Mirrors

Chapter 12: Smoke and Mirrors

        “Sit.” Sherlock commanded, motioning with a slight  inclination of his head to the cot. John does so, and had a chance to really look at the state Sherlock was in. Before the Consulting Detective was taken from John, Sherlock had taken the liberty to teach his doctor the basics of deduction.

        John used some of these tips now to watch Sherlock as he moved to get the antiseptic and bandages. The first thing that stood out was the way he moved. Sherlock was moving with careful, deliberate steps of someone in agony. That realization yanked painfully at John’s heartstrings. “Sherlock.” John said softly.

        Sherlock came back over and began to work on John’s wrists. John ignores the sharp sting and watched Sherlock’s face. “Sherlock. How much do you recall?” John asked softly. “Of what?” Came the response. “Everything. Of me. Yourself. What happened?” John ventured.

        Sherlock, shrugged, a distinctly dismissive gesture.”Not much, I confess. At least not while I am awake.” Sherlock responded as he moved onto the other cut. John frowned at the comment but Sherlock refused to go into more detail of what he just said. “So in terms of what I know about you is nonexistent.” Sherlock continued. John sadly looked at the ground, away from Sherlock. The movement caused Sherlock to raise an eyebrow. “Do do I intimidate you? Is that why you refuse to look at me?” He asked. “No,” John sighed, “That not it at all. The fact of the matter is that I feel the remaining part of my heart is breaking. It hurts. It hurts to see someone you love so much to be reduced to a shell of who they once where.” John stated in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

        Looking at Sherlock now just reminded the doctor how much he missed his Sherlock. Sherlock had once made the comment that he was a sociopath, but that wasn’t true, not then at least. Now that Sherlock really was one, a sociopath, John realized the stark difference between the two versions.

        His friend Sherlock might be an idiot sometimes when it came to social cues, but he had a heart of gold. Damn, the man threw someone out the window for scuffing up his landlady. Sherlock was abrasive, sure, but John knew that abrasiveness was held in-part to turn people off to protect himself. The point of the matter was that Sherlock was like a tootsie lollipop: Hard outer shell protecting a soft gooey inside. Sherlock was the bravest, kindest man John had ever met. Sherlock was the most human, human John had ever met. But now that man was gone and John missed him so severely that it caused a dull ache in the deepest parts of him.

        “You know...I am mildly shocked you haven’t tried to kill me. You must have some sort of self preservation left in you. Right? You were a soldier...It would simpler for you, I would think.” Sherlock stated as he finished binding John’s wrists. “I couldn’t.” John retorted. “You were a soldier, you killed people.” Sherlock responded, not understanding.

        John sighed and suddenly looked very old. “Yes...I did. In total eighty people. Eighty people who had families. Mothers, fathers, siblings. Wives and children too, I reckon. The people who I killed had others who loved them. And to kill you would be killing myself.” John responded, eyes locked with Sherlock’s ice ones.

        “Are you saying you love me?” Sherlock  asked. “Yes...I suppose I am.” John whispered. Sherlock, for once, had no snarky response to John’s sentimental testament. Instead, he simply sighed and stepped back. “If you excuse me, I require sleep. One of the guards will take you to your room. And don’t worry, no one will harm you.” Sherlock stated.

        “I figured that, considering I am your pet, as you call it.” John responded. At that Sherlock smiles a toothy grin that's more than a little bit scary. “You could see yourself as fortunate that you are my pet and not Jim’s. Jim is not the most gentle handler to his pets. You would understand that when you attend to Moran as a doctor.” Sherlock purred, leaning in to grasp John chin. Sherlock ran his thumb over John’s chin as he continued to speak. “You would do well to keep that in mind. You should show some respect.” Sherlock smirked slightly as John shivered slightly at his subtle threat and stepped back to give some room. “I look forward to working with you in the future.” Sherlock purred and left the room.