Chapter Text
John wasn’t sure it was a good idea anymore. He couldn’t even think why he ever thought it might be. They were sitting in their chairs in 221B. Sherlock was nursing his tea, looking at him a bit bashfully. Since that horrible day in the morgue, he never seemed completely comfortable around John. The realization convinced John to speak up.
‘Sherlock, there’s— something— I—’
Sherlock shifted a bit in his chair.
‘In the morgue, when I lost control— I — never— I can’t—’
‘It’s all right, John. I mean it.’
‘But it’s not all right! I know you mean it, but it’s not. I had no right to hit you. No one has the right to hit anyone. Ever. I was heartbroken and frustrated. It doesn’t excuse my behaviour and I want to tell you how sorry I am—’
‘John, I—’
‘Please let me finish. That’s not all of it. First, I need you to accept my apology.’
‘I accept it. Wholeheartedly. I understand, and you had every right to be angry at me.’
Sherlock looked despondent and tired.
‘Thank you.’ John paused. The next part was going to be more difficult. ‘The reason I feel so bad about— it is that a part of me felt good doing it.’ Hearing himself say it led John to realize two things at the same time: one, he knew it was true, and two, at some point, he'd lost track of who he was. Both thoughts were equally scary,
‘Correct me if I’m wrong, Sherlock, but your insistence that it’s all right— I don’t know— Was it somehow cathartic for you too?’
Sherlock frowned. The conversation was taking a turn he clearly hadn’t expected.
‘I suppose it was,’ he answered, carefully. ‘What are you suggesting?’
‘Mary’s death was avoidable. It was unnecessary and we both blame you for it. I think it’s pretty clear we’re wrong. But I'm angry at you all the time and—and—you hardly look at me anymore. So—I've been thinking about a way to deal with it for now. It’s probably a bad idea, though.’
‘What is it?’ Sherlock asked.
‘Controlled violence.’
‘You want to beat me again?’ Sherlock asked easily. Now he got it. Maybe it wouldn't be that difficult.
‘Yes. But only if it can help you—deal with—everything.’
Sherlock opened his mouth as if to speak but didn’t say anything. He sat up and put down his tea on the table next to his chair.
‘I agree.’
‘You agree?’
‘Yes.’
‘Don’t you want to discuss specifics?’
‘I do, but it won’t change my answer.’
In a way, John wasn’t surprised. Since the day he had come back from the dead, Sherlock had always taken what John dished out. It needed to be addressed, but for now, it could actually help them heal. Or so John thought.
‘The operative word is ‘controlled’ violence. I would never start hitting you in public or out of the blue. I wouldn’t leave scars or use anything dangerous on you.’
‘All right.’
‘I want you to choose a safeword, and I want you to swear to me you would use it if you felt the need.’
‘All right.’
‘I’m serious, Sherlock. Please don’t just agree, I need to be sure you’re in on whatever this is.’
‘I’m in. It might help. My safeword is ‘stop’.’
John felt some of his stress leave his body. Sherlock's choice showed that he didn't see this as some elaborate mind game. He took it quite literally.
‘Do you have conditions, Sherlock?’
‘When would we do this?’
‘I was thinking maybe we can both ask for it whenever we feel the need, and if the other one is amenable, we can just go for it.’
‘What if the other wasn’t amenable?’
‘Then it wouldn’t happen, obviously.’
Sherlock looked at John even more intently.
‘You surprise me, John. I didn’t think you would be one for this kind of redemption.’
John shrugged.
‘Not redemption, no. I just want to feel a bit less shitty until I’m ready to work on why I feel shitty. It’s a temporary arrangement until we see things more clearly. That’s how I think of it.’
For a second, Sherlock’s eyes seemed to fill with a longing that made John’s heart hurt.
‘I have one more condition.’
‘What it is?’
‘I want to start now.’