Aftermath

10~Sherlock's POV

This isn't what I expected.

I don't even now if it's what I want.

Why is it so hard being gay?

Am I gay?

Do I really love John?

I told him I do. But do I?

These are the things that buzz around my head as I lay in my bed. I believe I do love John, in one form or another. That seems to be the easiest question to answer. But when I answer that question, another one bubbles up.

How do I love John?

I love him like a brother. I love him like I loved Redbeard. But there's something more than the love I feel towards Mycroft. Yes, I do love Mycroft, but mostly out of obligation. So the question remains.

How do I love John?

I don't know.

As soon as I think the words, I know they are true. I don't like not knowing, so I stand up and look in the mirror, trying to deduce something from my face. 

Nothing but the usual. How do people go through life like this? Not knowing? Of course, they probably wonder how I went so long without really feeling or expressing any emotion. Of course, that change came because of John. John helped me feel. I didn't know what love was. I thought it was a sentiment. I don't think Mycroft understands it, although he probably acts like he does.

I loved the woman. Did I? Or was she just something that happened in my past? Nothing happened between the two of us. But I did love her. I think. I was still unfeeling at that point, so I don't know.

I start with the facts. John is no longer married. John has a daughter. John loves me. John and I are in a relationship. I think. 

I sigh in frustration and lay back down. I soon fall asleep, very angry. At John for making me feel, at Mycroft for being so stupid and at Ms. Hudson for making have a flatmate.

When I wake, I am equally angry as I was last night. I walk into the kitchen, just wanting some tea, when John walks in.

"Good morning handsome," he says with a smile.

"Shut up," I say.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning didn't he?"

"No, I'm angry."

"Why are you angry? I respected your wish last night and didn't push you!"

"YOU MADE ME FEEL!" I roar. I storm down the hall and slam my door. I hear John following me. I lock my door and slump on the floor at the foot of my bed. I think John's saying something. I make an effort to listen.

"-the key is! Open the door!" The key? What does he mean? I remember two seconds too late. I hear the click and John comes storming in. He meant I told him where the key to all the rooms in the flat are. Damn. I'll have to hide it again.

"Sherlock Holmes, you have some explaining to do. What do you mean I made you feel?"

I decide to answer honestly. "I was fine before you, you know? No emotions, no real relationships. I just solved cases and pick-pocketed Lestrade. Thanks to you, I have feelings and relationships, and I think, a boyfriend."

John just stand there. Then he walks out. He just walks out! Now I've done it. Pushed him away when I need him the most. As I sit on my floor, I start to cry. I've never cried before! Why am I crying now? Oh. Right. Emotions. Yay.

I craw to the side of my bed, the side away from the door, and reach in my boxspring to a hole I made the first time Ms. Hudson hide my cigarettes. I pull the metal box out, and open it. I find the syringe, clean and sterile. It makes me think of when John gave it to me.

"Just take it! I don't want you using a dirty needle! I can't seem to stop you from using, so at least use a clean one!"

He'd found me soon after Mary found out she was pregnant. I was in my room, curled up and strung out.

I haven't used since then.

I fill the syringe with more morphine than normal, and shove it into my arm. I feel the drug slip into my system. I sigh with satisfaction. Soon, I won't feel anything.

I hear John's footsteps just as I pass out.