Numb

Sherlock burst into the doors of New Scotland Yard with John on his heels, breathing heavily, eyes scanning frantically over the room. His eyes landed on Lestrade and he hurried over the man, grabbing him by the forearms and pulling him closely, quietly asking, “Do you have her? Dear God, Lestrade, please tell me you have her.” Lestrade opened his mouth then snapped it shut, looking over Sherlock’s shoulder to where John was, a pained expression on his face. Sherlock shook his head in disbelief, his eyes widening.

That meant… it meant… no…

“Don’t tell me she’s-” Sherlock cut himself off, his mouth unable to form the next word.

“We didn’t find a body,” Lestrade said quietly, “and none of them were in the hotel when we went to check, so there’s a good chance that she’s still alive and they’ve moved her.” Sherlock backed up, still shaking his head back and forth, his head starting to swim.

“I failed her… there’s a little girl out there in danger and I failed her when it mattered most,” Sherlock said, barely ing the tears starting to run down his cheeks in thick drops, or the fact that John was now in front of him, trying to console him and tell him it wasn’t his fault.

“You didn’t fail her, Sherlock,” John said, gripping Sherlock’s forearms much like Sherlock had gripped Greg’s just seconds before. “She’s still out there, she can still be saved, we can do this, we just-”

“It doesn’t matter!” Sherlock shouted, voice cracking, his fingernails digging into his palm hard enough to draw blood. “Of course it matters that she’s still alive, but every time I fail she has to stay with those- those criminals even longer! She’s probably scared for her life, and I can’t seem to do one little thing about it!” Sherlock’s body seemed to immediately drain of energy from his outburst, his face becoming nearly blank, tears still flowing freely. “She needs me, John,” Sherlock said, his knees buckling under him, only prevented from plummeting by John’s hands on his arms. After John lowered him gently to the floor, Sherlock seemed to crumple in on himself, his arms winding around his stomach.

“Yes, she does need you. And you will be there for her,” John said, rubbing his hands over Sherlock’s arms, resisting the urge to scan the room around him. He had seen Anderson and Donovan when he had come in, and he was thankful that they realized this wasn’t an appropriate time to joke around, to insult the detective on the floor in front of him. “I know you better than anyone else, Sherlock, and I know you can solve this case. I know you can, and I know you want to.” Sherlock said nothing, did nothing, just stayed there, curled up, sitting on his knees.

He looked broken. Empty. Numb.

“Sherlock,” John whispered, putting his hand on Sherlock’s face, wiping away the still-flowing tears. “Look at me, will you?”

Nothing.

“Sherlock,” John said a little more firmly, but still quite softly. “Sherlock Holmes, I need you to look at me, okay?” Sherlock raised his head just enough to meet John’s eyes. His eyes were blank, numb, but still filled with indescribable sadness. “Good,” John praised, smiling at Sherlock. “What you’re going to do is give me a hug, the biggest hug you’ve ever given me, and then we’re going to wipe all those pesky tears away, and we’re going to save that little girl. We’re going to do it all, and you know what? That little girl will be so thankful that you saved her, I’ll bet you’ll get a hug from her too.” A little bit of Sherlock seemed to return to his eyes and he smiled wobbly at John before throwing his arms around John’s neck, pulling him in for a tight hug.

John didn’t know how long the hug lasted, but he didn’t really care to find out. Sherlock needed it, so he would give it. When Sherlock pulled away, John wiped the tears off his cheeks, pressing a soft kiss to the bridge of his nose, uncaring about the crowd they had no doubt drawn. It was just him and Sherlock now, against the rest of the world.

“Are you ready ‘Lock?” John asked softly, and when Sherlock took a deep breath and nodded, John smiled and stood up before helping Sherlock off the ground, slipping his fingers around his detective’s.

“Let’s do this.”