A Game Of Hearts And Minds

CHAPTER XXVII - slipping

Sherlock's POV

Perhaps.

Perhaps some day the sun will shine again,

And I shall see that still skies are blue,

And feel once more I don't live in vain,

Although bereft of you.

Perhaps the golden meadows at my feet,

will make the sunny hours of spring seem gay.

And I shall find the white May-blossoms sweet,

Though you have passed away.

Perhaps the summer woods will shimmer bright,

And crimson roses once again be fair,

And autumn harvest field a right delight,

Although you are not there.

Perhaps some day I shall not shrink in pain,

to see the passing of the dying year.

To listen to Christmas songs again,

Although you can not hear.

The death of Lauraine had absolutely destroyed me from the inside. The gunshot still echoed in my ears, the sound replaying in my mind like a haunting refrain. Moriarty's face, twisted in a maniacal grin, flashed before my eyes. It was a moment that was etched into my memory with indelible ink, a scene that would probably replay in my nightmares for years to come.

As I had looked down at Lauraine, her once vibrant eyes now dulled, the spark of life extinguised by a single, cruel bullet, het blood stained in my hands, was when I first broke. I had faced death many times before, but this had been different. As I had clutched my lifeless form, the weight of the loss bore down on me, and rational mind, normally a fortress of logic, crumbled under the emotional onslaught.

In that moment, the world had seemed to blur, and the lines between reality and my own tortured psyche began to fade. The pain was too much to bear, and the only respite seemed to lie in the familiar embrace of my old demons. I had always danced on the edge of self-destruction, and now, with Lauraine's death, the pull of my vices became irresistible.

I had sat on top of the roof of 221B, the place that had witnessed both my triumphs and my darkest hours. The weight of her death pressed on me like leaded shroud, and I sought refuge in the only solace I knew besides Lauraine - My old friend, the needle.

The familiar chill of glass vail against my skin sent a shiver down my spine. I found a secluded spot, hidden away from prying eyes, and prepared to escape from the pain. The drugs offered a temporary reprieve, a fleeting illusion of control over the chaos that had engulfed my world.

As the drug coursed through my veins, and I felt the sharp edges of reality soften. The pain dulled, replaced by a numbing fog that blurred my memories of Lauraine's final moments. I retreated into the recesses of my mind, seeking refuge from a reality that had become too cruel for me to carry.

In the haze of my drug-induced oblivion, I found a twisted comfort. The chaos in my thoughts was replaced by a semblance of order, a false sense of peace that beckoned me further into the abyss. I lost track of time, lost in the labyrinth of my own fractured min.

Days turned into nights, and I wandered aimlessly through the city, a spectral figure lost in the shadows. My sharp mind, once a beacon of deduction, was now clouded by the nymbing effects of the drugs. I became a ghost in his own life, haunted by the specter of Lauraine's death.

The people around me, the ones that had once relied on my brilliance, now watched in silent concern as I spiraled deeper into my self-destructive tendencies. John, Lestrade, Molly, and even Mycroft, all stood helpless against the tide of grief that threatened to swallow me whole.

Mycroft, in a rare display of vulnerability, had confronted me. "Sherlock, this isn't the way. Drugs won't bring her back. You need to face the pain, not drown it in substances."

But I, lost in the haze of my own suffering could not hear the pleas of those who cared for me. The drugs became my only companion, a false refuge from the harsh realities of the world that had taken Lauraine away from me.

It took an intervention from an unexpected source to break the cycle, partly. Molly, the quiet and steadfast ally who had always seen through my facade, confronted me in my darkest hour. With a mixture of compassion and strength, she reached out to the man she had always believed. "Sherlock, this isn't you. Lauraine wouldn't want to see you like this. You're better than the drugs, better than Moriarty. You need to fight back, for her sake and yours."

So I tried to fight, I really did. But something inside me was broken, and it could never be fixed. Well, maybe it could, but certainly not by the ones that were still here with me, wandering this planet.

I saw her, when I was alone. I saw her amongst the crowds, I saw her wander on the streets below our apartment. Even now, when I had finally pulled myself together just the tiniest bit to attend John and Mary's wedding, I saw her. Outside the window, watching me, her coat wrapped around her waist tightly.