I Don't Have Friends

One

   "Sherlock, I would like to tell you something," John spoke as he traced closer to me. My best friend. My only friend.

   "Go on, Watson," I croaked as I swung a small cigarette in between my index and middle finger.

   "Don't get..." he took a deep breath. I looked up at him hoping for his eyes to travel and transfix with mine but only being out of hope. He was looking at the ground, he does that when he get's nervous, I noticed. "Don't get mad, Sherly."

Sherly? What and odd, peculiar name. I thought with many others hovering above.

   "Oh don't be so being so dramatic and tell me, John!" I spat, literally. "Tell me, I'll decide if I'm mad afterwards, won't I?"

With sorrow, I let another swig at my cigarette. Inhaling and exhaling the smoke being the only thing to trick my troubled mind. Simply, It soothed me. Much like John, oh yes. John. He's here too.

My trail of thought led back to John's words just catching the end and then wanting to go back to my mind palace again and forget the horrible nightmare of words.

   "... For the third time, if you'd listen, I have decided to move and live with Mary," John sighed.

   "Well, I suppose I don't have much input," With a fake smile, I tapped the end of my cigarette letting small particles of smoke and nicotine fall to the floor before squashing it into the ashtray beside me. "One friend. One miracle, Watson."

I knew I left John confused with this as he had that cute look on his face of such an average human being. Normal people are just so cute, aren't they?

   "Excuse me? What was that Sherlock?"

Sturdily and slowly, I stood to my feet and planted my hands behind my back and just stared straight into John's eyes hoping he'll understand the sorrow and pain I was feeling right then, right now. Wanting him to help me, stay with me, hold me... But knowing that one wish will never, ever, become true.

   "One thing, John. One thing," the slower I spoke, the slower he understood with such a simple brain being held by that pretty head of his.

   "Quit being so dramatic!" snapped John with force.

Veins popped, spit flew. John was angry. Not the angry he used to get when I just deducted a corpse in -quote by quote- Such a cocky way but then got him over it with a simple laugh whether it was fake or not.

   "Dramatic? I'm just letting words flow, I suppose," Pacing, I started to feel the pain kick harder in my lower stomach. "Am I too tedious? Cocky? Maybe I can change?" I shrugged.

   "What on earth are you blabbering about, Sherlock."

   "Maybe, behind  the intellectual mind and the stunning looks, you might see the sadness falling, fast."

   "Sadness? Sherlock Holmes has humanoid emotions?" he laughed. He laughed the laugh he laughs when he doesn't believe the words exiting my mouth. "That's the last thing you'll ever feel! You're basically a stone cold rock!"

Turning around, I spun. I was no longer facing him. I wanted to cry but maybe I'll enjoy the tears later for in bed when no one is lurking by.

   "I'm not stone cold... I have feelings just like you would, Watson," Slowly, I responded hoping for him to take in every word that I'd never said, even to myself, before. But all it did was leave him speechless.

   "What has Mary done that I couldn't?" I slowed my breaths and closed my eyes. "When has she saved you when I wasn't there, John, when?"

   "Well, that's one question I can't reply to right this second. Maybe I'll get back to you... Maybe when I'm with just Mary and not you," he responded with a cold desired look settled on his face.

Those words burned my throat the second I swallowed. I opened my eyes and the discussion was not a dream like I hoped for it to be.

I turned around to face him once again. His face sent pain through my body. Was he trying to torture me? He had a small smirk on his face because he thought he had won but what exactly had he won?

   "Maybe I'm selfish for wanting you to stay? Maybe I should let you live with your damsel in distress?" my voice was shaky followed by my whole body. For once, I was scared. Scared to death. "But not once will I try to explain how much pain I am actually in."

I struggle to share my feelings especially with John Watson but maybe it's just the nicotine talking when I say, I don't want him to leave me.

   "Look, Sherlock, I'll never forget you, never."
   "How can one keep such promises?"
   "Maybe it's not a promise?"
   "What? Then what might you be trying to say?"

   "Sherlock, I'm not trying to say anything. I'm moving in with Mary and that's it. So, enough of that ridiculous nonsense," I heard John sigh at this point. I felt it. "I will try to visit regularly. Obviously, not as much as I do now which should make sense to a genius like you."

Not really listening but processing the words, I stood there. I wasn't looking at John, I don't think I could've.

   "Sherlock,"
   "What?"
   "Listen to me... Please, just listen!"

Then, right then, I looked at John as he was already staring at me. This made blood vessels boil inside me.

   "I'm listening! That's all I'll ever do with you is, listen and talk!... Aren't you sick of me?" The realisation then hit me like a rock. "What am I saying?" I laughed.

   "Of course you're sick of me! That's why you're leaving! And THAT is why you're... Never... Ever... Coming back..."

At this point, I wasn't thinking. All I could do was feel pain slice at my skin preventing me from thinking and only talking.

   "Have you gone utterly nuts?!" he sounded shocked so I glanced away from his glare. "I'm coming back. I'll always come back, Sherlock."

   "Not this time,"
   "What makes you say that?"
   "You're in love,"

He knew I was right so he didn't respond. He just stared at the floorboards much like I was. I slowly lifted my head.

   "John..." I began to speak, words going over in my head before saying them all, every one panning out to end in a horrible situation.

He was going to leave me. No matter what, I couldn't stop him. Without many realisations, he mirrored my actions. Cute.

   "Sherlock,"

Tears threatened to fall. To prevent that, I forced my eyelids shut. I don't share my emotions. I refuse. Not... Not in front of him.

   "Promise..." I choked. I was getting emotional. Emotional. Emotions. What? "Promise me that you'll visit sometimes, John. It doesn't have to be all the time, just..."

I couldn't hold the tears back. They flowed down my face faster than any waterfall in all of the United Kingdom. Quickly, I flushed them away with my hand like car window wipers.

He looked slightly confused and it took him a while to respond. John then looked away from me, I knew he could feel the guilt but then again I may be wrong. When, ever, have I been wrong, though?

   "'Course I will, Sherlock. 'Course I will... You know I will,"

Those words gave me hope. I wrote them down quickly. Not with pen and paper, no. I wrote them in my mind palace, as stupid as it sounds, but I did it anyway.

Before John went out the door to leave me, forever... No, he promised, I smiled to give him reassure that I was certainly, completely, okay. But, that just wasn't the truth.

   "Goodbye, John,"
   "Goodbye, Sherlock,"

-

Soothed yet troubled, I sat in my chair looking over at the one John used to lay in.

I was crying.

He broke his promise.