up his way and he prepared himself for the verbal onslaught of Mrs. Hudson in a temper.
Mrs. Hudson's temper was a lot like John's, it took a lot to ignite it but once it was lit, sitting down, shutting up, and listening were your only hopes of surviving it.
“What have you done?” She yelled, “Are you sure you're a genius? Because right now you are being the biggest idiot I've ever seen!”
She took a deep breath and continued, “We're you deliberately setting out to sabotage your own happiness? You kissed him. John kissed back. Then you tell him it means nothing, and completely ignore the devastated look on his face. And you manage to hurt him so badly that his psychosomatic limp is back. Excellent job, I'm sure John still feels like this is the first time that he has a “family” to celebrate Christmas with now... You had better fix this or I'll....”
She stopped there and stormed off, completely missing the confused and hopeful look on Sherlock's face as the mute detective tried to confirm her statement.
His mind replayed the kiss and he came to the conclusion that yes, John had kissed back, and yes, he was an idiot...
What if he'd pushed John away and ruined it all? No John... Sherlock trembled in pain... No more laughter, no more being cared for after an injury, no more curling up on the couch with a cup of tea to make sarcastic comments about the crappy telly programs John was trying to watch, no more blog entries describing their cases, no more knowing that all he had to do was text and John would be there for whatever Sherlock needed.
He didn't know how to fix it. It wasn't like the case that he'd taken where it could be easily brushed aside as Sherlock being Sherlock and not realizing how he was acting.
He'd hurt John. He hadn't done it on purpose. He'd been trying to protect himself and in trying to protect himself he'd managed to hurt his own heart.
He needed an expert. “Mrs. Hudson!” he called as he went downstairs.
She opened her door and glared at him but gave him a chance to speak.
“I didn't... I....” She looked at the confused, hurting detective and her anger faded away.
“Oh Sherlock....” she fussed as she dragged him to the kitchen for a cup of tea. “How do I fix it?” Sherlock asked as he ignored both the tea and the chocolate biscuits that had been provided.
Several hours later, Sherlock had tracked down John who was walking home from work, he must have forgotten his wallet, as it was cold and John wasn't fully dressed for walking home in the wet, damp, cold snow.
He saw John's devastated face from a distance, although the man had yet to see him, as he was too focused on watching a kissing couple.
Sherlock's heart began beating faster even as he made his approach. He grabbed John, who struggled slightly with a faint protest of “let go, Sherlock.”
He kissed the top of John's head, his forehead, each of his eyelids, and his cheeks. “I love you,” he said, “I'm an idiot and I'm sorry.”
John gasped slightly and then he kissed Sherlock, a soft press of lips and a slow and gentle kiss.
“You're my idiot and I love you too,” John said.
Sherlock grinned as the happiness that he was feeling threatened to overload his system. John loved him back... He hadn't lost John.
They walked home together, holding hands, and neither of them noticed the delighted and giddy Mrs. Hudson who had followed Sherlock and witnessed it all.
Her boys were finally together. She rubbed her hands together, gleeful at the sight of a plan coming together.