If you're gonna hit me, hit me harder
Cause you better knock me out the first time
And if you're do this with the plaster
If you're gonna hit me, hit me harder than this
Sherlock raised his eyes to the wall, looking at the multiple bullet holes that were decorating the wallpaper. That was what he used to do when bored; shooting walls randomly just to put all the stress of having nothing to do out.
But this time, those bullet holes were representing his anger.
John left again to have a dinner with his beloved wife, leaving Sherlock alone again. And that wasn't the first time, and the detective knew it wasn't going to be the last.
He was so full of rage that he would even dare say that he was also filled with jealousy. Why the hell that woman had to be on his way, always?
Sherlock sighed, knowing clearly that shooting at the wall wouldn't help him. His fingers crossed underneath his chin, supporting it while his elbows landed above his knees. He was so sick of that. Sick of listening to John and Mary's joy and gladness, and how much they were expecting that child.
He was sick of it all.
He could hear the door opening and the heavy steps of boots going upstairs. Few seconds later a tired John Watson showed up, walking straight to his chair and letting his body fall into it.
"Please, don't ask. I don't want to talk about it."
"I don't care." Sherlock murmured, raising his blue eyes to his partner "I'm done caring about you, John. I'm done watching while you destroy yourself with this liar. I'm just done."
John looked at the man with a confused and scared face.
"Sherlock, I..."
"John, I am done with you. If you're gonna hit me again with your 'relationship' with this woman, please, hit me harder than this and knock me out for good. Because I can't take it anymore."
Holmes left the room, locking himself on his own and leaving a destroyed John behind.
He has lost his best friend. And it was his fault.
