johnlock oneshots

Birthday party - part 2

So, sorry for the angst in the first one, but this one will be worse so trigger warning again.

Just for everyone to undertand everything : this is Sherlock's memory of the last birthday he celebrated. It happens while he's unconscious on the bathroom floor.

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My birthdays. I hated them. It marked one more year of being alone, despised by everyone, rejected by everyone. Today, no one wished me a happy birthday, not even Molly. Worse, they all seemed to avoid me. I hated I cared about what people have or haven't told to me, but I couldn't help myself. I just wanted someone to acknowledge my existence, someone to care for me. I may be smart, but it doesnt mean I'm a feelingless freak.

I was walking out of school toward the park where I used to spend my afternoons when I couldn't have access to the labs. Usually, I would sit in the grass and read a book in the shade until the night has fallen. But today, I just sat down under my tree, taking a syringe out of my pocket and playing with it.

Another student gave it to me last week. Jim Moriarty. Notorious drug dealer of the Baskerville High School, although too smart to ever being caught with anything on him. He had the best technique to recruit new clients. He spotted influenceable, weak, alone kids and approached them, offering the first dose to the poor teenagers. That's how I got that dose. I knew it was a really bad idea to go down that way, but the desire to escape that world, to flee my problems, was so pressing I already hesitated many times. 

I looked away from the syringe. I wouldn't go down that path or I'd be trapped in Jim's web forever. I looked at the time. 6pm. I sat a bit straighter. Normally Molly should go out of her lessons right now and join me as usual. But minutes passed and she didn't get out.

I began wondering if she forgot me or if she was just too busy revising her anatomy lessons, when she came out of one of the service entrances. I smiled and waved at her. But when she saw me, she looked away and hurried toward the exit, ignoring me.

I felt my heart crack in two. The only person that could have been compared to a friend just went past me, practically running away from me. On my birthday.

I stood up and stuffed the syringe in my pocket, walking fast to reach my house as soon as possible. I just wanted to go to bed and to be over with this day. 

I was walking past a narrow street when a pair of hands grabbed my collar and pulled me roughly in the alley. My head hurt the cold pavement as the ice-like voice of Sebastian Moran, Jim's right arm, echoed through the night: "So, how's the stuff? Satisfied? Want more?" I shook my head and whined when his fist hit my cheekbone.

"Why?" did I manage to stutter before pain bloomed on my jaw. "Because I want to see you suffer. You-" punch "are-" punch "too intelligent-" punch "for-" punch "your own good." I was lying down on the ground, blood everywhere, pain pulsing through all my body.

"You will stay away from my boyfriend, understood, freak?" I nodded tediously and he gave me a last punch in my ribs before turning back and walking out of the alley. I coughed and some blood speckled my hand from my split lip.

The pain was awful. It was everywhere. In my body, because of Moran and in my heart and my head because of Molly. I curled up on the floor, hugging my knees tight against my chest and tears began to run down my cheeks. I just wanted it to stop. I couldn't take it anymore, it was just too hard to fight.

I took the syringe out of my pocket and stripped my sleeve up. I tried to find a vein, but it was dark outside and my vision was blurred because of my tears. I sloppily stuck the needle in my arm and pushed on the plunger.

At first, nothing happened and I just cried harder. I was despaired that my last solution didn't work. I had no hope left, no mean to escape that world, no mean to escape the pain that stuck with me every minute of every day.

But after a few seconds, a wave of relief shook my body. The pain was gone and euphoria filled my mind. I began to laugh heartily. It was a long time I hadn't be so happy.

When the wave began to fade a bit, I stood up and took my way back home. I don't know of what I was so afraid. It wasn't so bad after all. I felt normal now, although a bit light-headed.

A few minutes later, I arrived on the doorstep of my house. After rummaged a bit in my pockets to find my keys and to open the door, I stepped in the hallway. I fought with my coat to take it off and, too tired to hang it on the coat rack, I let it fall on the floor.

I walked in the living room, the pain slowly receding on the background of my conscience. I gave up flicking the light on and just stumbled to the couch where I wallowed in the soft cushions. Cushions that let out a strangled shriek.

I jumped back on my feet, yelling in fear. At this instant, it felt like the world was exploding around me: the light was turned on, flooding the crowded room with too bright light; a huge load of people jumped from everywhere, shouting at me, cheering, clapping and singing; confetti fell from the ceiling.

It was too much; I felt my breath caught itself in my throat. I couldn't breathe. The world started spinning and I stepped back. Raw terror filled my veins and I thought my heart would stop under the shock. My knees were weak and I fell on them to throw up on the floor. I could sense people trying to come closer, but I couldnt let them: it'd kill me.

A wave of fear crossed my heart when someone put his hand on my shoulder. I screamed and jolted back as if it was a white-hot hand. I couldn't take it anymore and I crawled out of the room, shouting at everyone who'd try to approach me.

After this, I just blacked out. I couldn't remember anything else, apart from Mycroft's voice, filled with angst, trying to calm me down in what seemed to be an ambulance. The next thing I know, I woke up in a hospital bed, surrounded by my family.