John was observant. He was not like Sherlock, where every detail became apparent at first glance, but he could unravel a person’s story slowly, piece by piece, as if he were taking bits of them every time he looked in their direction.
And John has had forever to watch Sherlock.
—-
I was scared he wanted to say.
I was alone he wanted to cry out.
I wanted to shout as loud as I could to make them understand, but no one was willing to listen. No one was there to listen. No one wanted to know, only to avoid.
But he remained silent. He simply relaxed in to John’s hold, and allowed himself to be consumed.