If You Love Me, Get Clean

Chapter Forty Two

February 2017
London

When it's over, you're the start
You're my head, you're my heart
No light, no light in your bright blue eyes
I never knew daylight could be so violent
A revelation in the light of day
You can't choose what stays and what fades away
And I'd do anything to make you stay
Tell me what you want me to say

It took nearly twenty minutes, but Alice eventually managed to calm herself down. She dried her face, slammed the dishwasher door closed after leaving it hanging open, and paced the length of the living room countless times before finally giving in and collapsing onto the sofa.

She's more drained than she's felt in a long time. Her body aches, her head is pounding, she feels disconnected from herself. She's not sure if she's sad or furious or some kind of toxic blend of the two. But she's also worried. Because whatever that was, whatever he said, it was not true.

He wouldn't swear it.

He said some awful horrible things, called her names, but when asked to do the one thing that would make her believe him, he wouldn't do it.

She feels like such an idiot.

In a heartbeat she jumps back up, stalking back into the kitchen and grabbing her phone that she'd tossed to one side, calling John. It doesn't ring. Goes straight to voicemail.

"What the hell is going on?!" She shouts, then disconnects.

She slumps against the counters edge, shaking her head, redialing. Still voicemail.

"Sorry for shouting," she says. "Call me when you get this. I'm worried."

Next, she pulls up Sherlock's contact, the icon image of him staring back at her. He has his face smooshed between two pints, one belonging to John and the other to Greg, and he looks less than impressed. It was taken by her brother-in-law Jack, from Sherlock's stag party that he was arm twisted into, and it usually never fails to make her laugh. Right at this moment, however...

Sherlock's phone goes straight to voicemail as well. At this point it was to be expected.

"Whatever the fuck that just was, I know you're in trouble. Call me back as soon as you can. Please. We need to talk. I need to know you're alright. I lo..." she cuts herself off, biting her tongue. "Just call me."

Alice resumes her pacing, then makes a decision. She turns and heads for the spare room, the one they've been in the process of slowly turning into a nursery, pulling open the wardrobe doors while trying not to let her heart crumble as she pushes past all the baby clothes and knick-knacks they've collected so far. She pushes on the panel against the wall and it separates with a small click.

–

"This is only for emergencies," he'd said. "Drastic measures. If there ever comes a time we're in danger, you're in danger, you take what's behind this wall and you run. Do you understand?"

At the time, all Alice could do was nod, showing she was listening.

"I'll find you. I'll always find you. But if you have to get away, then go, and go fast."

–

"Sorry, Sherlock," she says, dragging the holdall bag out of the tight space. "I'm coming to find you. If we have to run, we're doing it together."