My Coma Love, Sherlock Holmes.

Where our story begins

"Queers have no place in here, go eat by the rubbish bins where you belong." Those words. Those horrible words spoken to me by the kids in school rang through my thoughts. The stains that had once rested on my cheeks were soon replaced with fresh tears as I paced around the dark room. "Kill yourself, faggot," Another peer would translate, sending a sneer in my direction. Their faces were trapped in my mind as more tears raced down my pale face, causing a new redness in my eyes that hadn't been there in weeks. Those are the words that now dominated my thoughts. I'd find myself glancing over at the window every time the words found their way to the front of my mind. The tears fell faster as I stumbled towards the window, thoughts racing through at the speed of light. 'You should just do it, Sherlock. You're a waste of breath any way.' 'No one will miss you, not even John.'

John. The thought of my boyfriend only caused the tears to fall harder. At that moment, he wasn't my boyfriend. He was the older boy who played rugby and had all the girls falling for him. He was the junior who I had tutored in chemistry a few months prior. He was the boy who still continued to stand by and watch as I was taunted and teased and attacked. Most importantly, he continues to be the boy I am madly in love with, despite the fact that my feelings would never be reciprocated. A sharp pain ran through my stomach as my thoughts wandered to those of John. The scenes from the past months struck harder than any others before them. The memories filled with John's affection and movie marathons at night, but painful avoidance and hurtful laughter with every other possible moment.

The pain in my stomach intensified as my hands shakily reached for the window, quickly opening it. All of this pain was not worth the small possibility of having a future with someone I cared for. Or having a good future at all for that matter. There was a sudden wind that hit my face as I crawled out onto the edge, looking down at the streets below. I was entranced by the joyful citizens below me, the ones that seemed obvlious to my pain. They were simply more people that could hurt me, more people to play with my emotions. Even so, jealousy burned in the pit of my stomach. I longed to be them. I wanted to come home from a normal school day that included a girlfriend, friends and no bullies to deal with. I wanted to come home to a happy family that would pay attention to me. I wanted to be normal.

It set in long ago that my life would never be normal, that I'd always be a freak to everyone else. Except now. Now I could finally let go of my old life. A small smile spread across my lips for the first time in weeks as my grip on the window frame loosened. I finally had a chance to stop all of this pain once and for all. To finally be happy.

1. 2. 3.

I finally let go.

The feeling of actually falling was exhilarating, it sent a rush through my body as I fell from the twenty second floor. It would finally be over. 'Goodbye, John. Goodbye, life,' were the last thoughts to run through my head before I hit pavement, blacking out.

-----

I woke up to a sudden brightness flooding my eyes and sat up, quickly rubbing them awake before crawling out of bed. Much of the previous night was spent planning a birthday date for my boyfriend, so the bare minimum of sleep was received. My thoughts wandered to him as I stumbled into the kitchen. We had been dating for about four months now and I was head over heels for him, he was perfect. A content smile spread across my face as I began preparing some tea. The morning news was being played in the background but it got little attention. 'I wonder what Sherlock is doing right now,' I thought as I walked into the living room, an amused smile on my face as I thought of what he usually did in the morning. 'Some morning tea and the newspaper, looking at the crime section no doubt.'

After placing my tea on the coffee table, I retrieved my phone and turned it on, being rewarded with a text from Sherlock.

'I love you, John. Goodbye. -SH." is all the message said which was odd with him. But goodbye? What could that possibly mean? Where had he gone. All of the worst possible thoughts filled my mind before a familiar name brought my attention back up to the news blaring in front of me. The newscaster was talking about a boy that had attempted suicide last night and is now in critical condition. It took me a minute before finally processing that the boy they were talking about was Sherlock. My Sherlock.

My heart stopped and my face paled as I sat there in shock, the only sound being my frantic breaths. 'Sherlock is in the hospital,' was now the only thought running through my head as I ran to my room in searching for any clothes that would fit. The whole process was a blur as I found myself snatching the keys, climbing into my mum's car and driving off. 'It can't be critical, this can't be happening,' raced through my mind as I sped down the road, swerving on occasion in a mad dash to the hospital. My heart rate increased significantly as my thinking turned to horrible thoughts of lost limbs and the absolute worst possibility. Cars leisurely made their way down the highway and I couldn't help but notice some of them, secretly envying the people in them. The people who didn't wake up to the news of their partner in the hospital creating an empty feeling in the pit of their stomachs. The uncertainty was worse than the actual event itself, which may sound bad but it was true. The fact that he could die was all I could think of as I finally made my way to the hospital parking lot and rushed in.

"John Watson here to see Sherlock Holmes," I explained frantically once the front desk came into view, my eyes locked on the secretary. She was the only thing keeping me from seeing him and she knew it. However, she was painfully good about letting me in to see him as soon as possible which in turn was surprisingly upsetting. In the mean time, the secretary had me sit down while she called the doctor. As I took a seat as close as possible to the front desk, my eyes wandered to the other people in the waiting room. Some were crying silently over their sick loved ones, while others were arguing over the upcoming funeral arrangements. At least they knew what to expect, I was still mostly in the dark about everything and my emotions were jumbled, a mixture of anger, sadness and confusion all fumbling around in the pit of my stomach.

I was eventually taken into my boyfriend's room where the doctor told me about his condition. Coma. That is the only word that stood out to me against all of his terminology and babbling. My boyfriend, Sherlock Holmes, was in a coma. The weight of the news finally hit me like a ton of bricks and I couldn't breathe. Seemingly, the only thoughts in my head where questions with no definite answers. 'When will he wake up?' 'Will he wake up at all?' 'Why did he jump in the first place?' 'Could I have prevented this?' where just a few of those questions that haunted me as I sat at Sherlock's bedside. I gently ran my hand over his pale cheek, admiring his beautiful, multicolored eyes along with everything else. Everything about him was beautiful, I finally broke down completely and started to cry, now one single thought running through my head.

My boyfriend was in a coma. Indefinitely. And it was my fault.